THE BROKEN LEDGERThe flight across the English Channel was a sensory vacuum, a terrifying blur of gray mist, freezing rain, and a silence so profound it felt like a physical weight pressing against my eardrums. My mind, usually a fortress of cold, clinical calculation, had become a fractured mirror, reflecting only the final, haunting image of Damien on that rain-lashed rooftop—a solitary, dark figure standing defiant against the encroaching fire of Victoria's gunships. I stared down at the sovereign deeds clutched in my lap, the edges of the ancient parchment damp from the storm, and realized with a sickening thud of my heart that they were nothing more than a leaden tombstone. They were the keys to a hollow empire, the final proof of a power that had cost us everything, and without him, they were merely dead weight in a world that suddenly felt devoid of color.The helicopter descended onto a remote, private airfield t
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