Nyxara Rising
she said, acknowledging the gambit, the risk, the mess of tangled loyalties and half-truths between them.
Her eyes flicked—quick, surgical—to Brielle’s stomach, a gesture so sharp it hurt.
Brielle’s hand flew there, instinctive, protective. “You won’t—”
“I’m not here to touch you,” Nyxara cut in, voice flat, inexorable. “I’m here to erase you.”
With a single gesture, the screens lit up—flickering to life in an explosion of data and doom.