The council hall smelled of incense and iron.Kael had always hated the place. Every breath inside it carried the weight of politics disguised as order — polished lies traded like currency between men too cowardly to bleed for what they ruled.He stood at the far end of the room now, cloak still damp from rain, the case from the archives clutched in one hand. Around him, guards lined the walls, their faces blank, their armor shining like the truth they pretended to protect.At the center of the chamber sat three figures — the interim council. The Emperor was “indisposed,” or so they said. That alone told Kael how deep the rot went.“Kael Ardent,” one of them said, voice sharp as a drawn blade. “You stand accused of espionage, theft of Imperial property, and the attempted revival of treasonous propaganda. Do you deny these charges?”Kael let the question hang in the air. Then, very calmly, he placed the case on the council table and unlatched it.“I do,” he said. “And I brought your pr

The fire in the small room burned low. Kael sat by it, rubbing his hands together, though he wasn’t cold. He just needed something to do — something that wasn’t thinking.Seris was quiet in the corner. She hadn’t spoken much since they left Mera’s safehouse. Her eyes followed the fire too, but Kael knew her mind wasn’t there.Daren had gone to check the outer walls, leaving them alone. The silence was thick, heavy with all the words they weren’t saying.Finally, Kael broke it.“You’ve been off since last night.”Seris blinked, looked up. “Just tired.”“No,” he said. “You’re hiding something.”She turned away. “You think everyone’s hiding something now.”“I have to,” Kael said. “It’s how we stay alive.”Seris gave a small, bitter laugh. “Maybe that’s why no one trusts you anymore.”The words hit harder than she meant them to. Kael didn’t reply right away. He just watched the fire eat the last of the wood.“What did Mera tell you?” he asked quietly.Seris froze.He caught it — that half

The tunnels under the palace felt alive. Every sound carried too far — a drop of water, a step, a breath. Kael didn’t like it.They’d been down there for hours, following Toren through the maze of stone. The deeper they went, the colder it got. The light from Seris’s lantern trembled in the damp air.Finally, Toren stopped in front of a small iron door marked with three slashes. “This is it,” he said. “Old training room. Used to belong to the Echo Division.”Seris frowned. “Echo what?”Kael’s stomach turned. “They were assassins. The Emperor’s ghosts. Trained to mimic voices, faces, even thoughts. I thought they were all wiped out.”Toren gave him a look. “Guess not.”He pushed the door open. The smell hit first — old dust and something like burnt iron. Inside, the room stretched wide, filled with old weapon racks, cracked mirrors, and circles drawn on the floor.“Echo training,” Kael murmured, stepping inside. “Where they learned to kill and forget.”Seris looked uneasy. “Why would

The palace was never quiet. Even at night, it breathed — guards’ boots, whispers in corridors, the low hum of power hidden behind marble and gold. Kael remembered that sound from his old life — before the exile, before the rebellion. Back when he was just another weapon wearing honor like armor. Now he was a shadow moving through the cracks of that same world. Seris and Toren followed close. The tunnels under the south wing smelled of old incense and rot. The air carried the faint trace of something burned long ago — maybe truth, maybe bodies. Toren ran his hand along the wall. “You sure about this path?” Kael nodded. “The court archives are three levels above us. The Emperor keeps his secrets close — we’re not taking the front door.” Seris gave him a look. “We never do.” They climbed the narrow stairs, careful to stay silent. Faint light filtered through the cracks — enough to see, not enough to feel safe. At the top, they reached an iron gate. Rust had eaten through most of

The feast smelled of wine, honey, and rot.Kael sat at the long table among the Empire’s finest liars. Every laugh felt rehearsed. Every toast carried a secret.The Emperor’s celebration hadn’t ended with the ball — it had only changed masks. Now, the men who owned half the capital were pretending to be friends.Silver plates gleamed. Roasted swan, glazed fruit, endless wine. The food was perfect — like everything else the nobles touched — and just as poisonous.Seris sat beside him, silent but watchful. Across the table, Daren leaned against his chair, trying not to look like a soldier surrounded by snakes.Lord Therin spoke first, his smile sharp. “To the Empire’s peace,” he said, lifting his cup. “May the whispers fade and loyalty shine again.”Kael raised his cup too but didn’t drink. “To peace,” he said flatly. “However long it lasts.”The nobles laughed, though a few looked away.The Emperor hadn’t shown up. That meant this wasn’t about him. This was about the men beneath him —