Tarefin’s place sat at the edge of the lower district, stone walls weathered smooth by years of quiet neglect. Navir did not knock.“You usually announce yourself,” Tarefin said without turning, hands steady over a small burner.“I’m done being careful,” Navir said.Tarefin turned toward him then, his moderately long silver-black hair falling neatly as sharp eyes narrowed in appraisal.“That so?”Navir said, impatience sharpening his voice. “Tell me what I need to know.”A pause. Fire crackled.“Depends what you ask,” Tarefin answered.Navir stepped closer. “It was you… right?”“Hmm?” Tarefin voiced as he shifted his head slightly in Navir's direction.“You pulled us out of the wasteland, me and Ardavan,” Navir said, the words sharp now, jaw tightening as he looked at Tarefin like the answer was long overdue.Tarefin exhaled slowly. “You’re ahead of yourself.” “Stop circling.” Navir snapped, his pulse hammering beneath his temples.Tarefin finally faced him. Tall.Controlled.The sc

Tarefin sat near the open window, daylight washing over the silver strands in his dark hair. His eyes stayed on Navir as he spoke, steady and searching.Navir shifted his weight and met Tarefin’s eyes. “Samaveh told me,” he said carefully. “You were a prodigy winning every contest before they began.”A faint breath of a laugh, nostalgia hitting hard. “Every time.”Navir rested his elbow on the table, leaning his head on his hand. “That… doesn’t sound like a problem.”“It wasn’t,” Tarefin replied. “Till admiration turned envy.”Navir tilted his head. “Into what?”“Fear,” Tarefin said. “The moment they realized they couldn’t compete, they stopped cheering.”Silence tightened the room.“They praised me in public,” Tarefin continued. “Privately, they counted my steps.”“How?” Navir’s voice caught slightly, eyes widening, disbelief etched across his face.Tarefin leaned forward, the silver threads in his hair falling across his cheeks and brushing the nape of his neck. His gaze bore into N

The broadcast hummed to life, flooding the sitting room with bright light and brighter smiles. “Smart.” Sorvan murmured. “No one resists what’s dressed as help.” Navir leaned forward, eyes locked on the screen. The Othmir officials stood behind a polished obsidian desk, white-skinned men with neatly combed blond hair, pale lashes framing cold, measuring eyes. Their suits were immaculate, tailored to perfection, smiles practiced to the point of sterility. “A mutual economic partnership,” one of them declared smoothly, fingers steepled. “This is a new era for Argathe.” The feed shifted. An Argathe official appeared beside them, copper-skinned, draped in ceremonial crimson, posture stiff with rehearsed pride. “After careful deliberation,” the man announced, voice ringing with forced confidence, “the council has approved this agreement in the interest of national growth, educational reform, and long-term stability.” Applause erupted in the chamber. Measured. Rehearsed.

The Grand Elders assembled in the chamber, their sun-gold and river-blue robes patterned with spirals embedded in triangles, Neck rings, crescent-horn earrings tipped with red ochre, and fire-glass bracelets signaled their rank, while red eyes and faint ancestral scars traced their lineage. Daylight filtered through high, shuttered windows, casting the room in a muted, shadowed glow. The soft clinking of jewelry and anklets echoed quietly, asserting both authority and the enduring weight of Argathe tradition.“The offer stands,” said Grand Elder Olga, voice raspy and smooth as polished granite. “Cooperate with Othmir, and the government settles our districts first. We can further expand our influence.”“They promise exemptions,” Grand Elder Tuyi added, voice smooth. “Trade corridors. Private enforcement.”Elder Onga leaned forward, voice hushed, drawled bracelets chiming softly. “And silence, for our past decisions.”“What for?” An Elder asked.“Othmir intends to further oil explorati

“They were due three days ago.”The words were spoken quietly, almost apologetically, as if saying them louder might make the lie real.Guyi stood beside the supply sleds, staring into crates that held nothing but damp straw and broken seals. His fingers brushed the stamped markings, capital sigils, transport codes, dates that mocked him.“Nothing?” he asked.An officer shook his head. “None.”“Delayed.”“Medical salts?”The man hesitated. “They never left the depot.”A second officer cut in, frustration breaking through discipline. “We’ve sent runners every morning. They come back with the same answer, approved, pending release.”“Approved?” Guyi smirked.No one answered.Guyi left his tent.His braid snapping behind him as he turned toward the creeks beyond.At a distance, the low mechanical thrum had become constant, no longer distant, no longer cautious. Othmir transport trucks rolled openly along the high ground now, steel frames glinting in daylight. Choppers hovered low, blades