"He’s using our survival to starve the very people he claims to be protecting," Eldric whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and exhaustion. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets, his knuckles white. "Do you see them, Lysandra? Look at the mothers clutching their children. They’re watching that screen, and they’re looking for someone to blame for the lack of bread on their tables. We gave them a villain to hate, and the Archivist just handed them a target."Lysandra pressed her back against the freezing, damp wood of the granary wall. She could hear the murmurs of the crowd nearby—not of support, but of sharpened resentment. A stone clattered against the wall just above her head. "We have to move," she breathed, her eyes darting toward the narrow, winding alleyway that led toward the northern drainage tunnels."Move where?" Eldric stepped in front of her, blocking her path. His eyes were bloodshot, his movements erratic. "We’re running out of road, Lysandra. The Ac

"Don’t you dare, Eldric. If you turn Alarion over to them, you’re not saving these people. You’re handing the Accord the key to the next, larger anchor. You’re trading a day’s worth of bread for a century of soil rot. Is that the math you want to die by?""The people are dying now!" Eldric roared, his voice cracking against the heavy, static-charged air of Oakhaven.A group of farmers nearby flinched, their heads snapping toward the dark, recessed shadow of the granary where Lysandra and the wounded Alarion crouched. Lysandra didn’t wait for the mob to realize who they were. She grabbed the collar of Eldric’s reinforced coat, hauling him deeper into the labyrinthine network of the town’s drainage tunnels, her boots skidding on the slick, algae-covered stone."They’re turning," she whispered, her voice a sharp blade of warning. "Look behind us."Eldric twisted his neck, his face pale beneath the grime. A detachment of the Accord’s private militia had entered the plaza, their polished b