Nyx
“The closer two souls grow, the more the world demands they bleed for it,” Selene warns, and I push the thought to the back of my mind. The Citadel feels smaller every day. Not physically. It’s still the sprawling, silver fortress carved into the mountain’s bones, but the air is tighter.
The walls listen now. Every conversation echoes somewhere it shouldn’t. Every decision feels like walking barefoot through glass. The Council has built a maze of bureaucracy around us, each new form or decree or “advisory meeting” another leash dressed as legislation.
Today’s decree: “Joint Protocol for Dual Alpha Authority Ratification.” Translation: “They still don’t trust us.” Kaelen and I sit side by side at a long table scattered with digital tablets and legal projections, each document stampe
