When the Council chamber finally emptied, silence rushed in like a tide.
The alarms had faded, the firelight dimmed, but the air still trembled with the residue of power — the kind that left walls humming long after the spells dissolved. Veyra sat alone among the wreckage of the Council’s composure, the pale glow from the breach mirror painting her lined face in flickering shades of ash and bone.
She hadn’t moved since the others had left.
Not when Soreth stormed out, his cloak snapping like a whip. Not when Edran lingered behind, smirking with the arrogance of a vulture fat on ruin. Not even when Aethren’s footsteps faded down the marble hall, his hands shaking as he clutched the last stable readings of Avery Delan’s tether.
No — Veyra waited. Still as stone. Listening.
Only when the
