PREVIEW

... adn't moved. Neither had the chairs. The runes etched into the walls still glowed with their muted authority—steady, ceremonial, unimpressed by panic.

But the room's pulse had changed.

Nyx stood at the head of the table. Arms folded. Shoulders squared. Not stiff. Not relaxed.

Poised.

Strategic stillness in human form.

Three generals sat before her.

Thorne—old, brash, his voice too loud for the space even when he wasn't speaking.

Malik—lean, ...

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