didn't l

old prayers that hadn't been answered in years. A map was spread across the table before her. Hand-drawn symbols marked out safe zones, enemy paths, traitor hideouts. Most of it was guesswork, stitched together from broken intel and rogue whispers. Still, it was all they had.

word about Marcus. Not one. Lyra stood, her knees stiff but steady, and approached the rogue commander. "You knew about him, didn't you?" she asked. Seraphina didn't look up. "Not en

ng to lose more people," Lyra said softly. "You know that." Seraphina nodded. "Yes. But if you keep fighting like you did today... f

e it to regroup." Lyra studied the location, then looked up at him. "Then we hit it first." Damon raised an eyebrow. "You want to go to him? No," she said. "I

e carried it differently. She had chosen to fight. Not just for survival-but for change. The others began to stir, gathering weapons, whispering orders. The room