Cambria froze. Her lungs locked, her mind a riot of alarms and disbelief.
Maddox stood before her, shirt unbuttoned, a single word TRAITOR painted across his chest in thick, black ink. The letters bled into the fabric like a wound.
A scream echoed again.
Elara.
Cambria's paralysis shattered. She shoved past Maddox, barefoot on the cold marble, her robe fluttering behind her like wings of wrath.
"Elara!" she shouted, voice rising above the penthouse's silence.
She followed the sound into the east hallway. Elara's room. The door was ajar, one hinge creaking like a breath caught mid-sob.
Cambria pushed it open.
The room was in ruins.
Pillows torn. Drawers overturned. Books scattered like fallen soldiers. In the center, Elara stood, hands trembling, pointing at the wall.
Cambria followed her gaze.
Words, again.
EVERY EMPIRE FALLS. EVEN YOURS.
Painted in black, bold strokes on Elara's mirror.
