By morning, the Avelar estate was locked down.
The bishop canceled his afternoon meeting with the Crown.
Two advisors missed court entirely.
A whisper about "treasonous routing" had begun to circulate—deliberately vague, dangerously effective.
Serina and I returned to the observatory with the ledger.
We didn't speak until it was on the table.
"What we do next," she said, "won't be quiet."
"Good. They started the fire. We're just fanning the flames."
That night, I copied the first page of the ledger by hand.
Then I burned the rest.
They thought erasing me from the records would protect them.
Let's see how they like it when the records strike back.