The council chamber’s echoes still clung to them as they entered Asil’s office. The walls here were quieter, layered with the faint hum of conduits that lined the ceiling, the pulse of Myriad running like veins through the stone. The air felt heavier, quieter, as if the city itself was holding its breath.

  Asil closed the door behind them. “Sit,” she said, her voice flat from exhaustion. “We’re not done.”

  Tina dropped her ledgers onto the central table, its light spilling faintly across the metallic surface. Petros leaned against the far wall, arms folded, his expression unreadable. Abby remained standing near the window, watching the soft lights of the city flicker through the mist outside.

  “So,” Petros began, “do we wait for the committee’s blessing to act, or do we keep moving before Freedom’s spies decide for us?”

  Tina exhaled. “Without the Anjelica Committee’s approval, anything we do will be seen as overreach. We’ll be accused of acting outside protocol.”

  “We’re already beyond protocol,” Petros said. “Someone inside this city is feeding information, deleting ledgers, rerouting supplies, seeding distrust. If we wait for official approval, we’ll be handing them more time to bury their tracks.”

  Asil rubbed her temples, silent for a long moment. The soft hum of the conduits filled the pause. “We can’t move openly,” she said finally. “Not after that display in the council chamber. Half of them already think this is a power grab.”

  “Then we make it something they can’t ignore,” Petros said. “A test of loyalty. Nothing binding, nothing written in blood, just a pledge. A statement that anyone who serves under Anjelica fully supports it. Those who hesitate, we’ll know where their loyalties lie.”

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  Abby turned from the window, eyes narrowing. “You want to start a witch hunt.”

  “It’s not a hunt,” Petros countered. “It’s clarity.”

  “It’s suspicion dressed as unity,” Abby shot back. “You start asking people to prove loyalty, you’ve already admitted you don’t trust them. Once that line’s crossed, it doesn’t go back.”

  The silence that followed was taut, like a wire pulled to its limit. Asil stared at the table, tracing the faint reflection of the Myriad glyph in its surface.

  “She’s right,” Asil said quietly. “Trust is already thinning. If we force the issue, we’ll break what’s left.”

  Petros straightened. “And if we do nothing, they’ll break us first.”

  Tina spoke softly, almost to herself. “Then we find another way. If we can’t root out disloyalty directly, we can track the damage it causes, resource reroutes, coded transmissions, and anomalies in the patrol reports. The system we created will tell us who’s tampering, if we listen closely enough.”

  Asil nodded slowly. “Covert investigation, then. Quietly. Keep it within the four of us. Myriad’s access layers will be restricted to tier-three clearance until we know who’s involved.”

  Abby folded her arms. “And what happens when someone notices we’re locking things down? You’ll have more questions than answers.”

  Asil met her gaze. “Then we answer with results.”

  The tension eased slightly, though none of them truly relaxed. Outside the window, the glow of the city shimmered, beautiful and fragile, unaware of the quiet war unraveling within its walls.

  Petros broke the silence one last time. “Then it’s settled. No oaths. No committees. Just us.”

  Asil looked to each of them: Abby’s guarded resolve, Tina’s quiet determination, Petros’ grim certainty.

  “Well, we do have four that I know we can trust. I think we can use them.”