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    Across the city, in the cold, sterile halls of the Rozzlyn estate, Ivan sat alone in his chambers, his mind racing. The duel with Lorcan had left him physically drained, but it was the emotional toll that weighed heaviest. He stared at his hands, still trembling from the fight, and thought of Fent’s words: “You don’t belong in that room.”


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    The door creaked open, and the figure stepped inside, their hood falling back to reveal a face that sent a ripple of shock through the room. It was Mara, one of Skyla’s most trusted operatives—a woman who had been with the resistance since its earliest days. Her expression was grim, her eyes shadowed with guilt and fear.


    Across the city, Ivan sat alone in his chambers, his mind racing. Fent’s words echoed in his head: “Choose a side, Ivan. Before it’s too late.” He stared at his hands, still trembling from the duel, and thought of Skarlett’s warning: “The world isn’t kind to those who hesitate.”


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    Back in the warehouse, Skyla stood before her inner circle, her expression grim. The mutilated hand and Prin’s warning were still fresh in their minds, but Skyla’s resolve was unshaken.


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