Truth does not arrive gently.
It arrives finished.
⸻
Jason feels it before it’s spoken.
Not in the lattice.
Not in the land.
In himself.
A pressure behind the eyes. A sudden alignment of fragments that were never meant to resolve at once.
“Oh no,” he breathes.
Zane looks up sharply from where he stands with the heir tucked against his chest, the child awake and watchful, unnaturally still.
“What.”
Jason’s hands hover uselessly over the arrays.
“It’s not a story,” he says, voice hollow. “It’s a disclosure.”
⸻
The world does not pause.
It does not narrow.
It does not whisper.
It announces.
Every projection surface flares at once. Not localized. Not targeted. Everywhere. Across Blood Moon and far beyond it.
The same message.
The same truth.
The same unbearable clarity.
⸻
