The misinformation plan begins at once.
Morgan reroutes the compromised ward node into a contained sub-grid — an artificial pocket of magical fluctuation. Not dangerous. Not unstable.
Just convincing.
“Feed her gradual degradation markers,” I say. “Nothing dramatic. Something that looks like stress fractures.”
Morgan nods.
She begins typing command strings into the compound lattice system.
Outside the reinforced glass of the war room, the sky is deceptively calm.
Inside the compound, we stage weakness.
Energy readings spike slightly.
Then dip.
Then spike again.
Morgan overlays false pulse irregularities around my divine field signature.
Kade watches it all with visible tension.
“I don’t like this.”
“You don’t have to like it,” I reply. “You just have to let it work.”
The fal
