The Array rises like a continent of glass and light, stars mirrored on its surface.
Nyra goes stiff beside me. Cassian watches her like she’s a puzzle he almost solved. Theron drops a muttered joke; she doesn’t laugh.
Eryndor murmurs, “Breathe.”
She does. Barely.
Security forms up. Command escorts approach.
Director Halix is waiting—thin, white hair, eyes like polished steel.
“Commander Varric,” he says. “Inside. Debrief at once. Warden Aelori separate interview.”
Theron growls. “The hell she is—”
Nyra cuts him off.
“It’s protocol,” she says.
I step between her and Halix as they lead her away.
“Touch her wrong,” I say softly, “and I will rewrite your floorplan.”
Halix doesn’t blink. “If she is what Ren implies, Commander, then your threat is redundant. The girl will rewrite it
