Adrian without his power
The countryside welcomed the morning with a kind of serenity that was almost alien to Adrian Cross. Soft light crept over rolling hills, brushing the fields in a tender glow that made the dew-laden grass shimmer like tiny diamonds. The air was crisp, tinged with earth and early blooms, carrying the faint melody of birdsong drifting from the distant treetops. Here, there were no sirens, no urgent phone calls, no whispers of crises that demanded instant intervention. Not a single alarm disturbed the fragile hush of dawn.
Adrian rose before the sun, as he always had, instinctively, but this morning was different. For the first time in decades, he woke to silence. No one waited on him, no messages demanded his immediate judgment, no sprawling empire called for him t
