The silence in the Ghost’s hold was different this time. It was not the tense quiet of impending violence, nor the sterile silence of the sovereign’s rule. It was the profound, weary stillness that follows a storm. On the screens, the Sirius Sector was a scattering of lights, each representing a ship that had chosen a different path. Jax Korvus was a ghost, his power vanished not in a blaze of glory, but in a whisper of irrelevance.
Myra watched Roewi. He stood at the viewport, his shoulders slumped with a fatigue that was more spiritual than physical. The surgical precision he had wielded had cost him something. It was one thing to shatter a prison; it was another to carefully dismantle a man’s life’s work, to render him a nullity in front of his followers.
“You did the right thing,” sh
