Ethan kicked open the council chamber doors at sunrise.
Scrolls scattered.
Ministers stood in alarm.
Guards reached for weapons—froze when they saw the prince's face.
“I warned you," Ethan said, voice cold as a blade. “You touched what was mine."
Vexan stepped forward. “This is not the time—"
“I decide what time it is."
Ethan slammed a silver scroll tube onto the table.
The lid popped open. Inside forged diagrams, layered atop originals. One bore a signature—not Xiluo's.
Kael paled. “Where did you—"
“I found them in your scribe's desk. The one who mysteriously vanished last week."
Vexan's smile tightened. “This doesn't prove—"
“Don't lie in front of prophecy," Ethan snapped. “You sealed her death based on forged maps and a missing coin."
He stepped forward, eyes burning gold.
