“Thomas Reed? The war god of the the Solaria Republic?”
Ariana Winslow froze as if struck by a sudden current of electricity. The name alone seemed to carry a weight far beyond ordinary comprehension, like something carved into the spine of history itself. Her delicate features, already striking, now held a kind of stunned innocence—eyes wide, lips parted slightly, her entire expression caught somewhere between disbelief and awe.
“Grandpa… are you absolutely sure you didn’t mistake him for someone else?” she asked, her voice soft, almost breathless, as though speaking too loudly might shatter the fragile possibility forming in her mind.
“Impossible.”
The old man’s response came without hesitation—firm, resolute, leaving no room for doubt. His voice, aged yet steady, carried the convict
