The silence after the Dominion left was different.
Not the tense silence of waiting.
Not the brittle silence before collapse.
It was the silence of observation.
We were no longer being watched to be tested.
We were being watched to be understood.
And that changed the weight of everything.
Three days after the Dominion delegation departed, I received something unexpected.
Not a summons.
Not a warning.
A request.
From Henrik.
Private discussion. No aides. No formalities.
Ezra read the message twice.
“He doesn’t move without reason.”
“I know.”
“Do you want me there?”
“Yes.”
“But I won’t speak unless you ask.”
“That’s fine.”
We met Henrik in the old west courtyard of the Court annex—neutral stone, no banners, no ceremonial armor.
He stood with hands folded behind his back.
