Lysander
The Council's arrival shattered our sanctuary like a sledgehammer through stained glass—their intrusive vehicles carving wounds of bureaucratic brutality across our organically evolved haven, their suffocating authority attempting to cage something that could only breathe in beautiful, deadly chaos. I watched from the eastern windows as Councilor Thorne emerged with the military precision of a firing squad, flanked by representatives whose auras reeked of political rot and terror so pure it made the air taste of copper and graves.
But it was the third vehicle that sent golden fire exploding through my veins like liquid rage—two figures whose genetic signature screamed Rachel Santiago's bloodline, their faces bearing the same predatory bone structure but mercifully lacking the vo
