Maerilee
I walk back to the throne room with Brook by my side, his hand warm and steady in mine. The feel of his fingers intertwined with mine brings a strange mix of comfort and tension. Comfort, because despite everything, having him here feels right. But tension too, because I know what’s waiting for us inside that room. More questions, more debates, and undoubtedly, more resistance.
As we approach the doors, I can already hear the raised voices, the overlapping arguments filling the air like a storm about to break. My stomach tightens, but I push it down, reminding myself of what I’ve just discovered. Brook is my Third. It’s impossible, absurd even, but it’s true. I can feel it in every fiber of my being.
I push open the doors, and the noise hits me like a wall. Many of the council
