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Chapter 59: Dead Man’s Writ
The city was quiet in the way that follows violence.
The Dominion bombardments had ceased for the night, their fleets circling like carrion birds waiting for dawn. The streets were coated in ash that shifted beneath Dante’s boots as he walked, crunching like brittle bone.
The council had dispersed hours ago. Some left with clenched fists, some with eyes cold and wary, and others whispering treachery already in the corners of their mouths. But Dante hadn’t stayed to argue. He needed air, and the silence that came with it.
It was in that silence he found the letter.
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The Writ Appears
It was waiting in the ruins of the cathedral hall, tucked beneath the base of a broken altar. At first glance it was only parchment, cracked and faded, bound with a sea
