Elara
The name Vector Holdings hung in the air, a guillotine blade suspended by a single, fraying thread. It was heavy, alien, and utterly devastating.
Rei Darvian, who only a heartbeat ago stood as the undisputed sun of this ballroom, suddenly looked like a man watching his own shadow vanish.
The champagne flute in his hand tilted. A stream of pale gold liquid spilled over the rim, splashing onto the polished stage floor.
Drip. Drip.
"Vector... what?" Rei’s voice was a jagged shard of glass. He tried to force a laugh, but it died in his throat, turning into a pathetic, wet wheeze.
He spun around, eyes darting toward the crowd as if searching for a script that no longer existed.
"Who are these clowns? Security! Get them out of here! Now!"
Silence answered him. A thick, suffocating
