The vote passed barely. Calla felt it not as relief, but as a hollow settling in her chest—the quiet after something breaks but hasn’t fallen yet. Hands lifted across the terraces. Not all. Not even most. But enough. Enough to shatter the Regent’s certainty. Enough to legitimize the covenant. Enough to make her a target.
The Moonbound Regent stood very still as the final count was spoken. His face showed no rage, no defeat—only calculation sharpening into something colder. “So be it,” he said smoothly. “The Luna Prime remains unbound.” His eyes flicked once—to Adrian. Then back to Calla. “Balance has spoken,” he continued. “May it survive what comes next.” He turned and left the ruins without another word, cloak sweeping stone like a closing door.
The conclave dissolved into controlled c
