Cassian
Chaos has patterns.
That’s the first thing most people fail to understand. They think disorder is random. Emotional. Unpredictable. But real chaos always follows pressure points — fear, power, instinct.
And right now, all three are sitting inside one room pretending not to threaten each other.
Kaelith stands near the far wall like violence wrapped in human skin. Lucien watches everyone with the detached precision of someone already calculating future disasters. Eryndor lounges in his chair like this is entertainment instead of a prophecy capable of destabilizing kingdoms.
And Aria—
Aria stands between all of us trying to hold balance together through sheer force of will.
The bond hums steadily beneath my ribs. Alive. Aware. Dangerously responsive. I have never experienced an
