The Rift

– Skylar's POV

Christiana was already waiting when I walked into the old Parliament Room—her silhouette framed by the fading Blackwood crest behind her. No guards. No tech interference. Just silence. Heavy, loaded silence.

I shut the door behind me and faced her.

"You're leaking intel," I said flatly. No warm-up, no diplomacy.

She didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Just tilted her head like a curious predator.

"You think I need to spy on your little freedom club?" she asked, voice silk-wrapped steel. "Skylar, please. You're not that important."

I stepped forward, fire in my chest.

"Then explain how Chris always knows. How every move I make is already countered. My safehouse? Compromised. My data team? Gone. One by one, everything I've built is falling apart."

Christiana's eyes flicked toward the ancient portrait of Chris behind me.

"Maybe you've been playing a game you were never meant to win."

I nearly slapped her.

Instead, I stepped closer—so close I could feel her breath. "What's your game, Christiana? You don't follow him. You don't follow me. So who do you serve?"

She smiled.

But this time it was broken. Sad. Haunted.

"I serve the truth."

That froze me.

She turned, walking toward the sealed doors. Then she whispered over her shoulder: "He's not building a kingdom, Skylar. He's choosing survivors. You and I? We're not on the same side. But we're not enemies either."

"Then what are we?" I asked.

"The last two people who might still have a soul in this empire."

She left me standing there.

And for the first time in a long time…

I was scared.

Not of Christiana.

Of what she knew.

End of Scene.