CHAPTER XLI
The Council had gone quiet for seven days.
No press statements.No staged interviews.No counter leaks.
That silence should have felt like victory.
Instead, it felt like the breath before a scream.
NUMA's monitors began blinking at two thirteen in the morning.
A government livestream launched across all major channels.
Not through the usual media outlets, but directly through federal bandwidth.Even she had never cracked that before.
Fatima entered the room barefoot, blinking away sleep.Khalid was already at the wall of screens.Elara leaned forward, heart pounding.
A clean black background appeared.
Then a face.
Not her father.
Someone worse.
Chairman Uduak Eyo, the current head of the Silence Council.
He smiled like a pastor on election day.Calm.Polished.Soaked in rehearsed sincerity.
My fellow citizens, it is with great sorrow that I address the rumors spreading across our beloved country.
There are forces, digital and psychological, working to destabilize our unity.
They call themselves survivors.We call them what they are.Seditionists.
NUMA muttered, They are about to flip the script.
The Chairman continued.
We now present evidence that the so called Ashlist is a fabrication.A dangerous fiction spread by rogue tech cells and emotionally disturbed individuals with personal vendettas.
The screen shifted.
A video montage began.
Clipped footage.Manipulated images.
Elara shouting during a protest.Halima mid panic at the clinic.NUMA walking barefoot through a flooded alley.Khalid throwing a punch during their escape.
Then a bold headline.
Psychological Destabilization Unit Formed by Former Council Relatives
Khalid cursed.They are deep faking the entire thing.
NUMA leaned forward.They did not just bury the truth.They rewrote it.
Then came the twist.
The screen flashed red.
A single sentence scrolled slowly across it:
We will offer amnesty to any young woman manipulated into this hysteria if she denounces the movement now
Khalid whispered, They are offering deals.
Fatima's eyes darkened.They are targeting the next generation.The ones still unsure of their voice.
And then the feed glitched.
Just for a moment.
A new face appeared.
A girl.
Aderonke.
Elara's blood turned to ice.
It was a picture of her half sister.Wearing a pressed uniform.A ribbon on her chest.The Council's colors.
Beneath it, the title:
Future Restorer of National GraceAderonke Bello
NUMA took a step back.They are naming her.Publicly.They are branding her peace in response to your chaos.
Khalid's voice was tight.We have to get her out.
Elara said nothing.
She just stared at the screen.
That night, no one slept.
The safehouse buzzed with plans and counter plans.
Leak the Chairman's bribery records.Re-release the Ashlist.Stage another survivor drop.
But Elara stood at the center of the room and said only one thing:
We let them speak.Now we answer.
At dawn, Elara went live again.
No cloak.No distortion.No preamble.
Just her.
And the Daughters of Ash beside her.
One by one, they stepped forward.
A mother who lost two daughters to state custody.A nurse who altered death certificates to keep her job.A teacher who was fired for questioning the Council curriculum.
And then Halima.
Her voice was shaking, but her eyes were clear.
They told me I was unstable.That the bruises were dreams.That Amara was imaginary.
But I am real.And I remember everything.
When Elara stepped forward, she did not shout.
She simply spoke.
I was raised by the man who erased my sister.
I lived in a house where apologies came wrapped in medals.
You do not have to believe me.Just listen.
Because what they fear most is not my story.It is the fact that I am not alone.
The stream went viral within hours.
Students staged sit ins.International media picked it up.Anonymous groups began tagging Council properties with red paint and names from the Ashlist.
But what mattered most?
An encrypted message from Aderonke.
Seven words.
I know who they want me to beI choose something else
The empire had made its final broadcast.
But Elara and the daughters?
They were just getting started.