The late afternoon sky was painted gray when Lyra received an unexpected summons from Devandra. The message was short, cold, and left no room for refusal:

"Meet me in my office. Alone. We need to talk strategy."

Lyra stared at the screen for a long moment before finally exhaling deeply. Her hand trembled slightly. A private call from Devandra was rarely just about business. It usually meant something darker, deeper, and far more dangerous.

The hallway leading to Devandra’s office felt unusually quiet. A few guards who normally stood at their posts glanced her way, then quickly looked elsewhere. Even they seemed to know a storm was brewing behind that...