The roar has faded, but the echo doesn't leave me. London is
quiet only if you don't look closer, don't feel the pulse running
under the streets, the hum vibrating in glass and concrete. The
city knows what I've done. The first-born doesn't hide, not
anymore. Not now.
I step onto the Millennium Bridge just as the sun drags itself
over the skyline, brushing the Shard with gold. Fog curls like
fingers along the Thames, teasing the city into revealing its
secrets. I've spent months building shields, alliances, and
channels. But tonight... tonight, everything I thought controlled,
curated, or hidden is exposed. The Shadow Court isn't just a
threat. The leaks that started last night-names, locations,
scroll fragments, everything I ever protected-are screaming
across the underground and digital networks.
My heels click against the steel, deliberate, echoing off the river
like a heartbeat. I reach for my phone, anticipating messages
S: They know.
S: Too many eyes. Move.
S: Trust no one.