The silence that settled in wasn't just a pause—it was a space where decisions began to take shape. Irelia kept her arms crossed, her gaze fixed on an invisible point ahead, as if she were already projecting maps and movements in her own mind. When she spoke, her voice was lower, but full of direction. It was no longer irritation. It was command.
"If they entered stealthily, they didn't come en masse. They came in cells."
Amelia tilted her head slightly, following the reasoning without interrupting. She had seen this before—silent infiltrations, fragmented movements, attacks that started too small to be noticed. Her fingers slid across the table, as if she could feel the routes there.
"And vampires don't survive alone for long in hostile territory," she added calmly. "They need footholds. Shelters. Blood."
Irelia nodded once. That was it. The Empire's mistake would be looking for monsters in the shadows when, in fact, it should be looking for patterns among the living.
