The silence after the storm was worse than the noise.
Aristella had never known how to exist without control, and now it moved like a wounded creature, quiet, sharp, unpredictable. The morning after Mira's broadcast dawned heavy, the air thick with the weight of too many eyes watching from too many places.
Mira stood at her window, watching the academy wake.
She expected fear.
What she felt instead was resolve.
Her phone buzzed again.
She didn't check it.
She already knew what it would say.
Support.
Hate.
Think pieces.
Threats wrapped in politeness.
The world didn't do nuance well.
Behind her, Adrian adjusted his jacket, his movements precise but tense.
"They're regrouping," he said.
Mira nodded. "Of course they are."
"You humiliated them publicly."
She smiled faintly. "They humiliated themselves."
He studied her profile. "You okay?"
She considered lying.
Instead, she said, "I will be."
That was enough.
