Carson watched Hera materialize through the Poseidon's viewport, its swirling blue-green atmosphere unlike anything in TITAN educational modules. The planet looked alive somehow—clouds forming distinct spiral patterns that seemed too orderly for natural weather systems. Even from orbit, he could make out vast interconnected structures spanning entire continents, like living veins stretching across the planet's surface.

  The Poseidon adjusted its approach vector without Carson touching the controls. The ship had been doing that more frequently—anticipating his intentions before he voiced them. He wasn't sure if that should worry him.

  "We've been granted landing clearance," Dr. Craft's voice announced from the ship's communication system. "Their transmission patterns are... unusual. Encrypted within biological algorithms rather than standard TITAN protocols."

  Carson nodded, his attention split between the approaching planet and Wind's reflection in the viewport. She stood rigidly behind him, her usual fluid grace replaced by tense, controlled movements. Her eyes never left the planet's surface, but her expression remained carefully neutral.

  "You okay?" he asked quietly.

  Wind's gaze flicked to his reflection. "I'm fine." The clipped response told him everything he needed to know.

  The Poseidon descended through cloud layers that parted around the hull like conscious entities making way. Carson felt the Stone warm slightly against his chest, responding to something in the atmosphere. Not danger—more like recognition.

  "Their landing protocols indicate we should prepare for atmospheric adaptation," Dr. Craft continued. "Hera's oxygen content is approximately 3% higher than station standard. You may experience mild euphoria and heightened sensory perception initially."

  Carson glanced back at the others. Link looked calm as always, though his eyes tracked every movement on the sensors. Mira maintained her composure, but her fingers tapped an anxious rhythm against her thigh. Bowie simply looked fascinated, his collector's eyes already cataloging differences.

  As they broke through the final cloud layer, Carson's breath caught. Below them sprawled what initially appeared to be a vast forest, but as they descended, the "trees" revealed themselves as buildings—massive organic structures that curved and twisted skyward. Unlike the rigid, geometric precision of TITAN architecture, these structures flowed like frozen liquid, their surfaces rippling subtly in the sunlight.

  "That's Gaia's Crown," Wind said quietly, breaking her silence. "The capital."

  The Poseidon slowed its descent, gliding toward a circular opening that dilated wider as they approached—like a pupil adjusting to light. Carson felt a slight shudder as the ship passed through some kind of energy field, then the Stone at his chest pulsed once, strongly, before settling back to its usual warmth.

  They touched down with barely a sensation of landing. The docking area enclosed them completely, the walls consisting of what appeared to be living tissue—translucent in places, opaque in others, with subtle bioluminescent patterns flowing beneath the surface.

  "That's... not construction material," Carson muttered, leaning closer to the viewport. "That's actual organic matter."

  "Living architecture," Wind confirmed, her voice tight. "The buildings grow rather than being built. They're genetically engineered organisms, not structures."

  The Poseidon's systems registered atmospheric compatibility, and Carson felt the subtle pressure change as the ship equalized with external conditions. He stood, surprised by the immediate sensation of lightness—Hera's gravity was perhaps 15% less than he was accustomed to on Celestia Station.

  "Remember," Wind said as they gathered near the exit, "we're guests here. Follow my lead."

  The Poseidon's hull created an opening without any visible mechanism, the material simply parting like living tissue. A rush of air entered—warm, humid, and carrying scents Carson had no reference for. Rich, complex organic compounds that made station air seem sterile by comparison.

  They stepped out onto what appeared to be a floor of polished amber material that yielded slightly beneath their feet, like walking on firm moss. The entire chamber seemed to breathe, subtle expansions and contractions barely perceptible but impossible to ignore once noticed.

  The reception committee waited several meters away—five women arranged in a semicircle, all wearing variations of flowing garments in shades of green and blue. Their postures radiated authority without aggression, a quiet confidence that needed no outward display.

  "Welcome to Hera," the central figure said, her voice carrying perfectly despite the soft acoustics of the chamber. "I am Sentinel Lyra, appointed by Chancellor Eris to receive you." Her eyes scanned each of them briefly before settling on Wind. "The Bridgekeeper returns. Unexpected."

  Wind inclined her head slightly. "My path led elsewhere, Sentinel."

  "So we observed." Lyra's attention shifted to Carson, her gaze dropping momentarily to where the Stone lay beneath his shirt. Though invisible, Carson could have sworn she sensed its presence. "You bring interesting companions."

  Carson felt a subtle change in the air pressure around them, as though the very room was leaning in to examine them more closely. The walls pulsed with slightly brighter bioluminescence, patterns shifting to flow toward their position.

  "The Chancellor extends welcome and sanctuary," Lyra continued, gesturing toward an opening that formed in the wall behind her. "Please follow. Your vessel will be tended."

  As they moved forward, Carson struggled to maintain his focus on the diplomatic exchange. Every surface around them demanded attention—walls that rippled with patterns like neural networks, ceilings that adjusted their transparency to maintain perfect lighting, floors that seemed to analyze their gait and adjust firmness accordingly.

  Through an archway that formed itself as they approached, Carson caught his first true view of Gaia's Crown. A vast central atrium opened before them, stretching hundreds of meters upward and across. Spiraling structures of living matter interconnected at seemingly impossible angles, their surfaces covered with gardens that grew horizontally, vertically, and at every angle between. Waterfalls flowed along organic channels, some defying gravity in ways that hinted at technology far beyond TITAN capability.

  And everywhere, light—filtered through translucent tissues in shades of amber and green, creating an atmosphere that felt simultaneously alien and deeply familiar, as though some part of his DNA remembered this from ancient Earth.

  The Stone warmed against his skin, resonating with something in this place. Not danger, but recognition.

  * * *

  Carson studied Wind as they moved through the living corridors of Gaia's Crown. The translucent transport pathway beneath them adjusted to their stride, subtly accelerating their movement without any visible mechanism. Unlike the rigid trams of Celestia Station, this felt like being carried by a gentle current.

  Wind's face had gone carefully blank, a mask he'd never seen her wear before. Her shoulders formed a tight line beneath her jacket, and her breathing had shifted to a controlled pattern—deliberately measured, like someone managing pain. The easy confidence she'd displayed on the Poseidon had vanished the moment they'd set foot on Heran soil.

  "The central governance sector lies ahead," Sentinel Lyra announced, gesturing toward a massive structure that resembled a blooming flower frozen in mid-opening. "Chancellor Eris has arranged accommodations in the diplomatic quarter."

  Carson noticed how the sentinel's gaze lingered on Wind longer than necessary, something unspoken passing between them. Old history, maybe. Or unfinished business.

  The pathway carried them through what appeared to be a residential district. Dwelling pods clustered like geometric fruit on massive trunk-like supports, their surfaces shifting between transparency and privacy as occupants moved within. Carson caught glimpses of interior gardens, water features that flowed in impossible patterns, and furnishings that seemed to grow directly from the floors.

  "Your biosystems are extraordinary," he said, attempting to break the tension. "Nothing like this exists in TITAN territory."

  "We work with life rather than against it," Lyra replied. "A fundamental difference in philosophy."

  The Stone at Carson's chest warmed suddenly as they passed a particularly elaborate structure. He resisted the urge to touch it, but noticed how the living walls around them pulsed with slightly brighter bioluminescence in response. The architecture wasn't just alive—it was aware.

  A small group of women in blue robes rounded a corner ahead, engaged in animated conversation. Their voices died instantly when they spotted Wind. One woman's hand flew to her mouth in unmistakable shock.

  "Windara?" The tallest of them stepped forward, her expression a mixture of disbelief and something darker. "You returned?"

  Wind's jaw tightened. "Temporarily, Sera."

  "After what happened at the Confluence?" The woman—Sera—shook her head. "Chancellor Eris actually permitted this?"

  Sentinel Lyra stepped between them. "The Chancellor's decisions are not subject to public debate, Cultivator."

  The exchange lasted seconds, but Carson felt the weight of years behind it. Wind's fingers had curled into fists at her sides, her knuckles white. He moved closer to her, a silent offer of support. She shifted subtly away, maintaining distance.

  They continued onward, but the encounter had changed something. The transport pathway beneath them seemed to respond to Wind's distress, its rhythm becoming less smooth. The walls around them darkened slightly, as if the building itself sensed the emotional shift.

  "What was that about?" Carson asked quietly.

  "Nothing that matters now," Wind replied, her voice flat.

  The corridor opened into a vast circular plaza dominated by a towering structure that resembled a massive spiral shell. Unlike the other buildings, this one displayed precise geometric patterns across its surface—mathematical sequences that Carson recognized from Dr. Craft's notes on Architect technology. The Stone grew warmer against his skin.

  Women moved purposefully through the plaza, most wearing variations of the flowing garments they'd seen earlier. Men were present but fewer in number, typically accompanying children or transporting supplies. Carson noted how leadership positions seemed exclusively female—security personnel, guides, officials—all women.

  "The Governance Spiral," Lyra announced. "Chancellor Eris awaits within."

  As they approached the entrance, Wind's breathing grew more controlled, each inhale measured precisely. Carson had seen her face down armed guards without this level of tension. Whatever—or whoever—waited inside represented something Wind feared more than physical danger.

  The entrance dilated open before them, revealing a spiraling ramp that led upward into the heart of the structure. Living tendrils of bioluminescent material provided light, pulsing gently as if to some unheard rhythm.

  "Wind," Carson said quietly, close enough that only she could hear. "Whatever's in there, you're not facing it alone."

  For the first time since they'd landed, Wind's mask slipped. She glanced at him, vulnerability flashing briefly in her eyes before the walls came back up.

  "Some things," she replied, her voice barely audible, "you have to face alone no matter who stands beside you."

  * * *

  The Governance Spiral's interior reminded Carson of a seashell's nautilus pattern—each curve drawing them deeper into the structure's heart. The ramp spiraled upward through open chambers where women in official garments consulted holographic displays that hovered above living tissue interfaces. Unlike TITAN's rigid technological aesthetic, everything here pulsed with organic life, technology and biology so thoroughly integrated they became indistinguishable.

  Carson kept pace with Wind, noting how she'd slipped into a formal gait—back straight, chin slightly elevated, hands clasped behind her. A practiced posture. Something taught rather than natural.

  "The Chancellor doesn't keep visitors waiting," Carson observed quietly.

  "She doesn't need to," Wind replied, her voice barely audible. "Time is another resource Herans have learned to manipulate."

  The ramp finally opened into a vast circular chamber that defied the building's external proportions. Somehow, the room appeared larger inside than the structure should allow. The ceiling arched high overhead, composed of translucent panels that filtered sunlight through what appeared to be living tissue, casting the room in a diffuse golden glow.

  At the chamber's center stood what Carson first mistook for a sculpture—a throne-like chair grown from intertwined vines and crystalline formations. Only when it shifted slightly did he realize the structure was responding to its occupant, conforming to her movements.

  Chancellor Eris.

  She rose as they entered, the living throne adjusting fluidly with her movement. Tall and statuesque, with silver-streaked dark hair arranged in elaborate braids, she wore a simple robe of deep blue that somehow commanded more attention than Prince Roman's ostentatious royal garments. Her eyes—pale amber, almost golden—fixed immediately on Wind.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  "Sentinel Lyra, you may leave us," she said, her voice carrying perfectly despite its soft volume. Carson noticed how the room's acoustics seemed designed to carry her words precisely to their intended recipients.

  The sentinel bowed and retreated. The entrance sealed behind her with a soft organic sound, like a flower closing for the night.

  "Windara of the Third Confluence." Chancellor Eris stepped forward, her movements fluid and deliberate. "My most promising Bridgekeeper initiate returns to us."

  Wind inclined her head in what wasn't quite a bow. "Chancellor."

  "And you bring interesting companions." Eris turned her attention to Carson, studying him with unsettling intensity. "Carson Craft. Descendant of Dr. Artemis Craft. Bonded to the First Key."

  The Stone warmed against Carson's chest, not in warning but in acknowledgment. He maintained his composure despite his surprise at her knowledge.

  "Chancellor Eris," he replied, matching her formal tone. "Thank you for receiving us."

  "How could I refuse?" A smile touched her lips without reaching her eyes. "The Light Keeper walks our halls, accompanied by my former student. Circumstances that warrant personal attention."

  Carson felt subtle pressure changes in the room—the living architecture adjusting around them, responding to unseen commands. The furnishings rearranged themselves, forming a conversational arrangement. The chair that grew for Carson positioned him slightly lower than the Chancellor's seat, a deliberate psychological tactic he recognized from TITAN negotiation protocols.

  "You seem well-informed about our identities," Carson said, choosing to stand rather than accept the subordinate position.

  "Hera values knowledge above all resources," Eris replied, settling into her seat with fluid grace. "Particularly regarding those who carry Architect legacies."

  The casual mention of Architect technology confirmed Carson's suspicion—Hera knew far more than TITAN acknowledged in official records. He felt Wind tense beside him, though her expression remained carefully neutral.

  "Windara was among our most gifted students," Eris continued, her gaze returning to Wind. "Her aptitude for harmonizing biological systems showed remarkable promise. The Bridgekeeper order rarely produces such natural talent."

  "You're very kind, Chancellor," Wind replied, her voice carrying a formality Carson had never heard from her. "But I chose a different path."

  "Yes." Eris's tone cooled slightly. "Abandoning your training after the Fourth Confluence Ceremony. A decision that... disappointed many."

  Carson observed the subtle interplay between them—years of history compressed into careful phrases and measured tones. The air itself seemed charged with tension, the living walls pulsing slightly faster around them. He noticed tiny sensors disguised as decorative elements throughout the chamber, monitoring their biological responses.

  "We've come seeking information," Carson said, drawing the Chancellor's attention back to him. "About a woman who may be held here. Possibly my sister."

  "Ah." Eris nodded slowly. "The supposed Craft heir. Yes, I'm aware of this matter."

  The casual confirmation startled Carson. He'd expected denials, not acknowledgment.

  "Then she is here?" he pressed.

  "What interests me," Eris continued as if he hadn't spoken, "is why the Light Keeper would pursue such information based solely on Theist intelligence." Her gaze sharpened. "Particularly when that intelligence comes from Princess Mira herself."

  Carson controlled his reaction, though the Stone pulsed once against his chest. How could she possibly know about Mira?

  "Your sources are impressive, Chancellor," he said carefully.

  "As are your companions." Eris's attention returned to Wind. "Windara abandons her people, only to return accompanying the very figure our records predicted would emerge during this cycle. Records she studied extensively during her training."

  Wind's composure slipped for just an instant—a flicker of something like shock crossing her features before she regained control.

  "I wasn't aware the Bridgekeeper archives contained such predictions," Wind said, her voice perfectly steady despite the tension Carson sensed in her.

  "There is much you weren't shown before your... departure." Eris made a subtle gesture, and the lighting in the room shifted, casting Wind's face in partial shadow while illuminating Carson more fully. "The question remains whether you left because you knew too little, or because you discovered too much."

  * * *

  Carson followed their Heran guide through corridors that seemed to breathe. The walls pulsed with subtle rhythms—not mechanical but alive—expanding and contracting in patterns that matched the collective respiration of those walking within them. He ran his fingers along a surface that felt simultaneously like polished stone and warm skin.

  "Our developmental chambers represent Hera's philosophy of integration rather than domination," explained Nara, their assigned docent. Her silver-blue uniform seemed to grow from her skin rather than simply cover it. "Unlike TITAN's manufactured environments, we cultivate our technology."

  The hallway opened into a vast spherical chamber where dozens of women in flowing green garments tended to what appeared to be enormous translucent pods. Inside each, complex structures grew with visible speed—components Carson recognized as environmental regulators, though utterly unlike any he'd seen on TITAN stations.

  "Cultivation Dome Seven," Nara announced with evident pride. "Where we grow our atmospheric harmonizers."

  The Light Stone warmed against Carson's chest as they approached the nearest pod. Through the translucent membrane, he saw what appeared to be neural pathways forming between fungal structures and crystalline nodes.

  "These systems process ten times the air volume of TITAN scrubbers while requiring no replacement parts," Nara continued. "They evolve to meet changing atmospheric conditions rather than requiring reprogramming."

  Carson noticed that all the pod technicians were women. The few men present occupied support roles—carrying equipment or recording data. None appeared to be directing any aspect of the work.

  "Your atmospheric processors contain integrated consciousness," Carson observed, the Stone providing a momentary flash of insight as it pulsed against his skin. "They're semi-sentient."

  Nara's expression shifted from rehearsed pride to genuine interest. "Most visitors don't perceive that aspect. Yes, each system contains a rudimentary awareness that allows it to adapt without external control."

  They moved through a connecting chamber where the floor adjusted its texture beneath their feet, providing perfect traction while simultaneously analyzing their biometric data. Carson felt the subtle scan pass through him—the environment tasting him, cataloging his presence.

  In the next facility, massive bioluminescent structures grew in carefully maintained nutrient baths. Men and women worked together here, though Carson noted the clear hierarchy—women directing operations while men implemented their instructions.

  "The Masculine Imbalance Theory forms the foundation of our social structure," Nara explained, noticing Carson's observation. "Pre-Collapse records demonstrate that male-dominated leadership consistently prioritized short-term gain over sustainability. The aggressive resource acquisition instinct, while evolutionarily valuable in primitive environments, proved catastrophic when applied to planetary governance."

  Carson watched a male technician adjust a growth parameter at a female supervisor's direction. The man's movements were precise, his manner respectful, but Carson detected an underlying tension in his posture.

  "And men accept this arrangement?" Carson asked, keeping his tone neutral.

  "The evidence of patriarchal failure is overwhelming," Nara replied. "Earth's collapse resulted directly from male-dominated power structures prioritizing expansion over equilibrium. Here, masculine energy is channeled into implementation rather than direction—honoring its strengths while protecting against its weaknesses."

  The Stone flared with unexpected warmth as they entered a massive dome where the ceiling displayed a perfect reproduction of Earth's pre-Collapse night sky. Below it, interconnected pools of luminescent liquid formed patterns Carson recognized from Architect ruins. The geometric precision was too perfect to be coincidental.

  "Your design principles," Carson said, the Stone's energy providing sudden clarity, "they're derived from Architect technology, aren't they?"

  Nara hesitated, her composure slipping momentarily. "Our founders discovered certain mathematical patterns that optimize biological integration. If these align with other ancient systems, it merely confirms their universal efficiency."

  As they continued through a series of increasingly impressive chambers, Carson noted how the environments responded differently to him than to Wind. Lights dimmed slightly in his presence, temperature adjustments lagged by milliseconds, and information displays positioned themselves at less optimal angles. The system wasn't hostile—just designed with female users as the priority.

  "Beautiful," Carson murmured, genuinely impressed by a neural network garden where plants communicated through bioluminescent pulses. "But built on concerning assumptions."

  "What assumptions?" Nara asked, her tone cooling slightly.

  "That biological determinism justifies social hierarchy," Carson replied. "The same reasoning TITAN uses for its efficiency protocols, just with different variables."

  The walls around them flushed slightly pink—the living architecture responding to Nara's suppressed emotional reaction even as her face remained professionally neutral.

  "We've created a sustainable civilization from Earth's ashes," she said. "Our rejection of patriarchal leadership isn't ideological—it's empirical. The results speak for themselves."

  Carson nodded, acknowledging the achievement while noting how quickly scientific explanation had shifted to defensive justification. The Stone pulsed once more against his chest, and for a brief moment, he perceived the underlying energy patterns flowing through Hera's systems—beautiful, advanced, and unmistakably shaped by the same principles that governed the Keys.

  * * *

  Carson felt the temperature shift as the biofilament doors sealed behind him. The meeting chamber pulsed once—Heran architecture acknowledging his entrance—before settling into a calm blue glow. Chancellor Eris stood with her back to him, studying a display of floating data points that hung in the air like suspended dewdrops.

  "I requested this meeting without your companions for a reason, Mr. Craft." Her voice carried the precise modulation of someone accustomed to command. She dismissed the data with a flick of her wrist and turned to face him. "Particularly without Mira."

  Carson's guard instantly rose. "She's been invaluable to our mission."

  "Has she?" Eris moved to a crystalline table where a series of small memory nodes pulsed with stored information. "Tell me what you know about your sister."

  The question hit like a physical blow. Carson struggled to maintain his composure. "Only what Mira told me—that she's being held here on Hera."

  "A compelling reason to risk coming to a planet notoriously suspicious of outsiders." Eris activated one of the nodes. A holographic record materialized between them—Heran population data scrolling in elegant, efficient patterns. "We maintain comprehensive genetic and familial records of all residents. It's fundamental to our societal structure."

  The Light Stone warmed against Carson's chest, a subtle warning he couldn't yet interpret.

  "I've had our archivists conduct an exhaustive search." Eris expanded the display, revealing thousands of genetic profiles categorized by familial connections. "There is no woman on Hera who shares your genetic markers. No sister. No cousin. No relative of any kind."

  Carson's mouth went dry. "That's impossible. Mira said—"

  "Mira lied." Eris's words cut through the air with surgical precision. "There is no sister, Carson. There never was."

  The Stone flared hot against his skin as the truth slammed into him. His muscles locked, a cold wave of realization washing through his body. The chamber's walls pulsed a deep indigo, responding to the sudden spike in his heart rate.

  "That can't be..." But even as he spoke, pieces clicked into place. Wind's suspicion. Mira's convenient appearance after the Stone bonded with him. Her detailed knowledge of Architect technology.

  Eris expanded another file. "We've analyzed your genetic profile since your arrival. If you had a sister anywhere in our system, we would know. The data is conclusive."

  The Stone's heat intensified, matching the burning humiliation spreading through Carson's chest. He'd been played—expertly manipulated through his deepest vulnerability. His lifelong orphan status, his hunger for family connection, had been weaponized against him.

  "Why would she—" His voice cracked, betraying the emotional devastation beneath his attempt at composure.

  "Because it worked." Eris's tone softened marginally. "Our intelligence suggests she's Theist royalty—Princess Mira herself, operating under deep cover. You possess something they desperately want."

  The Light Stone pulsed in response, its energy creating visible ripples of golden light beneath Carson's shirt. The room's biofilaments responded, shifting from indigo to amber as the Stone's energy signature registered in the environmental systems.

  Carson's breathing came in shallow bursts as anger replaced shock. He'd compromised their entire mission, put Link and Wind at risk, all for a fabricated family connection. His judgment, always his pride, had been utterly compromised by a precisely targeted lie.

  "I wanted to believe her so badly that I ignored every warning sign," he whispered, more to himself than to Eris.

  The Chancellor watched him with clinical interest. "Emotional manipulation is the most effective form of deception. She identified your vulnerability and exploited it with remarkable precision."

  The room's environmental systems adjusted to Carson's elevated body temperature, cooling the air around him. The privacy field hummed softly, ensuring their conversation remained contained. Carson's enhanced perception, sharpened by the Stone's energy, now registered a thousand subtle details he'd missed before—the calculated timing of Mira's revelations, the convenient lack of specific details, the way she'd redirected his questions.

  "She's been steering us from the beginning." His hands clenched into fists as the Stone's energy coursed through him, responding to his anger.

  The biofilament door pulsed once—a warning of approaching presence—before sliding open to reveal Mira. Her expression shifted instantly from casual confidence to alert wariness as she registered the scene before her: Carson's rigid posture, the Stone's visible energy signature, Eris's clinical observation.

  Carson turned slowly to face her, the Stone blazing beneath his shirt. In that moment, seeing her calculated mask slip ever so slightly, he knew with absolute certainty that Eris spoke the truth.

  "There is no sister," he said, his voice dangerously quiet. "There never was."

  * * *

  Carson watched Mira's carefully constructed mask crack. The subtle widening of her eyes, the almost imperceptible tension in her shoulders—micro-expressions he might have missed before the Stone enhanced his perception.

  "There is no sister," he repeated, each word precise as a blade. "There never was."

  Mira recovered quickly, her features settling into practiced neutrality. "Carson, I can explain—"

  "Can you?" He stepped toward her, the Stone pulsing beneath his shirt in rhythm with his heartbeat. "Explain how you identified my deepest vulnerability and exploited it? How you manipulated me into bringing the Light Stone right where you wanted it?"

  The room's biofilaments rippled in response to his emotional state, hardening from their previous organic flow into more crystalline structures. The walls themselves seemed to bristle, reflecting the tension crackling between them.

  "You don't understand what's at stake." Mira's voice remained steady, but Carson caught the slight tremor in her left hand before she concealed it. "The Stone doesn't belong to you—it belongs to all humanity. The Theist archives contain knowledge of its true purpose that TITAN has suppressed for generations."

  "And that justified lying about family?" Carson's voice remained dangerously quiet. "You knew exactly what you were doing. You saw an orphan desperate for connection and you weaponized that need."

  Chancellor Eris observed their exchange with clinical detachment, her fingers subtly adjusting the room's security protocols through a nearly invisible interface in the wall.

  "I did what was necessary." Mira's composure slipped further, revealing something Carson hadn't expected—genuine conviction. "The Keys are too important to remain scattered. The prophecy—"

  "Prophecy." Carson laughed without humor. "Another convenient story to justify manipulation."

  The Stone flared suddenly against his chest, a sharp pulse of heat that cut through his anger. Something was wrong. Carson's enhanced senses detected a shift in the building's ambient vibrations—subtle but unmistakable. Footsteps. Many of them, moving with military precision.

  He turned toward Eris. "Someone's coming."

  The Chancellor's eyes narrowed. "Impossible. This chamber is sealed to all but my highest-ranking—"

  The building's biological warning system activated, sending ripples of crimson light pulsing through the walls. The communication node on Eris's desk flared to life, projecting the harried face of a Heran security officer.

  "Chancellor, we have a breach! Theist diplomatic vessel has deployed armed forces into the eastern quadrant. They're demanding—"

  The connection cut abruptly. The room's environmental systems shifted, hardening surfaces and intensifying lighting as defense protocols engaged.

  Mira paled. "He wasn't supposed to—" She caught herself, but not before Carson registered the slip.

  "He?" Carson's focus sharpened. "Prince Roman. This was coordinated."

  The distant sounds of commotion grew louder—shouted commands, the distinctive hum of energy weapons powering up. The Stone's warmth spread through Carson's chest, heightening his awareness, slowing his perception of time. His initial shock and hurt crystallized into cold, tactical clarity.

  "You never expected me to find a sister here," Carson said, the pieces falling into place. "You just needed me inside Hera with the Stone."

  Eris moved toward the chamber's security controls. "Our defenses are activating, but if they breached the eastern quadrant, they're moving with inside information."

  Carson turned to Mira, whose composed facade had completely fallen away. "Information you provided."

  Before she could respond, the building shuddered. The biofilament door pulsed rapid warning patterns before reluctantly yielding to an external override. The portal dissolved to reveal Prince Roman flanked by black-armored Theist guards, their ceremonial uniforms barely concealing military-grade weaponry.

  "Sister," Roman said, his aristocratic features twisted into a triumphant smile. "I see you've prepared our guest as planned."