[Evelyn’s POV]

The knock comes at the council chamber door during Draven’s evening briefing, and when the guard announces the visitor, the air in the room changes.

“Venna requests a private audience, my lord.”

Draven’s pen stills. He glances at me — a quick look that asks whether I want to leave. I don’t move.

“Send her in.”

Venna enters in unmarked leathers, with no sigil or braid.

She’s thinner than the last time I saw her — hollows beneath her cheekbones deeper, cords in her neck more pronounced. Demotion is eating her from the inside.

Her gaze finds me standing beside Draven’s chair. Her jaw tightens — a flex she controls so fast it’s almost invisible.

“Speak,” Draven says.

Venna plants herself three paces from the desk, feet apart, hands clasped behind her back. The stance of a soldier delivering a report, even without the rank to justify it.

“The coded correspondence channel I created with Cassandra during the summit. Someone is using it.”

Draven’s expression doesn’t change.

“How do you know this?”

“I checked the dead drop myself three days ago.” She holds his stare without flinching.

“Not out of treachery but paranoia. When you stripped my rank, I assumed Sera’s team would dismantle the infrastructure — the drop points, the cipher, the relay chain. I wanted to confirm it was done.”

“It wasn’t.”

“The primary drop in the kitchen corridor was active. Fresh messages, recent ink, intelligence I never shared during my contact with Cassandra. Patrol schedules updated since my demotion. An analysis of the eastern approach — tidal patterns, reef coverage, the three-day window when shallow-draft vessels can navigate the channel.”

My pulse spikes. The eastern approach — the weakness I showed Draven on the map. Someone with current access is feeding that information outward.

“I never had that intelligence,” Venna continues. “I lost access to operational briefings the day you demoted me.”

“Whoever is using my channel has clearance I no longer possess.” She adds. “They’re seeing duty rosters, defensive assessments, briefing summaries — material that flows through the senior command structure or the administrative corridors adjacent to it.”

Draven leans forward. “You’re telling me someone with active intelligence clearance has co-opted the channel you built for Cassandra and is running it independently.”

“That’s what the evidence shows. The cipher is mine — I designed it, and whoever is using it has the full rotation key. Either they obtained it from Cassandra during the summit, or they were part of the original network I didn’t know about.”

“A second operative, already embedded before you made contact.”

“Possible… Or someone Cassandra recruited separately using the access my channel provided. Either way, the flow is current and detailed, and this isn’t leftover intelligence — it’s active espionage.”

Silence fills the chamber. I watch Draven’s hands on the desk — still, flat, the controlled stillness of a man calculating distances and trajectories.

“Why are you bringing this to me?” he asks.

The question hangs between them. It’s not an accusation but a genuine inquiry. Venna’s jaw works, and I see the effort it costs her to answer without defensiveness.

“The channel I created is being used to transmit intelligence that will get people in this compound killed. Patrol schedules tell an enemy where your guards aren’t. Eastern approach analysis tells them where to land an assault force. Defensive assessments tell them where to hit and where to avoid.”

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