The room was an underground dome, its walls curving overhead, holding no more than twenty people. Not too large, not too small — just enough for hushed conversations to carry.
Torches flickered along the stone walls, casting warm, dancing shadows. At the far end, a stage was set, and atop it, a man sat with quiet authority on a throne, his presence commanding the space.
"Rumours are rumours… there were Niharin as well," Zero said, his tone steady, though a faint edge of nervousness lingered beneath it.
The man straightened, his eyes narrowing beneath the mask. "Say it clearly. Now is not the time for riddles."
"I… I mean—"
As Zero opened his mouth to speak, a white-hooded figure slipped through a wooden door. Its face was hidden behind a dark wooden mask, motionless and unreadable.
"Commander, Blake said you called for me?"
The man turned toward the white-hooded figure. "Yes, Zane. What's the situation in the South District?"
