"You lie."
The word escaped her lips before she realized she had spoken.
The chamber froze.
Raven turned slowly.
Vanella had never spoken in court.
She clutched her chest as the visions crashed over her—too strong, too fast.
She saw it again.
The forged letters.
The staged southern attack.
The seal moving hands—Tiger hands.
The lie layered so thick it poisoned the water itself.
The ornamental basin shattered.
Water slammed outward—not violently, but precisely, curling around Jinhai's feet like a living thing.
Vanella gasped. "Ross did not strike first."
Jinhai's smile vanished.
"You overstep," he snapped.
"No," she whispered. "You forged it. The water remembers."
Silence.
Then laughter.
Mocking, sharp.
"A servant claims prophecy now?" Jinhai scoffed.
Raven stood.
The room bent toward him.
"Enough," he said.
He stepped down from the throne—slow, deliberate—until he stood beside Vanella.
"Water does not lie," Raven said calmly. "But people do."
Jinhai's gaze flickered.
Just once.
Raven saw it.
And so did several ministers.
Raven turned back to the court. "This matter is postponed. Any further accusations will be treated as treason until proven."
The court bowed—some reluctantly, some furiously.
Vanella's knees buckled.
Raven caught her wrist before she fell.
"Stay," he murmured quietly. "Breathe."
As the chamber emptied, the Tiger Clan withdrew with heads high—but eyes burning.
They had lost ground.
And they knew it.
Vanella did not understand what she had done.
But Raven did.
She was no longer a test.
She was evidence.