Chapter 76. The Weight of Truth

“Miss Quinn, the Council will see you now.”

The assistant’s voice sliced cleanly through the silence of the corridor outside the Grand Chamber. Harper didn’t flinch. She rose with quiet precision, adjusting the black belt of her matte suit. This time, she didn’t have a ribbon or a clasp. Harper without any insignia. Just bone, breath, and steel.

She stepped forward slowly, heels muted on the marble floor, each footfall like punctuation. She had walked into rooms like this a hundred times before—but never like this. Never stripped of symbols, never so visible in her vulnerability.

When the chamber doors parted, the silence inside thickened.

Twelve Councilors sat behind curved obsidian panels, arranged in tiers like judges at a reckoning. Their eyes didn’t blink. Some etched in disapproval, some in thin curiosity. Not one offered a welcome.

They didn’t greet her with any applause or even polite inquiries. One could smell rude and direct expectations.