Embers of Discontent

Seraphine’s POV

The diner’s windows were boarded shut, but light bled through the cracks—the flickering blue of the rebel broadcast still looping on every screen across the district. Seraphine stood at the center of the kitchen, hands deep in soapy water, scrubbing plates that hadn’t been used in weeks. Routine soothed her. Silence unsettled her.

Calix leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “They did it.”

Seraphine nodded. “The whole block’s watching. Even the silent ones.”

“I saw a woman out there crying. Said it was the first time in years she heard someone speak truth without flinching.”

Seraphine scrubbed harder.

Calix watched her. “You’re worried about Aldren.”

“I’m worried about all of them. But yes. Mostly Aldren.”

She dried her hands and moved to the window, peeling back a corner of the board. Outside, a small crowd had gathered—huddled around a salvaged projector. Torian’s face flickered on the wall, battered but unbroken.

“You know what they’ll do next,” Calix said.

She did. The Council wouldn’t retreat. They would clamp down. Harder, faster, uglier.

“They’ll turn him into a villain,” she murmured. “Echo too. Twist it. Call it a terrorist transmission.”

Calix snorted. “Won’t work. Not now. That broadcast cut deeper than they expected.”

Seraphine turned. “Then we have to be ready. This place—our diner—it’s going underground.”

Calix raised an eyebrow. “You mean literal underground?”

“I mean secret menus, signal routing, data smuggling inside biscuit deliveries.” Her tone didn’t waver.

Calix laughed once. “God, I missed this side of you.”

“I never left,” she said. “They just made me hide it.”

There was a knock—four soft taps. Then silence.

She moved to the door, unlocked it in stages. Torian stepped in, cloak torn, limping slightly. Behind him, Liora and Echo entered, all three soaked in ash and sweat, but alive.

“You made it,” she said.

“We lost the press,” Torian said. “But the signal lives.”

Seraphine reached out and pulled him into an embrace. “Then we just got louder.”

Across the street, a drone passed overhead. No one ducked. No one ran. They simply stared it down, eyes defiant, as if daring it to blink first.

In that moment, Seraphine knew: the cost of noise was high.

But silence… was far more dangerous.