"Traitor! Kill her!" "Traitor!" the crowd roared back, a single animal voice that swallowed the wind on the rear hill platform. "Bring her forward," Avery Ball said, calm and sharp. Her smile was the kind that finished sentences for people. "Camilla Cantrell, founder of Xuantian, accused of colluding with the Eastern Heretics. The evidence is clear." "Show us!" an elder shouted. "Read it," another demanded. A courier unrolled a scrap of parchment. Avery took it and read aloud with theatrical slowness. "Signed and sealed by Master Camilla: correspondence with the Eastern Heretics detailing transfer of artifacts and ritual knowledge. For reasons of sect safety, this council recommends immediate exile and death." "No—" Camilla began, stepping forward despite the cords that already bit into her wrists. "Silence," Andre Barbier barked. He stepped between her and the crowd. His voice had weight. "The council judges." Camilla's voice was a broken thing. "That letter—" "That letter is forged," Oliver shouted from the back. His voice cut through a few rows. "I saw the courier change his ink at the river gate." Avery's head turned the tiniest degree toward Oliver. Her smile widened. "So you saw. Good. Witnesses confirm." "Impossible." Camilla lunged for the scroll, knuckles white around the cord, and everyone leaned back like fish sensing a net. "My signature—my private cipher—Avery, you signed this?" Avery's smile sharpened. "I did what I had to for the sect." "She lies!" Camilla spat. "You begged to be named leader when