The fracture did not announce itself.
It spread quietly.
Like hairline cracks in stone that only revealed themselves when pressure returned.
In Naples, the leader of the Ascendants stood alone in the same room of screens, watching footage from the monastery replay in silence. Children being carried out. Believers kneeling. Guards lowering weapons instead of firing.
Mercy.
It had not gone the way he intended.
A woman entered the room carefully. One of his earliest followers. Her voice was unsteady. "They are leaving."
He did not turn. "Who?"
"Some of the inner circle. They say you hesitated. They say the bearer turned you."
A muscle ticked in his jaw. "I did not hesitate."
"She stood her ground," the woman whispered. "And the children lived."
He turned then, eyes sharp. "That was always the point."
She swallowed. "Not to them."
The silence stretched.
