The war had not yet begun in fire, but in silence.
In the days following Kael Draven's declaration, the galaxy didn't fall into chaos—it lurched. Systems held their breath. Traders hesitated. Supply chains slowed not from violence, but from fear. Whispers replaced negotiations. Rumors replaced intelligence.
And at the heart of it all, Silas stood poised—his empire of trade now under siege by a Sovereign who ruled not by credit, but by terror economics.
Inside the Sovereign's Echo, Eylin burst into the strategy chamber, strands of her silver hair clinging to her temples. "He's doing it again."
Silas didn't have to ask what.
She slammed a data tablet onto the table, its screen displaying the planetary grid of Virella IV—a mid-tier trading world under Accord protection. "Look."
