The broadcast didn't name Kael.
That was intentional.
It aired across three channels at once—patched feeds, pirated civic relays, private resonance loops that only activated if you were already listening closely enough.
A calm voice spoke.
Measured. Unemotional.
"Order failed because it pretended to be neutral."
Images followed.
The civic hall.
The scorched floor.
The empty center where someone had stood and ceased to exist.
"A single individual was forced to choose which lives deserved stability."
Kael watched from a darkened room as the footage looped.
Rae froze the frame. "That's edited."
Mira clenched her jaw. "But not wrong."
That was the danger.
The speaker appeared next.
A figure seated comfortably, face unobscured. No distortion. No anonymity. Just confidence.
A man in his early thirties, hair neatly tied back, eyes clear and focused.
Rae's breath caught. "He's Resonant."
Kael felt it instantly.
Not alignment.
Control.
The man smiled gently.
"My name is Orien Halvek.
And I believe order must answer to those it governs."
Mira scoffed. "That's a slogan."
"Yes," Rae whispered. "And a good one."
Orien continued.
"Kael Vorrin acted logically.
He preserved infrastructure over dissent."
The footage cut again—this time showing people fleeing the hall, slowed, reframed.
"This is what neutrality looks like when power decides it doesn't want to get its hands dirty."
Kael leaned forward. "He's framing me as cowardly."
"Worse," Rae said quietly. "He's framing you as comfortable."
Ashveil spoke.
"Narrative inversion detected."
The broadcast spread fast.
Not explosively.
Organically.
People shared it because it made sense.
Markets debated it. Assemblies cited it. Wardens didn't refute it.
Why would they?
It wasn't an attack.
It was an interpretation.
Orien's voice softened.
"I don't reject order.
I reject order without consent."
The screen shifted to show Orien walking through a district Kael recognized—the stabilized quarter. People moved easily around him.
"This is not chaos," Orien said.
"This is chosen coherence."
Mira swore. "He's doing what you do."
Kael shook his head. "No."
He watched carefully.
"He's letting people believe they're choosing," Kael said. "But he's already decided the shape."
Ashveil confirmed.
"Distributed influence masking centralized intent."
The final line landed clean.
"Power doesn't become just because it's quiet.
It becomes just when it answers."
The broadcast ended.
Silence followed.
Then the city erupted—not with riots, but with opinion.
Rae pulled up data streams. "Support's splitting. Fifty–fifty already."
Mira looked at Kael. "You need to respond."
Kael didn't answer immediately.
He stood and walked to the window.
Outside, people argued in small groups. Not angry. Not violent.
Convicted.
If he spoke now, he'd validate the frame.
If he stayed silent, it would harden.
Ashveil spoke, neutral but firm.
"Response timing will determine narrative ownership."
Kael exhaled slowly.
"He wants me reactive," Kael said. "Defensive."
Mira nodded. "So don't be."
Rae frowned. "Then what?"
Kael turned back to them.
"I don't answer him," Kael said.
They stared.
"I answer the choice he's pretending to offer," Kael continued. "Not with words."
Ashveil paused.
Then:
"Strategic reframing detected."
Kael felt the weight of it settle.
Orien hadn't attacked him directly.
He'd challenged who gets to define order.
Kael met Mira's gaze.
"Let him have the story," Kael said quietly. "For now."
She studied him. "You've got something better?"
He nodded.
"A demonstration."
Far away, Orien Halvek smiled as reports rolled in.
Because the story was working.
He just didn't yet realize what Kael intended to do with it.