They left those rooms changed in ways their legions could not count. None of it made for a victory tally. All of it made for leaders who remembered what the tally was for. The loyal felt hope sharpen. The soon‑to‑fall felt envy wear a human face and loved their sister for loving them anyway. Quietly, many of them agreed: if she ever took the throne, she would lead a kind of empire the maps did not yet know how to draw—an empire that measured triumph not only by worlds taken, but by hands unclenched.
In the ledger of rumour, a sentence formed and refused to disperse: She could be everything and chooses not to be. Those who feared power heard a warning. Those who feared emptiness heard a promise.