Mercy spread faster than fear ever could.
Within days of Lord Veyra's pardon, petitions flooded the palace. Lesser houses asked for "clarification" of the new order. Guild leaders requested exemptions. Even ward-keepers who had never spoken in council suddenly found their voices.
Alisha read every request.
And with each one, she felt the strain.
"They think mercy is negotiable," Rowan said, watching her from across the solar.
"They think it's a resource," Alisha replied. "Something that runs out."
Caelan entered with a grim expression. "Reports from the lower districts. Ward maintenance teams are delaying repairs."
"Delaying?" Alisha frowned.
"Testing," Caelan corrected. "Seeing if consequences still exist."
That night, a food riot broke out near the river quarter—not violent, but loud enough to draw attention. Alisha went herself, dissolving the tension with calm authority and direct action.
She solved the problem.
But she felt something else.
Expectation.
Not gratitude.
You forgave him. Why not us?
The Eclipse stirred uneasily.
The betrayal did not come from Lord Veyra.
It came from his son.
Aurelian Veyra had always been quiet. Devout. The kind of man who bowed deeply and spoke rarely. He approached Alisha three nights later with measured humility.
"My lady," he said, kneeling. "I wish to thank you."
"For honoring your house?" she asked.
"For believing people can change."
Something about his tone lingered—but she dismissed the thought.
She shouldn't punish faith.
The first real blow struck at dawn.
Three ward-nodes failed simultaneously—not collapsing, but misdirecting energy. Defensive magic surged inward instead of outward, causing panic in protected districts.
Rowan went pale. "Someone rerouted the permissions."
Alisha's chest tightened. "That requires a co-key."
Only one house had recently received shared access.
House Veyra.
Caelan was already moving. "I'll bring them in."
"No," Alisha said sharply. "I'll go."
Aurelian did not resist arrest.
In fact, he welcomed her.
"You taught us something," he said calmly as they stood within the East Bastion's control chamber. "That power listens."
"It listens to responsibility," Alisha replied. "Not ambition."
He smiled faintly. "That's where we disagree."
The ward sigils flared.
Shadow bled through the lines—not violently, but with surgical precision.
"You believed mercy would unite," Aurelian continued. "But it only revealed weakness in the system."
Alisha felt the truth cut deep—not because he was right, but because he had used her values as leverage.
"You invited him," she said quietly.
"Yes," Aurelian admitted. "But he didn't force me."
The Shadow King's lesson echoed painfully clear.
Mercy fractures.