His messenger pigeon, bloodstained and trembling, perched on the window ledge, its tiny body quivering from exhaustion. His pulse quickened as he untied the scroll from its leg, hands steady—until he saw the words.
"They came from the trees. Fast. Silent. Tearing us apart. Not raiders. Velkhara… I may not make it. – Decimus"
The parchment shook in his grip.
Gaius had always trusted the Romulan Guard, the Senate, the empire itself. But he knew what he was about to find on the outskirts of Rema, and he knew what they would tell him.
He had no idea that by sunrise, everything he believed would begin to unravel.
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