STARLIGHT UNBOUND by Deus Ex Machina - HTML preview

STARLIGHT UNBOUND

ready. ”

“You’re right. The Celestial Order can wait us out. We can’t afford to rush this. ”

Lyra hovered near the edge of the table, trailing her fingers over the jagged grooves etched into the wood. She hadn’t spoken since they arrived, her mind still tangled with the image of the house.

Corin ’s voice pulled her back. “Anything new?”

Her voice was even but distant. “Nothing worth reporting. Just noise.”

A lie. She isn ’t ready to talk about the painting—or Lucien. Not yet.

He studied her. “Fine. But we need something soon. The art’s working— people are noticing —but it’s not enough. We need more. Something that cuts deeper.”

Before she can answer, Harun leaned back in his chair, his voice teasing but pointed. “Speaking of people noticing... you spent extra time with someone at the exhibition.”

Lyra tensed.

“Who was he?”

“He didn’t look like the usual crowd.” Corin’s eyes narrow slightly.

Lyra keeps her voice steady. “No one. A civilian who liked a painting.”

Harun smirked whispering to himself. “Didn’t look like no one to me. Looked like he was ready to fall into it. ”

Her expression hardened. “If you’re worried, don’t be. I know what I’m doing.”

Corin let the silence stretch. “Good. Just be careful. Something’s always watching, and we can ’t afford unnecessary risks.”

Lyra ’s voice sharpened. “We’ve been playing it safe for too long. If we’re serious about taking down the system, we need action—not more meetings.”

“And what do you suggest?” Corin’s tone was calm but edged with warning. “Marching into the streets and declaring war? That’s suicide.”

Her eyes flash. “Maybe if we had a real plan—”

“Enough.” Harun lifted a hand, before the argument escalated. “This isn’t helping. ”

The air was thick, charged with frustration and the unspoken fear that hovers beneath their defiance.

Lyra fell silent, the shifted light cast jagged shadows across the walls, chaotic patterns that mirrored the turmoil in her mind.

The house remained at the edges of her thoughts—its softened edges, the warmth of imagined sunlight. It feels like a memory and a dream all at once.

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