The heavy iron deadbolt on the office door slid shut with a satisfying, metallic clack.
Lyss Myrvalis stood before the door for three full seconds, her hand resting on the cold iron. She traced the edge of the aetheric warding seal painted over the keyhole. Intact. Unbroken. She engaged the secondary latch. She checked the seal again.
Her tail flicked sharply, striking the heavy oak frame of the door. Snap. She forced it still, taking a slow, measured breath before turning back to her desk.
Her office in the deep archives of the Ministry of Whispers was a windowless, heavily fortified bunker, and yet Lyss had never felt more exposed. For the past year, since she had commandeered the Tier-One decryption engine to process civilian trade ledgers, her peers had watched her with mounting skepticism. The Grand Ordinator's mandate to close the borders and transition the Sovereign Imperium to a closed economy had only heightened the tension.
