Ruban shrugged, gazing pointedly at a particularly vibrant shower of sparks a little distance away. For a moment, it lit up the moonless night. “Well, you can’t argue with results.”

Unnati followed his gaze, then let out a defeated sigh. Indeed, these results were hard to argue with.

The city flickered with defiance. The random explosions of lights and sparks erupting across the skyline were from feather-burning parties. Despite the government’s best efforts to suppress it, the hashtag #bloodfeathers was trending on every social media platform. From bustling street markets to gleaming corporate towers, a chorus of outrage echoed. From street vendors to office workers to internet celebrities, everyone condemned the brutality with which Janak Nath and other mafia kingpins like him had obtained their ill-gotten Aeriel feathers.

Of course, it wasn’t always easy to tell which feathers had come from legitimate government auctions and which had originated in the black market. So, many celebrities and influencers publicly burned their Aeriel feathers. To raise awareness and voice their opposition to the barbaric brutality of the feather mafia.

The fiery displays from these feather-burning parties lit up the city tonight; symbolically powerful.

That the flickering flames of their public outrage all but guaranteed virality and skyrocketing social media fame?

That was just a nice bonus. A small compensation for the loss of those expensive Aeriel feathers.

“You don’t think this will impact the stock market?” Raizada asked. Without turning around, Ruban heard him perch lightly on his office desk. “The larger economy? All this back-and-forth with Vaan has already ratcheted up defense spending. Has caused our foreign exchange reserves to plummet.” He exhaled sharply. “This is more than just a social media fad, Ruban. It has the potential to put many smaller refineries out of business. Ruin several families. It’s not only Tej Enterprises that’ll pay the price for this social media crusade you’re instigating.”

“Perfect,” Ruban countered. “That should provide the government investigators with all the motivation they need to get to the bottom of this. Identify who leaked the video and why. Seize any additional footage they might have, and put them behind bars. Then we can go back to buying and selling Aeriel feathers the normal way. Set the economy to rights. Surely, that can’t be so hard.”

Without turning around, Ruban could all but feel Raizada grinding his teeth in frustration. Beside him, Unnati’s posture radiated tension.

Ruban closed his eyes, a curious cocktail of dread and exhilaration churning in his gut.

If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it.

The higher-ups hadn’t anticipated such defiance from him. It blindsided them.

Never before had Ruban pushed back like this; certainly not in defense of an Aeriel. The man he was three years ago – hell, even just a few months ago – would hardly recognize him now.

But watching that video of Ashwin, helpless and terrified in Janak Nath’s sadistic clutches, had enraged him beyond anything he could’ve imagined. Had stirred in him a primal urge to fight. To take action; do something. To rip apart the system that allowed such atrocities to occur.

And if the current social media maelstrom was any indication, he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. When Dhriti Pathak had leaked the torture video, she’d meant for it to humiliate Ashwin. And in some circles, it had done just that.

There was, however, a significant portion of the population in whom the video had stirred pity, empathy. Had fostered a sense of solidarity, where before there had been nothing but anger and distrust.

Humans were naturally wary of Aeriels. The prince of Vaan was charming – warm and witty in a way Aeriels typically were not. Or, at least, most humans weren’t used to seeing Aeriels in that light. Despite that, some suspicion lingered, giving rise to various conspiracy theories about him. Centuries of conditioning couldn’t be undone by a pretty face and witty quips, after all.

Yet, seeing Ashwin so vulnerable in that video, defiant despite the hopelessness of his situation – it fostered trust and solidarity that years of PR campaigns and charming press appearances couldn’t have achieved. It generated public sympathy not just for Ashwin, but for all the Aeriels Hunted and tormented by the feather mafia.

Consequently, anyone perceived as having any connection to the mafia was now reviled. The video, meant to glorify their barbarism, was met with disgust.

Tej Enterprises was the first to find itself on the receiving end of this public backlash. Political parties and nonprofits that had once cozied up to them for donations, couldn’t distance themselves fast enough. No less than three well-known brands had pulled their advertising from WNN in the last forty-eight hours.

So, Unnati might take issue with Ruban’s methods, but she couldn’t realistically argue with the results they generated.

Or so he had believed.

The sequence of events that followed left him breathless with dismay. And impotent fury. He cursed himself for not foreseeing this. For failing to grasp the depths to which a cornered predator would plunge, when pushed to its limits.

The antique cordless phone on Raizada's desk screeched to life.

Ruban spun just in time to see Raizada cast the phone a puzzled glance, before reaching for it. Pressing the clunky receiver to his ear, he barked a greeting. A brief exchange followed.

As the conversation progressed, Raizada’s demeanor grew increasingly tense, knuckles whitening around the receiver. His eyes flickered to Ruban for a brief moment, before he swiftly averted his gaze.

That small gesture sent a jolt of adrenaline through Ruban. What could possibly cause the IAW Director to avoid his gaze?

His unspoken question was answered minutes later, when Raizada set down the receiver. His face was ashen; his hands trembled slightly. Making himself meet Ruban’s eyes with visible effort, he rasped: “Another one.” He coughed, then tried again. “There’s been another leak.”

“What?” Unnati set her teacup down with a jarring thud, a hint of panic in her voice.

Ruban stood frozen, unable to muster a response. A thick fog of numbness had descended over him.

Raizada nodded shakily. “Two more videos. And I’m told—” He swallowed hard. “I’m told they’re worse than the first one.”