Magnolia watched from the shadows, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure it would give her away.

The corridor outside her father’s quarters was eerily quiet, the usual hum of station life dampened by the tension in the air. Syndicate operatives stood in a tight formation, their dark uniforms blending into the dim light. Their faces were obscured by helmets, but their stance left no doubt—they were here for blood.

Lord Tova stood in the center of the group, his polished demeanor cracked but not entirely broken. Even now, with a blaster pressed to the back of his head, he held himself with a shred of dignity. His white suit was pristine, save for the sweat beading at his temples. He didn’t beg, didn’t plead. He merely stood, his hands bound behind his back, his expression set in stony defiance.

“Any last words, Tova?” one of the operatives sneered, their modulated voice cutting through the suffocating silence.

Magnolia pressed herself against the wall, her magic swirling beneath her skin, begging for release. She wanted to intervene, to save him, to stop what was about to happen.

She clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms but her body refused to move. She couldn’t win this fight, not against the Syndicate.

Tova lifted his head, his gaze unflinching. “You’ll regret this,” he said evenly, his voice carrying just enough venom to make the operative pause. “You don’t understand what you’re meddling with.”

The operative laughed—a cold, humorless sound. “You think we’re afraid of you? You’ve run out of tricks, old man.”

Magnolia’s breath hitched as the operative raised their weapon. She felt the spark of magic flare in her chest, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her.

And then it happened.

The sound of the blaster shot echoed down the corridor, sharp and final.

Magnolia’s heart stopped as her father’s body crumpled to the floor. The once-imposing Lord Tova, who had ruled over their family and her life with such unyielding precision, now lay lifeless and small in a pool of crimson.

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She felt the scream rising in her throat, sharp and raw, but before it could escape, a strong hand clamped over her mouth.

“Magnolia,” Hanjoon’s voice was a low, urgent whisper in her ear, firm yet gentle. His other arm wrapped around her shoulders, holding her in place as she writhed against him, the magic surging beneath her skin threatening to explode.

“Stay quiet,” he said, his tone unyielding. “They’ll hear you.”

Magnolia’s tear-filled eyes darted toward the group of Syndicate operatives, who were already beginning to move. They hadn’t noticed her—yet. Hanjoon’s grip on her tightened as her body shook, her fists pounding weakly against his chest.

“They killed him,” she choked out against his hand, the muffled words barely audible.

“I know,” he said, his voice steady and calm, though there was a flicker of anguish in his golden eyes. “But you can’t do anything for him now. If you make a sound, they’ll kill you too.”

Sela appeared beside them, her steps silent as a shadow. She crouched low, her sharp eyes locked on the operatives. “They’re leaving,” she whispered. “We’ve got to move before they sweep the area.”

Magnolia stopped struggling, her breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. Hanjoon removed his hand slowly, watching her carefully. “Are you with me?” he asked softly, his voice coaxing her back from the edge of her grief-fueled magic.

She nodded, though her whole body trembled. “I… I can’t just leave him—”

“You have to,” Sela interjected, her voice firm but not unkind. “If you want justice, you can’t die here. Not like this.”

Magnolia clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms as she looked back toward her father’s lifeless form. The operatives were dragging his body away now, their voices low and indistinct as they worked.

“We’ll make them pay,” Hanjoon said, his golden eyes locked on hers. “But not now. Not like this.”

Magnolia swallowed hard, her throat burning with suppressed sobs. “Okay,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Hanjoon released her shoulders but stayed close, his hand hovering near her arm in case she faltered. Sela gestured for them to follow her, her movements quick and deliberate as she led them away from the scene.

As they slipped into the shadows of the station’s labyrinthine corridors, Magnolia glanced back one last time. The image of her father’s body, the blood pooling around him, seared itself into her mind—a memory that would haunt her for the rest of her life.

“This isn’t over,” she whispered, her voice trembling with both sorrow and resolve. “I swear it.”

Hanjoon placed a reassuring hand on her back, guiding her forward. “No, it’s not.”