POV: Thalia
Harken went first. Archive access review, northern incursion, standard scope. His confusion was immediate and genuine.
"Of course," he said. "What do you need from me?" He was already leaning forward in the chair.
"Your location — midnight to six a.m. on the night of the incursion," I told him, keeping it flat.
"Barracks," he said. "Four a.m. patrol — I was down from eleven. Six people will confirm the alarm."
"Any archive access in the days before the incursion?" I asked, making a note.
"Training schedules," he said. "Nothing operational — I can pull the log if you need it."
"Did anything seem unusual to you during that period?" I asked. "Anything noticed but not flagged?"
"No," he said, then paused with a frown. "Is there something I should have noticed?"
"Not something you would have flagged," I told him. "Anyone outside your unit in that window?"
"Just the patrol hand-off," he said. "Standard check-in. Nothing that stood out at all."
"Did anyone reach out to you outside normal channels in the days before the incursion?" I asked.
"No," Harken said, his expression completely clear and unguarded throughout the question.
"Thank you," I told him — his confusion had never once recalibrated itself throughout.
Soledad maintained composure as default rather than as a response to pressure, which made the surface useless for reading her.
"Overnight medical observation," she said. "Recurring shoulder. The doctor will have it documented."
"Archive access in the relevant window?" I asked, keeping my tone entirely routine.
"Duty roster only," she said. "Medical leave — I barely touched the system that week."
"Did anything seem off in the relevant window?" I asked. "Anyone ask you about patrol schedules?"
"No," she said, holding her composure like a second skin. "Should something have?"
"Part of it," I told her. "Nothing you should have done differently. Thank you."
Doran hadn't touched the archive in days, had three witnesses, and spent the whole conversation looking confused.
I gave myself a short window before Magnus — enough to confirm what I needed to see.
He came in without defensiveness and sat with the stillness of someone who knows how to wait a room out.
"Thalia," he said, settling back in the chair. "What are we doing here exactly?"
"Archive access review," I said. "Northern incursion. Senior council credentials fall within scope."
"Of course," Magnus said, with the ease of a man not surprised to be asked. "Ask what you need."
I did, keeping my delivery entirely flat and leaving no space for him to set a tone.
"Where were you between midnight and six a.m. on the night of the incursion?" I asked.
"Asleep in my room," he said. "Alone, no independent verification — I won't pretend otherwise."
"Did you access the compound archive in the days before the incursion?" I asked.
"A weeknight, earlier," he said. "Pre-truce territorial boundary documentation. Kieran mentioned it. The log reflects that access," he added, without shifting anything in his expression.
"Did you access the operational rotation files at any point during that archive session?" I asked.
"No," Magnus said — at the pace of a prepared answer. "Why would I? That wasn't my category."
"Were you aware of the updated patrol rotation before it went operational?" I asked.
"No," he said, steady. "Operational rotation detail isn't something I've ever tracked."
"Do you know who at the senior level holds that combined archive access tier?" I asked.
"Archive access is tiered," Magnus said. "You'd know who sees what better than I would."
"I'm asking what you know about it," I said quietly. "Not what I already know myself."
"Then I'm not tracking the access tiers of individual council members," he said.
"Were you aware of anyone with simultaneous access to archive and operational rotation documents?"
He held my gaze for a full beat before he answered. "No," he said. "Not that I'm aware of."
"Did anything come to your attention in the days prior that you didn't report?" I asked.
"No," Magnus said, steady in the specific way of a man who has decided in advance what steady means.
"Is there anything you'd like to tell me that I haven't asked about?" I said evenly. "Anything you noticed in the days before the incursion?" I pressed, watching him hold the question.
"Is there something specific you're looking for, Thalia?" Magnus asked carefully.
"I'm looking for anything useful," I said. "Which is often not the same as what I know to ask."
I waited, giving him the full silence — without filling a single second of it myself.
"You have something to say, Magnus," I told him. "I can hear you deciding not to say it."
"That's an assessment," Magnus said, holding very steady. "Not a question at all."
"No," I agreed quietly. "It isn't. But I wanted you to hear that I'd already noticed it."
He held the pause a beat longer than the question warranted. "No," he said. "I don't think there is."
"Thank you for your time," I told him, and kept my face exactly as professional as his.
I let him leave. What I had was tone — a man delivering a prepared version, not searching his memory. Not a finding. Not enough.
The training session was midway through when I arrived. I do this regularly and wasn't going to change it for a man I couldn't yet name.
Orion working combinations with Garrett's youngest. Luna sparring with methodical patience. Phoenix moving faster than her partner anticipated and making sure he knew she'd meant to.
I leaned against the fence post and watched — with the attention the session deserved and the part of me still in the interview room.
Orion jogged over between rounds, still working to catch his breath all the way back.
"You look like you're running math," he said. "You do that when work doesn't add up."
"I'm watching the session," I said, not turning away from the yard when I answered him.
"No," he said. "You're thinking and facing her direction." He jogged back before I could answer.
A short while in, Phoenix read a feint wrong. Her partner moved left when she'd committed right, and the shoulder check landed before she could correct. She went down hard.
Phoenix sat up, checked herself with her usual efficiency, then got up and ran — not toward me, but across the yard to its far edge, where Caroline was crossing with documents.
I stayed where I was and watched every single second of it without looking away.
Caroline registered Phoenix with twenty feet still between them, set her documents down without looking away, and opened her arms. Phoenix drove into her — face in Caroline's shoulder, Caroline's hand in her hair.
My hands stayed where they were. Every choice was deliberate, and I made them all without looking away.
Elara appeared at my shoulder without sound, which meant I'd been less present than I believed.
"Thalia," Elara said quietly, close enough that only I could hear. "Are you all right?"
"I'm fine," I said. And before I decided whether to say it: "How long has she been doing that?"