The Veil of Deception

The city is breathing lies. I can feel them crawling through the streets, winding up alleyways, twisting into every face, every thought, every whispered question. The Dominion has learned how to do more than silence; they've learned how to rewrite reality itself. They've painted fear and obedience onto the city like a canvas, and every citizen is a brushstroke under their control. I move along the rooftops, hood drawn tight against the drizzle, boots whispering over wet tiles. Below, Dominion patrols march in rigid lines, unaware that we are watching, that we are alive. Every shadow could be an ally, every flicker of movement a warning. My pulse is steady, my mind sharp. Seven days. Fourteen hours. Three minutes. Thirty-three seconds. The clock isn't theirs-it belongs to us, to the Remnant, and the countdown of courage has already begun. Lyra slides onto the rooftop behind me, breath uneven but eyes fierce.