The night over the Goldwing island never had time to settle.
We moved through it without warnings, without speeches about justice or balance. There was no need for words. The decision had already been made the moment Ryn chose arrogance over consequence.
I didn't lead.
Knight did.
Space bent subtly where he passed, not enough to alert defense, or enough to ripple alarms. His control was surgical now, refined by constant exposure to my space law.
The first Griffin never saw him.
One moment the Transcendent stood at the edge of a balcony, wings folded, senses spread outward in lazy confidence. The next, Knight's tail slid through his neck and out the other side in a smooth, practiced motion. There was no sound beyond a soft displacement of air as the body went limp.
We didn't pause. He moved again and I followed.
