"And the Pact?" Isabella asked quietly.
The woman's fingers traced a faint circle on the table's edge before she replied.
"The name doesn't come up often. Most don't say it at all. But gears started to surface with a mark that wasn't there before.
Spiral-wing. Based on blood red. A claw-shaped tip curling downward."
"Origin?" Isabella asked.
"No confirmed labs. No underground filters match the refinement pattern. We've sent samples everywhere.
None of the known zones has the tech or the process to do this cleanly, and certainly not at the scale we've seen. That leaves only one explanation."
Isabella raised her chin slightly, studying the woman's eyes.
"Off-world?"
A flicker crossed the woman's expression. Not fear. Not a surprise. Something in between. A kind of tension that built under the surface before the truth escaped.
"No," she said slowly, voice lower than before. "Not off-world."
She leaned closer, shoulders stiffening.
"Beneath."
