Author's POV:
The star-crested safehouse stood as a crumbling sanctuary in Wuhan's slums, its walls trembling under the dawn's weight, claw-crested jets roaring overhead, their shadows slicing through the dust. Master Wu stood outside, blade raised, his crest glinting beside Councillor Vey, her claw-crest cold, eyes sharper than steel, their alliance a noose around the family. Huang Yanyan gripped her star-etched dagger, its scratched seal—Yue's mark—burning with her role as the Huang key to Accord Core, a vault in Wuhan North promising a global grid, power beyond Island B's lost secrets. Her knife flashed, blood crusted on her cheek, shoulder and thigh oozing, ribs aching, but her stance was iron, Wuhan's fire blazing.
