Paris – November 11, 1937 – 6:27 AM
Flames licked the side of the corner building. The crowd swayed between screams and cheers, as if Paris had briefly forgotten it was standing on the edge of war.
Claire climbed the stairs, dodging shattered glass and smoke. Dorian stood at the center, arms raised like a conductor leading chaos.
— "Dorian Mercier!" she called out.
He turned slowly, the crowd still echoing behind him.
— "Well, well... the Brotherhood's invisible heroine."
Claire raised her weapon.
— "You're using symbols you don't understand."
— "I don't need to understand magic to see the failure of the old world."
Madeleine emerged on the right, calmly walking through the screams and flames.
— "Dorian, you always wanted a stage. Now that you have one, what will you do? Talk until Paris burns down?"
— "Paris already sank, madam. I'm just pulling survivors from the mud."
A sound cracked through the chaos.
Not a shot.
A presence.
The smoke shifted. And from it—like tearing through the air itself—Lorelei stepped forward.
Dressed in black. Eyes outlined in shadow. No weapon visible. Only her voice.
— "You're all looking the wrong way."
Silence.
Even Dorian stepped back.
— "Lorelei..."
Claire didn't lower her gun.
— "You came back for revenge?"
— "I came back because someone has to stop this circus from turning into a real bonfire."
Solène joined the circle.
— "And how do you plan to do that? With spells and perfume?"
Lorelei smiled with her eyes.
— "No. Today, I do it with truth."
She raised an envelope. Sealed with the crest of the German embassy.
— "This is proof that the assassination attempt on Reiner was authorized... by someone within the French government."
The crowd fell silent.
Claire glanced at Madeleine.
Émile, at the bottom of the stairs, looked up—as if he knew the weight of what had just been revealed.
And at the top of Montmartre, as the sky began to brighten, everyone realized:
The war might still be prevented.
But the scandal... was already unstoppable.