It took a full week for the dust to settle.
The noise in the streets slowly faded into quiet order. Silvanus was officially sworn in as interim President under the watchful eye of regional observers, former opposition leaders, and international media.
His speech was firm and brief, promising order, accountability, and a "clean reset of the national path."
But for all the fanfare and formality, the man behind that promise knew exactly who he owed his position to.
And that man was now seated calmly across from him.
Inside the Presidential House—a space still echoing with the ghost of the old regime—Tyler leaned back slightly in the leather armchair opposite Silvanus, his eyes steady, expression unreadable.
Silvanus shifted uncomfortably. Despite the fact that he now occupied the most powerful office in the country, the teenager sitting across from him made him feel oddly small.
