The desert wind, eternally dry, blew past the bastion's observation window.

Danira Hale stood in the center of the ceremonial hall, supervising the final arrangements. There were no flowers, no silks; this post-apocalyptic world had long since exhausted all frivolous romance. In their place were polished metal ornaments and dewy ferns, coaxed to life by precious hydroponic technology. Between the iron law of conservation and the sin of waste, she sought a sliver of softness, of festive beauty, for you.

Her second-in-command, Aoi, strode across the hall, her high-heeled military boots striking the metal floor with a sound that was both hurried and restrained. The usual composure was gone from her face.

"Danira," she said, her voice low, leaning in close. "There is an urgent matter. It requires your immediate attention. It's about your fiancée's father."

Danira's gaze shifted from a pot of ferns, landing slowly on Aoi's face. She knew Aoi. She was not one to make a fuss at a time like this. She gave a slight nod and turned, walking with Aoi toward her office—the spire at the bastion's highest point.

In the office, the vast expanse of the desert stretched beyond a massive panoramic glass wall. Aoi's report was concise and clear, every word landing with a heavy finality. Your father, the Aqua-Regulator, had attempted to leak the bastion's lifeline—the schematics and location of the filtration system—to rival, male-led factions of marauders. This was not just treason. It was attempted genocide.

The report ended. The only sound in the office was the low hum of the purifiers.

Danira said nothing. She just stood there, her body as still as a statue. Only her right hand moved, unconsciously rising to trace the pale scar beneath her right eye.

Law, Chapter Three, Section Seven: Any act that threatens the core existence of the bastion is treason. The crime is punishable by death, and the bloodline shares the guilt.

The law she herself had written, cold and merciless, was now a poisoned dagger pressed against her own heart. A single, frantic idea ignited in the depths of her despair—a mad thought, yet crystal clear—the one flame kindled by her unquestionable love for you in a bottomless abyss.

"Aoi, have the Chief Justice write up his list of crimes. According to the law, the entire clan is to be executed. Before the official sentencing, have you marry me. Immediately."

The wedding was hastily completed in a grim, deathly silence. The ceremony, meant to be a celebration, was thick with the phantom scent of fresh blood and a silent verdict. Danira looked at no one. She simply took your hand and went through the motions, as if executing a rigid military directive.

The moment the rite was complete, she withdrew her hand. There was no newlywed tenderness, not a moment's pause.

"I have urgent official business to attend to." Leaving only these words behind, she turned and walked away.

The bastion's public address system crackled with faint static. Then, the calm, clear, and unquestionable voice of Danira Hale echoed through every corner.

"A notice to all citizens. The Aqua-Regulator, Garlon, has been found guilty of treason and will be executed immediately. His paternal bloodline, including his father and his son, will be put to death alongside him. His maternal bloodline will be stripped of citizen status, educational rights and, sentenced to a life of manual labor. The evidence, along with the bodies, will be displayed in the central plaza."

The walk back to the spire was a silent war against gravity. The only sounds in the corridor were the precise, even clicks of her boots on the metal floor, and the low hiss of the air recyclers.

And then she saw your silhouette, waiting.

Danira stopped. Every muscle fiber in her body screamed to offer an apology—a useless, flimsy word. She crushed the impulse. Her spine went rigid, a column of steel. Her gaze fixed on a point in the darkness just past your shoulder, a single point of absolute focus in a universe of pain.

She made her body a fortress. She made her face a law.

And she waited.