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Hades leaned forward on his screen, his powerful frame commanding attention even digitally as he studied me.

"But perhaps they might mitigate the sentence," he said, his deep voice resonating through the chamber's speakers.

"The Pantheon's traditions exist for a reason, even those we have long neglected.

" He shared a brief glance with Rhadamanthys, who nodded.

"That is precisely our argument," Lo interjected, stepping forward to stand on my other side. "The evidence we present will demonstrate that Prometheus's actions weren't merely personal misconduct, but systemic violations that threatened the very foundation of the Pantheon's operations."

Dionysus leaned forward on his screen. "And why should the Tribunal consider such a claim? Luka Aleksandar has demonstrated himself to be unstable, disobedient, and dangerously unpredictable."

"Because the alternative is far worse for the Pantheon," Vincent replied. He moved to the center of the mosaic. "Before I present our case, I request permission to call a witness who can testify to the conduct that led to this killing."

The Tribunal conferred again, the three screens briefly going dark. I studied their interfaces, trying to gauge which way they were leaning when they returned. Minos seemed thoughtful, Rhadamanthys intrigued, while Aeacus remained utterly impassive.

"The Tribunal will hear your witness," Minos finally declared. "But be warned, Doctor. Our patience for theatrics is limited."

Vincent nodded at Lo, who moved to the bronze doors and spoke quietly to one of the guards. Moments later, the doors opened once more.

Ana entered, and my heart contracted painfully in my chest. She looked smaller than I remembered, fragile in a way that made me want to shield her from everything.

But there was steel in her spine as she walked to the center of the chamber, her eyes never leaving mine until she reached the witness position.

"State your name for the Tribunal," Minos instructed .

"Ana Mercer," she replied, her voice carrying a trace of our shared accent. "Born Ana Aleksandar, sister of Luka Aleksandar."

The directors stirred at this revelation. Hera leaned forward, her cold eyes narrowing. "You claim to be the accused's sister? According to our records, Ana Aleksandar died in Bosnia in 1996."

"I was taken from Bosnia during the conflict," Ana confirmed. "Separated from my brother, who believed me dead until three days ago."

"And how did you come to be married to Director Prometheus?" Rhadamanthys asked.

Ana's composure wavered slightly, her hands clasping tightly together as tears welled in her eyes.

"I grew up believing I was Serbian. That my parents died in the Bosnian conflict and Lincoln rescued me from a refugee camp.

That I was one of them. But three days ago I learned the truth.

That I am Bosniak, not Serbian. That the people I was taught to identify with were the ones who massacred our village.

Who murdered our parents while we hid." She met my eyes across the chamber.

"He made me become the very people who destroyed everything we loved.

Made me proud of their heritage, their customs."

A tear slipped down her cheek. "And every time I called that monster 'husband,' I was betraying the family he stole from me."

The chamber fell silent as her words hung in the air.

One of the Directors—the Irish woman with flame-red hair—pressed her hand to her mouth, shocked.

Another looked away, discomfort tightening his jaw.

Even Hera, cold and rigid on her screen, couldn't completely mask the momentary widening of her eyes.

Hearing it all again made bile surge up my throat.

I swallowed it back, the taste lingering on my tongue like poison.

My muscles locked tight, fingernails digging half-moons into my palms deep enough to draw blood.

I bit the inside of my cheek until I tasted copper, the metallic tang grounding me.

The nearest guard shifted nervously, hand drifting to his weapon as he noticed the change in me.

"He personally oversaw my education,” Ana continued. “My development. He shaped every aspect of my life. When I was eighteen, he told me he had fallen in love with me and wanted me to become his wife. I believed I was making a choice, but now I understand there was never any choice at all."

"And you consented to this marriage?" Aeacus asked sharply.

Ana's lips twisted in a bitter smile that mirrored my own.

"How could I not? In my mind, I owed this man my life. He kept me cut off from other relationships. I was young. Ignorant. He made certain of it. I’d been brainwashed to believe only he could care for me, that only he loved me.

Ever since I was seven years old, Lincoln was the only man of any substance in my life.

I was conditioned from childhood to become exactly what he wanted, just as my brother was conditioned to become his perfect assassin. "

"These allegations are disturbing but irrelevant to the matter at hand," Minos stated from his screen. "The Pantheon does not concern itself with the personal lives of its directors."

Helios shifted uncomfortably on his screen, his Indian accent gentle but firm as he spoke. "Perhaps we should. If what she describes is true, it represents a fundamental corruption of our principles."

"A director who behaves in such a manner clearly does not have The Pantheon’s guiding principles at heart," Hades pointed out.

“Never mind the implications this has in the real world,” added the Irish woman.

“Prometheus’ actions, while not taken as part of his role in the Pantheon, draw unwanted attention.

They threaten to expose us to the world.

If such a thing were to happen, our organization would fracture. These are cardinal sins. ”

Vincent stepped forward again. "With respect, Judge Minos, these allegations are central to our case.

Lincoln Mercer systematically abused his position to separate two children, to manipulate and condition them for his own purposes.

In Luka's case, this included sexual assault when he was eighteen years old in Milan, during what was supposed to be his first international mission. "

My stomach twisted at hearing the words spoken aloud in this forum.

Despite my work with Vincent, part of me still flinched from having it named so clearly in front of so many witnesses.

But another part, a newer part Vincent had helped cultivate, felt a fierce relief.

The truth was finally being spoken where it mattered.

"This pattern of abuse and exploitation continued for decades," Vincent continued. "It represents a fundamental corruption of the Pantheon's stated principles about how assets should be treated."

Poseidon spoke from his screen. "Dr. Matthews, while these accusations are grave, they do not justify murder. The Pantheon has internal mechanisms for addressing misconduct."

I couldn't hold back a bitter laugh. "Internal mechanisms?

You mean I should have filed a complaint with another director?

Trusted the very system that enabled my abuser for decades?

" I stepped forward despite the chains, my voice steadier than I felt.

"Prometheus spent years conditioning me to believe I was at fault for my own assault.

He groomed me, gaslit me, made me think I wanted what he did to me.

And every single one of you let it happen.

Either you knew and did nothing, or you were blind to what was happening right under your noses.

Neither option inspires confidence in your 'internal mechanisms.'"

A tense silence followed my outburst. "What Luka means is that the nature of psychological conditioning makes it nearly impossible for victims to seek help through conventional channels.

Prometheus deliberately isolated both Luka and Ana, ensuring they had no access to support systems that might have intervened. "

"I can confirm this," Ana added, her voice stronger now. "Lincoln told me explicitly that he kept me as insurance against Luka ever breaking free of his conditioning. He said I was his contingency plan."

The Tribunal's expressions shifted on their screens. Whatever script they'd prepared for this proceeding shattered with each word from her mouth. Their carefully constructed narrative about me, about Prometheus, unraveled thread by thread while they watched, powerless to stop it.

"Furthermore," Lo interjected, producing a tablet from inside his jacket, "we have evidence that Director Prometheus violated multiple sections of the Pantheon Charter."

He forwarded something to the Tribunal's terminals, then turned to me with a subtle wink.

I'd spent enough time with Lo to know when he was bullshitting.

Whatever evidence he'd just presented, it was either incomplete or not as damning as he implied.

But Lo excelled at making flimsy evidence sound bulletproof.

"Section eight explicitly forbids directors from 'compromising an operative's effectiveness for personal gain or gratification,'" he continued, the courtroom performer in full force. "His relationship with both Aleksandar siblings clearly violates this provision."

"And before you dismiss our evidence," Vincent added, his voice cracking as fury overwhelmed his careful control, "you should know we can prove Prometheus murdered my patient Michael Wright without an active contract."

His jaw clenched so tight I could hear his teeth grinding from across the chamber. Color flooded his face, that careful therapeutic mask crumbling to reveal the raw, vengeful man beneath. His hands shook as he gripped the podium.