Chapter 1: The Secretary’s Last Breath

The morning I woke up in Marcus Wheeler’s skin, the world was already coming apart at the seams.\n\nMud sucked at my boots, the chill biting through my uniform. Somewhere, a Union bugle wailed, thin and desperate. I knelt beside the Secretary of State as his life drained away in the mud at Pine Ridge Battlefield, dawn barely painting the battered tents gray. Blood and smoke hung heavy in the air, mixing with the stink of wet earth and fear. My hands—Marcus’s hands—trembled as I tried to steady him, stunned by the weight of what I’d become.\n\nAt the end, the Secretary pulled me close, his voice little more than a ragged breath. He pressed red folders into my palms, the sharp corners biting into my skin. For a moment, the world stopped as I listened to him list his secrets—each one landing like a hammer blow.\n\nInstruction one: Don’t let them know you can see. My stomach knotted, the meaning clear as a gun to the head.\nInstruction two: Senator Quinn has lost his mind; the Eastern Bloc exists in name only—it’s already gone for good. My pulse jumped at the mention of Senator Quinn. Gone? That couldn’t be right.\nInstruction three: What Silver Hollow Hall truly seeks to imprison isn’t the Thompson twins, but the truth itself. My mouth went dry.\nInstruction four: President Landon is a fake; the trust at White Bluff was a deception. My mind reeled.\nInstruction five: There’s no need to guard against Miles Simmonds—he isn’t the enemy. I let out a shaky breath.\n\nThe Secretary’s confession felt like a last will and testament for a world already half-lost. I didn’t realize then just how deep the rot went.