POV: Prince Aldric Voss

The Royal Study, a cavernous space usually reserved for hushed policy debates, felt stiflingly small. Aldric stood before his father’s personal terminal, a knot of dread tightening in his stomach. The King was sequestered, a convenient excuse for Garrett to take full control of the Citadel’s security. That meant Aldric had to act fast, and subtly.

Kira Thorne’s words echoed in his mind: “If these jamming frequencies are being generated from within, they'll leave a footprint.” And his father’s secret communications with the surface, now eerily silent, were the key.

He slid his personal access card into the terminal slot. It whirred to life, displaying a complex network of internal comm-channels and external frequency bands, all monitored by the Royal Guard. Garrett's eyes, he knew, would be watching every digital flicker.

“Prince Aldric,” a familiar, clipped voice broke the silence. Garrett stood in the doorway, framed by two imposing Sky Guard soldiers. His older brother’s uniform was immaculate, his posture rigid. “I was wondering when you’d decide to play at being a statesman. Father is unwell. Perhaps you should consider rest.”

Aldric turned slowly, keeping his expression neutral. “Just reviewing the latest reports on the tether crisis. Chief Thorne’s concerns are… significant.” He gestured to the terminal. “I’m looking into the possibility of external interference with our maintenance systems.”

Garrett scoffed. “Paranoia, little brother. It’s simple material fatigue, exacerbated by the recent atmospheric shifts. Best to leave engineering to the engineers, and statecraft to those who understand its gravity.” His gaze swept over the terminal, lingering for a fraction of a second on the external comms interface. “And speaking of gravity, I’ve taken the liberty of tightening security around all external communication. Loose chatter only invites trouble.”

“Indeed,” Aldric replied, his heart thudding. Garrett knew. He wasn’t just tightening security; he was actively suppressing whatever his father had been doing. “One can’t be too careful in these uncertain times.”

He managed to pull up a sub-directory, ostensibly for "maintenance schedules," but in reality, a backdoor his father had shown him, a relic of an older, more trusting system. It was here that King Voss had stored his hidden logs.

Garrett stepped further into the room. “Have you seen the latest from Maven Rix’s faction? They’re openly calling for a ‘Descent.’ The audacity. He’s pushing the people to madness.”

“Desperation can do that, brother,” Aldric said, clicking through the logs. He found it. A hidden folder, labeled simply: ‘GHOSTS.’

He initiated a download, slow and agonizingly public. He could practically feel Garrett’s eyes burning into his back. If Garrett decided to look closely at the download manifest, he would see the unusual file size, the unapproved access. He had to be quick.

“Madness and sedition,” Garrett corrected, his voice hardening. “And it will be met with force, if necessary. The integrity of Aeridor will not be compromised by rabble-rousers.”

“What about the integrity of our own kingdom, Garrett?” Aldric challenged, pushing his luck. “Father has always preached the sanctity of truth. Yet, there are whispers, concerns… about what we truly fled from. About what might still exist below.”

Garrett’s jaw tightened. "The truth, Aldric, is that our ancestors sacrificed everything to lift us to the safety of the clouds. To speak of returning is to dishonor their memory, to invite the very destruction they sought to escape. Father understands this. He always has."

Always has? Aldric thought, a bitter taste in his mouth. Or always did, until he started receiving those signals?

The download neared completion. Aldric clicked on a new comm-link, a frequency his father had quietly shown him years ago, used only for critical, emergency messages to specific, trusted agents of the Sky Guard. A frequency that should be immune to internal jamming.

"I have secured critical data regarding the tether situation, and preliminary contact has been made with a potential external party. I am attempting to send a secure burst now," Aldric typed rapidly, knowing that every keystroke was potentially monitored.

"And now, Aldric, if you’ll excuse me, I have more pressing matters to attend to than your philosophical musings." Garrett’s voice was clipped, his patience wearing thin. He was moving closer.

Aldric ignored him, hitting ‘transmit.’ A small, green light on the terminal pulsed, indicating the burst had been sent. For a fleeting moment, he felt a surge of triumph.

Then, the green light turned amber. The signal faded. And a new, red error message flashed: 'Transmission Blocked. Internal Frequency Overload.'

Aldric stared at it, a cold dread washing over him. It wasn't just jammed. It was overloaded. A torrent of high-frequency static, originating from within Aeridor, designed to utterly blanket that specific channel. Garrett hadn't just tightened security. He had isolated them. Completely.

"What was that, brother?" Garrett asked, now standing directly behind him, his voice dangerously soft. Aldric could feel the cold weight of his presence. "Another philosophical musing you were attempting to transmit to the 'world below'?"

Aldric turned, his face a mask of carefully constructed calm. "Just a diagnostic report for Chief Thorne. The system is clearly under strain."

Garrett’s eyes narrowed, searching Aldric’s face for any sign of deception. "Indeed. It seems everything is under strain these days." He reached out, his finger hovering over a control panel. "Perhaps a full system lock-down is in order. For the good of the kingdom, of course."

Aldric’s heart pounded. He had made contact with his father's secrets, attempted to reach out, and now he was trapped. He knew, with chilling certainty, that Garrett wasn't just interested in maintaining their 'sacred isolation.' He was enforcing it. And he was willing to use any means necessary, even to the point of turning Aeridor into a silent, blind prisoner in the sky. The family conflict had escalated into a desperate struggle for control, and a hidden agenda was now laid bare. The ghosts in the machine were not just memories, but a living, breathing threat.