Cael found them in two days.
Idris Mael's parents lived in the northern corridor — not wealthy, not connected to Crone's world beyond the distant cousin relationship that had made their son's death useful to a desperate legal team. A small house. A father who worked in agricultural logistics. A mother who taught at the community school.
I called before I visited. I did not want to arrive unannounced at the home of people whose son's death had just been dragged into a courtroom three years after they'd buried him.
His mother answered.
"Dr. Voss Ashveil," she said. Her voice was careful. Not hostile — careful.
"Mrs. Mael," I said. "I wanted to call before anything else. I understand the complaint that was filed used your son's name without your involvement, and I wanted you to hear from
