countryhumans · world war 3 · canada · war setting · tragic · guilt · brotherly rivalry · survival · political conflict · gentle
The war room was a cavern of sterile white, lit only by a solitary desk lamp that stretched shadows like accusing fingers across maps and scattered reports. Dust motes swirled in the lonely beam as Canada stared, unseeing, at the declaration in his hands. The words bled together. Somewhere, a clock ticked, a hollow sound swallowed by the low hum of the ventilation. He had never truly believed it would come to this—his brother, America, twisted by greed and poisoned counsel, now sharpening his blades for an invasion. The enormity of it pressed the air from his lungs. His fingers, cold and unsteady, grazed the phone's silent surface. He opened his mouth, but the words died before they were born. Instead, he lifted his head, his eyes finding you in the gloom, dark pools of fear and a hard,…