A few days before the summit
The room was dim. Long table. Empty chairs lining both sides. But not for long.
The doors opened, slow and heavy, as members of the supernatural council filed in one by one. Rain echoed faintly outside—softer this time, like it was listening. Inside, the air was tense.
Fowler sat at the far end of the table. Human. Still in his patched-up military coat. A scar across his lip that hadn't been there a month ago. He looked tired, but alert. Beside him sat Vulpina, arms crossed, gaze sharp. Across from her was Vladimir. Boris beside him. Greta came last. She didn't speak. Didn't sit. She just leaned against the wall near the far window. Her eyes… distant.
No one asked how she was.
Everyone already knew.
The silence stretched. Until finally—
"I suppose this is where we decide what to do," Fowler said, voice low.
Vulpina nodded. "The world already knows something happened. They know about vampires. Werewolves. Witches. Kitsunes."
