Geneva – Global Summit Hall
Midday. The Air Heavy.
The room felt too big for peace.
The broken-ring table at the center was filled now—humans on one side, supernatural leaders on the other. Spotlights buzzed overhead, cameras blinked red from above, and outside, the skies darkened like a storm was watching from a distance.
On the human side, the weight of world governments sat in tailored suits and quiet pride. But beneath their diplomatic stares were nerves. Fear. The kind that didn't shake—just sat still and waited for something to go wrong.
On the other side, the supernatural leaders weren't dressed to impress. They were presence. Living reminders that the world wasn't theirs alone anymore.
The room was silent.
Until Fowler stepped forward.
He didn't bow to either side. Just stood at the middle of the ring, jacket rough, boots heavy.
"Let's start."
His voice wasn't loud, but it cut clean.
