The chamber for the Concord session had no windows and a very old table polished by hands that remembered harder centuries. No cameras. No streaming. Envoys wore field blacks instead of show colors. This wasn't a treaty ceremony; this was a safety meeting that could change the shape of Earth's sky.
Lyra opened with schedule and promise. Three pylons, two coastal, one mountain. First in forty-eight hours if weather allowed. Seven species would supply crews in rotation but Earth would own the anchors. No binding of mythical beasts. No cataloging people by "potential." Every rule we had fought over in drafts now sat like clean lines on paper. Rose wasn't here, but her legal shape was. Queen Lyralei and King Marcus didn't speak until it mattered. When they nodded, the room believed them.
