The Ancient Council met in places that predated human civilization. This one existed beneath Manhattan bedrock, carved from stone that remembered when continents had different names.
The chamber smelled like minerals and time itself. Water dripped somewhere in darkness beyond the torches. Each drop echoed against stone walls that had witnessed the rise and fall of species humanity had never documented.
Precision meant observing details. The twelve seats arranged in perfect circle. Each one occupied by something that wore physical form the way I wore tactical gear—necessary but not natural.
