The grand conference hall in the Kane Building was meant to inspire awe. Soaring ceilings, walls inlaid with obsidian and silver, it was a testament to the power and unity Alexander had once commanded. Tonight, it felt like a gilded tomb. The air was cold and still, heavy with the scent of fear, wolf, vampire, ozone, and the faint, sweet smell of witch's herbs. Every seat was filled. Werewolf elders in their finest leathers sat stiffly beside vampires who looked like carved ice. Witches in dark robes murmured in low tones, their hands clasped tightly. The few remaining human military liaisons looked pale and out of place, their uniforms a stark contrast to the supernatural assembly. At the very back, a small, isolated group of Awakened entities glowed with a soft, anxious light.
This wasn't a strategy session. It was a vigil. Or a jury.
