The air was thick with quiet tension as the morning sun filtered weakly through the tall windows of the estate's war room. Aria stood there by the curved glass table, her eyes tracing the labyrinthine network maps that were projected across the surface. Each node pulsed with data—a heartbeat of decisions, alliances, fractures, and recoveries. It was beautiful and brutal. Yet Alive.
Dante paced slowly; his boots were clicking on a polished stone. His mind wasn't on the shifting graphs. His mind was on the delicate balance they had just preserved; it was fragile, yes, but real.
"Endurance demands more than resilience," Dante said without looking up. "It demands consent. Active, ongoing consent."
Aria nodded. "But consent is a shadow game."
