The silence before the meeting began was thick—not uncomfortable, but deliberate. A calculated pause. Then, without warning, the center of the table lit up.
A hollow sphere of light hovered in the air—the planet. It rotated slowly, its surface marked with data points, flickering indicators of key locations, and pulsing clusters of unknown significance. A visual representation of the world's new reality.
Elias felt the weight of the moment. He and the eleven others had been brought here for a reason, but what? To spectate? To be studied? Judged?
The first voice broke the silence.
"We have lost control."
A man at the far end of the table, old but unshaken, leaned forward. His fingers steepled beneath his chin, his tone precise. "We cannot regulate what we cannot see. The Ikona are intangible, unrestricted, and—by all accounts—evolving beyond our oversight. The world is aware of their existence now. That is the crisis."
