Darkness covered the city long before midnight.
Far above the capital, lights still burned inside the Presidential Estate.
Far below it...another meeting had already begun.
No one knew where the room existed.
No blueprints contained it.
No satellite had ever photographed it.
It wasn't hidden because of walls.
It was hidden because almost nobody knew it existed.
Five figures sat around a circular table.
Their faces remained concealed beneath shadow . No names were spoken.
No titles exchanged. Only silence.
A sixth chair stood empty.
Not because someone was late.
Because someone had failed.
A thin folder rested in the middle of the table.
Across its cover were two words.
SEBASTIAN RAVENSCROFT.
One gloved hand opened it. Inside were photographs. The election rallies. The prison visit. The underground tunnel beneath Parliament. The abandoned bank.
Chairman Elias. The recovered ledger.
The Foundation's symbol. Page after page.
