The air in the Oval Office, usually charged with the weight of political history, now crackled with something far more ancient and volatile. Aria Montenegro-Blackwood stood before the Resolute Desk, not as a supplicant, but as a force of nature. She had forgone diplomatic pleasantries the moment she crossed the threshold. The downpour outside mirrored the storm in her eyes, her silver-white hair seeming to gather the room's light and reflect it back, colder and sharper.
President Jonathan Ellis remained seated, a calculated display of earthly authority, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. Flanking him were his Chief of Staff and the National Security Advisor, Elizabeth Shaw. They were the human bulwark against the supernatural tide standing before them.
