The Summit Begins

The Grand Chamber of Valletta’s historic citadel was filled with whispers. Marble columns rose like sentinels, and the air smelled of old stone and new tension. Delegates from twelve countries sat in silence, their faces lit by the soft glow of chandeliers. Lucia stood behind the podium, her fingers resting on the edge like a pianist before the first note.

Bianca adjusted the microphone.

— You’re live in thirty seconds. — she whispered.

Lucia nodded, her heart steady. She wore no jewelry, no makeup beyond a neutral tone. Her power was in her presence — and everyone in the room felt it.

Amaro stood at the back, arms crossed, eyes scanning for threats.

Dario sat near the center, his expression unreadable. He had received the invitation. He had accepted. And now, he watched.

Lucia stepped forward.

— Good evening. — she began, her voice clear, calm. — I am not here to lead you. I am here to listen, to build, and to protect what we create together.

The room remained silent.

— We come from