The Academy's grand conference hall—normally reserved for ceremonies and diplomatic functions—had been converted into war room befitting the crisis. The circular chamber's walls displayed holographic projections of founding family genealogies, historical documentation, and three corpses' forensic data. At the center stood a woman whose mere presence made the air feel heavier, hotter, more dangerous.
Riya Descartes didn't walk into rooms—she commanded them through atmospheric pressure alone.
The Fire Empress stood at the conference table's head, her black hair swept back in severe style that emphasized aristocratic geometry of her face, her blue eyes holding that distinctive Ausra coldness that had made her legendary across multiple continents. She wore formal Descartes Guild attire—black suit with no ornamentation because she didn't need it. Her SS+ rank presence alone created gravitational field that made breathing feel like negotiation with the atmosphere.
