The sterile meeting room, once a place of tense silence, was now filled with the low hum of shared genius. Lyra, still reeling from the shock of meeting the infamous Elias Vance, found herself compelled by his directness and intense intellectual sincerity. The lingering threat to her research budget was a distant memory, replaced by a pure, unadulterated passion for her work. She had to show him. She had to explain.
"Follow me," she said, her voice a mix of awe and renewed purpose. She led him through the polished, almost surgical corridors of the Conclave's research wing. The walls were not solid steel, but shimmering membranes that pulsed with contained energy. Holographic screens flickered everywhere, displaying complex equations and cosmic charts. The air was cool and crisp, smelling faintly of ozone and crystallized starlight. Every aspect of the building was a testament to a civilization that had mastered the fusion of magic and technology.
