The room leaned forward.
Sharath unveiled project after project: filtration towers with rune-fed charcoal beds; paved stone roads lined with drainage glyphs; borewells that tapped deep, clean aquifers.
He explained each component. How it worked. Why it was affordable. How the poorest village could sustain it.
Elina, seated at his right, watched him—saw the exhaustion behind his eyes, the fire in his voice.
"Disease is not fate," he said, holding up a vial of fetid water. "Darkness is not natural. We have defeated them in theory. Now, we do it in stone and spirit."