The Grand Guild Hall was packed. Every seat was filled. People stood shoulder-to-shoulder in the aisles, a sea of anxious faces.
Anya stood at the front, her hands clasped tightly. The collaborative bowl sat on the table before her. It was a swirl of colors and textures, a physical piece of her network.
This is it. Everything comes down to this.
Beside her, Gareth stood stiffly. He stared straight ahead, his face a mask. She had no idea what he would say.
The head arbiter stood. The room fell silent.
"The Guild will now hear final statements," she announced. "Then we vote. Anya, you may begin."
---
Anya took a deep breath. She picked up the bowl. It felt warm and solid in her hands.
She turned to face the crowd. Hundreds of eyes watched her.
"I don't have data," she began. Her voice was clear, but her heart hammered against her ribs. "I don't have projections or efficiency charts."
She held the bowl high, so everyone could see.
"I have this. Fifty-two workshops made this possible. Potters, smiths, weavers, dyers. Not one. Not a central authority. All of us, working together."
She looked at the faces in the crowd. She saw Mira, Leo, Kai. She saw the young weavers and the old stonemasons.
"Vote for Model A if you want that," she said. "Vote for Model C if you want that *and* structure. But please..."
Her voice softened, but it carried through the hall.
"...don't vote for Model B. Don't choose power over people."
She sat down. The speech was short. It was from the heart.
It's all I have left to give.
---
A smattering of applause followed her. It was warm, but not overwhelming. People were still thinking.
Then it was Gareth's turn.
He stood. Everyone leaned forward. They expected charts. They expected cold, hard logic.
He had nothing in his hands.
"I was wrong."
The three words dropped into the silent hall like stones. A wave of gasps swept through the room.
Anya stared at him. What is he doing?
"Not about everything," Gareth continued. His voice was raw, stripped of its usual polish. "We do need to be strong. We need structure. But Bren was right. Anya was right."
He looked directly at her across the space between them.
"Strength without foundation is just... a really tall fall."
The room was utterly still. You could hear a pin drop.
"I'm voting for C. Synthesis." He extended a hand toward her. "Your heart, my structure. If you'll have me."
---
Chaos erupted.
The hall exploded with sound. Shouts of surprise. Cries of agreement. Angry protests from his staunchest supporters.
Anya sat frozen. Her mind raced.
Is this a trick? A manipulation?
She looked at his face. The mask was gone. She saw the same fear she felt. The same hope. The same exhaustion.
She saw the young man from the photograph, staring back at her.
She could still push for Model A. She could reject him. She might even win.
But winning alone felt like losing.
She stood up.
The noise began to die down. Every eye was on her. The moment balanced on a knife's edge.
She walked across the floor. The distance felt like a mile.
She stopped in front of Gareth. She looked at his extended hand. Then she looked into his eyes.
She took his hand. His grip was firm, but not crushing.
"Then let's build it together," she said.
---
The applause was thunderous. It wasn't for one of them. It was for both of them. It was for the Guild.
The arbiter had to bang her gavel repeatedly to restore order.
"The vote will now commence!" she shouted over the din. "All in favor of Model A, the Foundational Model?"
Hands went up. Anya saw her core supporters. The potters, the weavers. Leo gave her a proud nod.
"Twenty-three votes!"
"All in favor of Model B, the Consolidation Model?"
A smaller, stubborn cluster of hands. Mostly senior artificers and those who feared change the most.
"Eight votes!"
A murmur ran through the crowd. It was already over.
"All in favor of Model C, the Synthesis?"
A forest of hands rose. It was nearly the entire hall. The warm golds and the cool blues, mixed together into something new.
"Seventy-one votes!"
The Guild had chosen. Not one side over the other. But a new path. A third way.
Foundation and structure. Together.
---
The formalities ended quickly. The hall dissolved into a chaotic mix of celebration, conversation, and relief.
Anya found herself surrounded. People were clapping her on the back, shaking her hand. They were already asking questions about what came next.
Through the crowd, she saw Gareth. He was surrounded by his own people, no doubt answering the same questions.
Their eyes met across the room. He gave her a small, hesitant nod.
She nodded back.
It wasn't friendship. It wasn't even trust, not yet.
It was an agreement. A contract to build something new.
Leo appeared at her side, a wide grin on his face. "You did it," he said.
"We did it," she corrected him. "All of us."
She looked out at the mingling crowd. The work was just beginning. They had to merge two philosophies. They had to build a system that was both strong and kind.
It would be messy. It would be hard.
But for the first time, it felt possible.