THE COUNCIL

In a chamber that exists beyond the margins of time — where silence carries the weight of millennia and every word costs something vast — three entities gather. They hold no names that human language can contain. Only titles they have always carried: The Keeper, who holds the complete record of what was; The Mouth, who speaks what cannot remain unsaid; The Still One, who understands when to stop speaking entirely.

The Council does not debate. They do not deliberate. They have, in some sense, already decided. They convene only to recite the verdict, admit any final evidence, and close the file. Humanity is not present for its own hearing. It never is. The only question left is whether the answer this time will be any different from the last.