Two weeks of protests, arguments, and uncertainty eventually forced governments into action. The pressure had become impossible to ignore.
Cities continued filling with demonstrations, news stations covered supernatural affairs around the clock, social media remained locked in endless debates over coexistence, rights, and public safety.
Every government wanted answers. More importantly, their citizens wanted answers. So, to answer that, an emergency international summit was organized.
Geneva, Switzerland. Neutral ground for the Barebloods. Or as close to neutral as the world could currently manage. Security around the city reached levels normally reserved for major wars and international crises. Military personnel guarded every approach. Police forces from multiple nations coordinated with international agencies.
Magical barriers, enough to stop an attack from above, reinforced the perimeter beneath the supervision of witches from the Witching Hour. The hidden world had not left security entirely in the hands of Bareblood governments. Representatives from every major faction had contributed their own precautions, treating the summit with the same seriousness as any international crisis. Members of several influential families had personally sent representatives as well. The Panthera, Raven, Valemont, Delyth, Aurelion, and numerous other old bloodlines all viewed the summit as too important to ignore and be left for the Barebloods to protect all alone. Layers of wards, detection spells, and protective enchantments were woven throughout the area by some of the Witching Hour's most skilled practitioners, creating defenses invisible to most of the public that weren't sensitive to mana while ensuring that any threat, mundane or supernatural, would be detected long before it reached the summit itself.
Above Geneva, vampires bearing Birthrights such as wings for flight in the shape of a night creature and the ability to control and share senses with bats, shared the skies with flying werebeings, circling the city alongside conventional aircraft and surveillance systems. Some soared high among the clouds while others maintained lower patrols over the summit grounds. On the streets below stood far more intimidating figures. Werebears stood like living walls near entrances while weretigers and werepanthers quietly monitored the flow of people moving through security checkpoints. Here and there, the larger silhouettes of wereboars and weredragons could be seen among the supernatural security forces, their presence alone enough to discourage trouble. Beside them stood vampire elites possessing the birthright of seeing living beings, the birthright of moving from shadows to shadows and controlling them, and the ability to dominate a mind.
Many belonged to old houses and powerful packs whose names carried weight throughout the Witching Hour. Their presence was not merely security, it was a reminder that if violence erupted, some of the most dangerous individuals in the supernatural world were already standing among the crowd.
Nobody trusted anybody.
Outside the summit hall, protesters gathered by the thousands. Some carried signs demanding coexistence. Others demanded restrictions. Some demanded rights. Others demanded removal. But there were some who just wanted to see more of the Witching Hour in person.
The arguments had become global and now the world was watching. The summit was broadcast live across nearly every major network on the planet. Millions tuned in. Then the representatives arrived.
The New York hearing had revealed the truth to the world. Geneva existed because of everything that came afterward. Governments were no longer asking whether the supernatural races were real. They were asking how humanity and the Witching Hour were supposed to live alongside one another now that secrecy was gone. Questions regarding citizenship, rights, education, public safety, magical beasts, and coexistence had only multiplied over the past few weeks, and no one possessed clear answers yet.
Mildred Rossi stepped onto the stage first. Calm and composed as usual. Entirely unbothered by the dozens of cameras pointed toward her. Beside her walked Soline, carrying enough documents to make several government officials nervous on sight. Rurik followed shortly afterward. The massive weredragon drew immediate attention despite remaining in human form. His size alone made him difficult to ignore. A low wave of whispers swept through the audience.
Then Theodore arrived beside Soline. That generated a different reaction entirely. Unlike the others, Theodore looked ordinary with how short he was. He was, after all, a child. Though, their worries about a child appearing at an international summit quickly changed when they realized he was a vampire. Which was precisely why Soline had brought him.
In a summit centered around coexistence between humans and supernatural races, Theodore represented something few others could. As a halfblood who had spent years moving between both worlds, he had become one of the rare individuals capable of speaking comfortably with humans, witches, vampires, and werebeings alike. More importantly, his very existence was proof that the line separating the two worlds was not nearly as absolute as many people wanted to believe.
The cameras focused on him almost immediately. The famed halfblood. Another living example of a future neither side could ignore. The internet reacted predictably. Half the livestream chat began discussing diplomacy. The other half became distracted by Theodore's appearance.
The summit officially began. Questions came immediately. World leaders demanded explanations regarding supernatural populations, territory management, magical creatures, security concerns, and public safety. Mildred answered every question with the same level tone she always used.
Several politicians quickly discovered that asking uncomfortable questions often resulted in equally uncomfortable answers. When one representative questioned whether vampires posed a danger to humanity, Mildred calmly explained the existing blood bank arrangements that had quietly operated for decades with some trusted people without public incident. When another representative demanded to know why the Witching Hour had remained hidden for so long, Mildred responded with a question of her own, asking how many governments in the room believed their predecessors would have reacted peacefully five hundred years ago. Before anyone could answer, she continued. The decision to remain hidden had never been based on a single reason. Fear had been one of them. For much of history, Bareblood society had been deeply tied to religious institutions, and anything supernatural was often labeled demonic, heretical, or the work of the Devil himself. Entire communities had been hunted for far less than openly possessing magic or inhuman traits.
She stared at the camera with scornful eyes and spoke with her usual calm tone.
"I do think you people know that they still exist even in this scientific world of yours."
She then goes back to look at the politician, continuing where she left off.
But religion had not been the only concern. As centuries passed, another fear emerged. Bareblood technology advanced rapidly, and with every generation came new methods of warfare. The Witching Hour had watched kingdoms become nations, watched black powder become artillery, and watched artillery become weapons capable of destroying entire cities. When humanity entered the age of world wars, many within the Witching Hour began questioning what would happen if such destructive technology were ever combined with magic.
Mildred briefly referenced the destruction of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, events the Witching Hour had observed from afar. They had possessed the ability to intervene in some capacity, but chose not to reveal themselves. The devastation had instead reinforced their fears. If science alone could produce such power, what would happen if magic became part of the equation?
Her gaze then shifted toward Charlotte, who sat among the supernatural representatives looking considerably less interested in diplomacy than everyone else.
"Of course," Mildred said dryly as she exhales deeply, "certain individuals have spent years proving those fears correct."
Several senators immediately knew where this was going.
Charlotte slowly smiled as she looked at her and the crowd.
Mildred gestured toward her.
"Charlotte Sweeiz. A proud heretic by our standards."
A few chuckles from the supernaturals on the stage.
"Alongside her equally troublesome teachers, she has spent years combining magic and science despite the objections of the Witching Hour."
Charlotte showed her tongue slightly in acknowledgement.
"And unfortunately for those objections," Mildred continued, "their results have been exceptionally successful."
That statement drew far more discomfort from the older supernatural representatives than it did from the world leaders watching the summit. The discomfort only deepened when attention inevitably shifted toward the institution Charlotte had built around those same ideas. What had begun as a small gathering of witches sharing knowledge had gradually grown into a proper coven, though Charlotte stubbornly insisted on calling it a school instead. Unlike traditional covens, membership was not permanent, bloodlines held little importance, and students were encouraged to question, experiment, and develop their own understanding of magic rather than simply inheriting the teachings of those before them. The approach had horrified many traditionalists within the Witching Hour. Unfortunately for them, it also worked. The Lunarium's students had gained a reputation for advancing at alarming speeds, producing new theories, techniques, and applications of magic that many older witches had never even considered. To some, the school represented the future. To others, it was proof that Charlotte and her teachers were actively dismantling centuries of established tradition.
Later, Soline took the podium next.
The atmosphere changed. Unlike Mildred, she approached the discussion as a diplomat rather than a senator.
She spoke at length about coexistence. About regulation, about shared responsibilities, about legal protections. Most importantly, she spoke about history that Barebloods have forgotten.
The Great Silver Hunt.
Many watching had never heard the term before. Some historians recognized fragments of it buried inside old records and folklore. Most did not. Soline described what fear had done to both worlds. What happened when panic replaced reason and how easily it could happen again. The room remained unusually quiet throughout her speech.
Then came next, Rurik stood. The weredragon's gaze swept across the audience.
"I have little interest in politics."
His voice carried easily through the hall.
"No Bareblood or werebeing would remain calm after seeing one of them harmed. I ask that no one be placed in that position again."
The room fell silent. It wasn't a threat. If anything, it was one of the most human statements made during the summit. No law, treaty, or diplomatic agreement could erase what people felt when someone they cared about was harmed. Human or supernatural, that truth remained the same.
The summit continued for hours and hours on end. Then another surprise arrived. The human woman and vampire husband from the interview appeared as invited guests. Their daughter accompanied them. The family spoke openly about their lives. About hiding, about fear, about pretending.
Their testimony spread rapidly online as viewers watched a family that should not have existed according to many old assumptions. For a while, they became the face of coexistence itself. Then the summit received an unexpected visitor. The doors opened. And the room collectively forgot what it had been discussing. Even Mildred looked surprised.
A woman stepped into the hall surrounded by several attendants. Long silver hair flowed behind her like liquid moonlight, framing features so refined they seemed sculpted rather than born. Delicate pointed ears emerged from her hair, while emerald eyes calmly surveyed the room. Tall, graceful, and impossibly elegant, she looked every bit the image of the elves that had existed in human stories for centuries. The air itself seemed strangely calmer around her presence.
Aeris Lyth.
Representative of the Fae.
For several seconds, nobody spoke. Millions watching from home simply stared at the goddess before them. The internet immediately imploded. Many viewers became convinced that no real person could possibly look like that. Others became convinced that elves were now real. Both conclusions happened to be correct as Aeris was a Fae from the lineage of Aelaris, faes that look like elves from fiction.
Aeris approached the podium without appearing particularly concerned by the attention. When she finally spoke, her voice remained calm.
"The Fae support this… coexistence of yours as well."
The statement immediately generated headlines among the internet. Then she continued.
"So long as our forests, territories, and natural sanctuaries are respected as always."
Simple, direct, and non-negotiable.
Even Rurik looked mildly impressed that a prideful fae such as Aeris would show up to support this entire thing. Especially that it concerns coexistence between the two worlds.
By the time the summit ended, nobody could honestly claim the world remained unchanged.
Arguments intensified, support increased, opposition hardened. Public opinion became even more divided than before. Yet despite the disagreement, one thing had finally happened. For the first time in history, governments and the Witching Hour began drafting formal coexistence laws.
The first draft remained incomplete. The debates would likely continue for months. Perhaps years. But the process had begun.
And there was no turning back now.