Cierra:
The council chamber was colder than I remembered. Cold in the way marble gets when magic lingers in the air — old, judgmental, eternal. The light that poured through the stained glass cast fractured patterns across the floor, bleeding color into every robe and every whisper.
The sound of it all pressed on me — the shuffling of robes, the scrape of chairs, the low hum of anticipation that lived somewhere between fear and curiosity. No one attended a council hearing without expecting a little drama.
And there she was.
Alyssa stood in the center like she owned the air itself. Her gown shimmered silver, flawless, and even the chains at her wrists looked like jewelry when they caught the light. She bowed her head only slightly, just enough to appear respectful — the illusion of humi
