Celine
The morning feels heavy, as though the weight of yesterday’s events is still pressing down on me. I wake alone, my body humming with an odd sensation I can’t quite place. It’s like a lingering echo from the chaos of my shifting, a blend of soreness and something deeper, something unsettled.
After showering and dressing, I step into the corridor. The palace feels unusually quiet, the distant sounds of activity muted, as if even the building itself is holding its breath. A guard greets me immediately, his expression unreadable.
“Your Majesty, King Sebastian is this way,” he says with a small bow, turning to guide me.
I hesitate for a moment. Your Majesty. The title feels foreign, like it belongs to someone else. I’m not a queen, not yet. I shrug it off and follow him, my steps ech
