The grand hall pulsed with life, each beat a throb of splendor and danger. Gilded pillars stretched toward arched ceilings painted with celestial scenes—stars and dragons, old gods locked in eternal war. Golden chandeliers swayed above the gathered elite, casting fractured light over a feast too decadent to be mortal. Goblets clinked with aged bloodwine. Platters overflowed with roasted wyvern, honey-glazed firefruit, imported berries that only bloomed under moonlight.
But Rose sat still at her place of honor, untouched by the splendor.
She was a statue amid the living, her plate pristine, her goblet full. Her skin itched with the weight of too many eyes. Every breath she took felt stolen. This wasn’t a throne—it was a cage, polished and perfumed.
Her chair, raised slightly above the re
