The ballroom glittered like a forbidden jewel, every surface alive with dangerous enchantment. Crystal chandeliers dripped cascades of light across the polished marble floor, while enchanted candles floated lazily overhead, their flames pulsing in time with the sensual rhythm of violins and flutes. Guests swirled in elaborate gowns and ornate masks, laughter rising like smoke, voices blending into a heady haze of music and desire. It was a masquerade that felt more like a seduction than a celebration—dazzling, overwhelming, and thick with unspoken hunger.
Lyra was radiant, her emerald-feathered mask catching every spark of light as she twirled across the floor. “Isn’t it perfect?” she cried, laughter ringing bright and pure. “The music, the dancing, the magic—it’s everything Father pro
