It happened in that weird, heavy silence that fills crowded rooms — the kind that pretends to be respectful but feels tense instead of calm. Nyra sensed something had snapped before her brain fully caught up. The sound alone told her: whatever gave way, it was important, and there was no going back. Fabric never lets go that way unless it’s been hurting from the inside for a while.
The grand hall gleamed under chandeliers frozen like constellations, crystals scattering brilliant light across marble that looked more like polished glass than stone. Nobles clustered in groups, their conversations practiced and careful, laughter just loud enough to be noticed but never to disrupt. Every gesture seemed calculated, and every glance carried a hint of judgment or invitation. Nothing happened by a
