The morning sun over Duskhaven City held a crystalline, almost surreal clarity, as if the heavens themselves were bracing for the transition of power. After a silent, tension-filled breakfast, Sienna Flynn gripped the steering wheel of the white Mercedes with white-knuckled intensity, navigating the family toward the epicenter of the world’s attention.
The perimeter of the Royal Victoria Hotel was a sea of humanity. Thousands had gathered, held back by reinforced steel barricades and a phalanx of International United Nations security details. These guards, clad in ceremonial scarlet tunics with gold braiding, stood in rigid, silent double rows, their presence radiating an indisputable martial chill.
The plaza had been transformed into a sprawling gallery of automotive excess. Ferraris, R
