Morning unfolds over the Blood Moon Castle like a slow breath — soft, golden light spilling through latticed windows, kissing the marble floors and turning the dust in the air into drifting specks of amber.
In the upper wing, beneath a canopy of silver-stitched velvet, Mira opens her eyes. Her lashes part languidly, revealing eyes that gleam like pale sapphires in the dawn. For a moment, she lies still, watching the light crawl across the ceiling. Then, very slowly, her lips curve into a smile that is too serene to be innocent sweet, quiet, and carrying a promise beneath its softness.
She stretches, the silk sheets sighing around her as she rises. “Estella,” she calls, her tone calm yet commanding.
The door opens almost instantly. Estella, loyal and ever cautious, bows low. “My lady, yo
