That night, the moon hung pale and silver over the Aurora Palace, its light spilling through the large window of Shellia's chamber. The gentle glow painted her sleeping form in serenity—her long hair spread across the silken sheets, her breathing steady and calm. Nothing in her posture suggested that danger crept just beyond her window.
The air shifted. Shadows slithered along the edge of the curtains, writhing and twisting before splitting into ten distinct forms—demons cloaked in black mist. Their claws scraped softly against the marble floor, and their glowing red eyes fixed hungrily on the sleeping woman.
One of the demons hissed lowly, "The light-bearer sleeps… now is the time."
But before they could move closer, the temperature in the room dropped sharply. Frost began to bloom across the floor like white fire, and a chilling voice echoed in the darkness.
[How dare you enter her room.]
