Morning sunlight spilled across the marble corridors of Evermore's inner palace, its glow fractured by towering pillars carved with scenes of conquest. The air was heavy with incense from braziers placed at intervals, their smoke curling toward ceilings painted with murals of victories long past. Every detail screamed of a kingdom built on blood and unbending will.
Lucian's footsteps echoed, soft but steady, as he made his way through the corridors. His robe plain enough for a tutor, yet elegant in cut trailed with controlled precision. He adjusted the fall of the fabric once, not out of vanity but as a gesture of ritual, a steadying of nerves disguised as composure.
Two soldiers in full plate stood at the final archway, halberds crossed to block the entrance. Their helmets caught the light, faceless and forbidding. Lucian slowed, his expression unreadable, though his pulse thrummed against the silence like a restless drum.
