The violet sky over Auricle shimmers softly, lit by the twin suns climbing higher in Wisteria's cerulean dawn. From the highest balcony of the island palace, Queen Zareya breathes in the sweet dawn air, floral pheromones mingling with the subtle salt of the nearby sea. Her golden hair catches the pink light, tumbling behind embroidered folds of sheer, flowing fabric that kiss her long, elegant neck and curve around her voluptuous form. Even here, draped in opulence and power, the weight of her nature settles deep in her bones. She looks toward the courtyard below. The city pulses with life — the hum of preparations for the day's Festival of Harmony mingles with laughter, the clatter of footsteps, the swish of silk, and low, melodic conversations. But her attention holds on one figure amid the graceful chaos, Iris.
Tall, commanding, wrapped in tight leather that amplifies strength in every step — the Alpha Queen moves with a swift purpose. Her long brown hair streams behind her like a dark banner, and the piercing green of her eyes meets Zareya's gaze in silent recognition. Iris pauses by the royal guards, her heavy boots thudding rhythmically against stone as she barks sharp orders. Yet beneath her stern exterior is an undeniable magnetism, an unspoken connection that pulls Zareya's racing heart into a tumultuous dance.
Behind a crimson velvet curtain, another woman watches quietly—a slender figure, poised yet calculating. Alessandra's silver eyes gleam like shards of ice in the soft light, her white hair falling sleek over a form-hugging black gown with daring slits. Even here, in the shadow of the throne, the former Alpha's presence is a cold echo of old rivalries. The palace chambers bustle with attendants—maids adjusting gowns, scent-masters releasing delicate clouds of perfumes that blend with natural pheromones.
Zareya's closest confidante, Lyra, a gentle-eyed Omega with a nimble grace, approaches. "Your Majesty," Lyra says softly, kneeling briefly to brush Zareya's hand with reverence. "The council awaits." Zareya nods, swallowing the pang of anticipation. With a final glance toward the courtyard where Iris oversees drills, she smooths her dress and steps into the Hall of Counsel.
The hall gleams with crystalline pillars, catching the light like frozen stars, filling the space with an ethereal glow. Iris stands at the entrance, her presence commanding every gaze, her skin flushed and her hair still wet, indicating a rushed shower. Zareya's breath hitched, taking in the regal Alpha queen. Seeing the gorgeous Omega in front of her, Queen Iris inclines her head in respect "Good morning, Omega Queen," Iris says, her voice low but resolute. "Morning, Alpha," Zareya weaves a small smile, though the tension between them simmers beneath polished politeness. Iris moved to quell the distance between them and murmured, "I saw you watching me from the balcony." Zareya's cheeks flushed, "Ah, I was just watching the soldiers practice". Iris smirked and leaned forward a little, "Really? And here I thought you were watching me, Little Queen"
The council assembles around the grand table: senior Alphas and Omegas, their faces weathered but alert—Adara, a grizzled warrior with battle scars mapped across her arms; Selene, a silver-haired Omega seer whose gaze seems to pierce the veils of time; and Cassia, Iris's loyal confidante, always by her side like a shadow. "Reports from the border tribes are troubling," Adara growls, slamming a fist on the table. "They resist the new harvest laws. We must act swiftly." Zareya meets Iris's eyes; the unspoken question and answer pass between them like a pledge. The Alpha Queen's jaw tightens. "We will not allow rebellion to fester," Iris declares. "I lead the forces myself. No traitors will challenge Wisteria on my watch." The meeting progresses, the heavy matters of state threading beneath courtesies and subtle power moves. Yet all the while, the charged air between the two queens remains—a secret current neither dares fully acknowledge here. As the council adjourns, Iris lingers. "Your Grace," she says, voice roughened by suppressed emotion. "There is much we must discuss. Alone." Zareya's pulse quickens. "Lead the way." They step into the moonlit gardens, where the scent of night blooms and restless pheromones weave through jasmine-scented air. Under the shadow of ancient trees, the world tightens around them. "Iris," Zareya whispers, hand brushing against fate itself, "do you feel it too? The bond between us?" Her breath catches. Iris's green eyes blaze. "Yes. It pulls at me like the sea to the shore. But such a bond—there are boundaries." Zareya sighed and looked at the moon. "Boundaries are made by tradition, not by heart," She replies, her voice trembling with hope and fear. Before Iris can respond, footsteps echo softly. Lyra appears, bearing a message sealed with crimson wax. "Your Majesty, urgent word from the southern watch." Zareya breaks contact reluctantly. "Duty calls." As they part, the unspoken promise hovers—soon, destiny will find them, no matter the cost.