Dark gray clouds loomed overhead, the wind sharp and cold, the metallic scent of lightning after rain lingering in the air.
Yet despite the brewing storm, the sky was lit with fireworks. Bursts of flame and color tearing through the darkness.
Laughter, murmurs, and clinking cups echoed throughout the Dragon Manor.
Ningyan felt painfully out of place.
Even dressed in a pristine white robe embroidered with gold, an outfit clearly meant for someone important, he felt like an intruder standing at the center of a world that could crush him without a thought.
Fox guards followed behind them, each carrying ornate boxes of gifts.
Ningyan walked beside Yan Wuhen, with Yan Wuyin trailing just behind his cousin, his expression unreadable.
The dragon guards at the entrance greeted them with respectful bows before leading them into the main ceremonial hall.
The space was vast, illuminated by glowing lanterns suspended high above.
