Caspian stood still as stone in the dimmed chamber of the Queen, the velvet curtains drawn to a close, suffocating the light that dared try to soften the truth between them. The cold, faintly metallic scent of old magic and blood still clung to the air, lingering like a shadow too stubborn to leave.
He wore his maroon ceremonial robes, heavy with woven enchantments and lined with deep obsidian threads that shimmered when caught in the candlelight. A mantle of silver phoenix feathers hung across his shoulders, its edges dusted with imperial gold.
The polished amethyst brooch that clasped his cloak pulsed faintly—his crest, the symbol of the Celestial Court reborn under his reign. His long violet hair was tied in a precise half-knot, the strands threaded with fine stardust beads, marking him once more as ruler of the Lunar Kingdom.
But despite his regality, his gaze remained pinned to the polished marble floor—unmoving, unflinching, and filled with unspoken weight.
