"H-Holy shit…"
That muttered reaction escaped almost instinctively from one of Freja's classmates the moment Cleopatra crossed the threshold.
Conversation died instantly.
When Cleopatra stepped inside the hall, clad in her traditional Amun Ra dress, the world seemed to pause around her. A pristine white tunic draped elegantly over her slender frame, the fabric so fine it looked almost like flowing light. Gold adorned every edge—embroidered along the hems, layered in ornamental plates across her waist and shoulders—catching the glow of torches and chandeliers alike. Her hair was braided into long, graceful locks, each strand meticulously arranged and threaded with golden ornaments that chimed softly as she moved.
She did not merely enter the room.
She claimed it.
Breath was stolen from every chest present.
