Moonlight bled in through towering windows etched with silver insignias of the royal bloodline, their reflections pooling across the polished floor like spilled frost. It was quiet—too quiet—only the hum of torches stacked against the obsidian walls, flickering with the kind of flame that seemed to whisper old secrets. The scent of musk and royal incense filled the air, heavy enough to choke someone who didn't belong here. But Leon belonged here. It was his home, his birthright… and yet, tonight, it felt like enemy territory.
He stood with his back straight, jaw set, arms folded tight as if holding himself together. The woman he had grown up believing was the one person who would never betray him—his mother, Queen Selene—stood across from him, her emerald gown sweeping the floor like a pool of poisonous elegance. Her face was laced with worry, confusion, and insult, features trembling in disbelief at her son's accusation.
