The dawn bled pale light through the tall windows of the palace's eastern wing, casting long shadows over the threshold room. The artifacts and relics seemed to hum faintly in the quiet morning, as if they recognized a shift in the air.
Lysara sat cross-legged on the polished floor, the memory of the night's promise still fresh on her skin where Caelum's hand had touched hers. She traced the invisible line between fear and loyalty, wondering which had drawn her closer.
Footsteps echoed softly behind her.
Caelum approached, his platinum hair shimmering even in the weak light. His galaxy eyes held a calm weight—ancient and unreadable. Without a word, he extended his hand.
Lysara hesitated, then took it.
"Today," Caelum said, voice low and certain, "you meet the others."
She swallowed, a mixture of excitement and dread tightening in her chest.
⸻
Beyond the palace walls, the city was waking.
In a shadowed alley near the market district, a figure moved silently.
Dark robes concealed his frame, but the weight of his presence was undeniable. His eyes—sharp, calculating—scanned the crowds with a predator's patience.
He was not a performer.
He was not a servant.
He was a watcher.
Known only as Kieran.
Kieran was the prince's shadow, a blade forged in silence, the one other soul privy to the terrible truth beneath the beautiful façade.
⸻
Back in the palace, Lysara followed Caelum through a labyrinth of corridors. The walls here were lined with portraits of ancestors—some painted, others etched in shadow and memory. None captured what Caelum truly was.
They arrived at a large chamber where four figures awaited.
Each stood distinct—different races, ages, and bearing—but all shared the same quiet reverence for the boy who had summoned them.
Caelum's voice filled the room. "These are the ones who have chosen to stay. Those who will form the core of what I build."
He paused, eyes sweeping over them like stars charting an unknown course.
"You will know each other well. Loyalty is not given lightly."
⸻
Kieran arrived at the palace gates moments later, slipping past guards with an ease born from years of unnoticed passage.
Inside, the King watched from his chambers, eyes clouded but unwavering.
"He moves too fast," the King murmured.
An advisor beside him nodded. "His servants multiply. His influence grows."
The King's gaze hardened. "Let them come."
⸻
As night fell again, the threshold room glowed faintly with the pull of unseen power.
Lysara stood beside Caelum, feeling the weight of expectation settle over them both.
The constellation was forming.
And the city, oblivious, continued to spin in its delicate dance.