The Ravarian sky was always too bright. Even at night, it burned.

A soft glow spilled from the towering palace walls, casting the courtyard in golden light and lush shadows. Jasmine scented the air. Musicians plucked strings in gentle rhythm, the sound of Ravara’s peace offering echoing into the night.

Prince Mingi of Eldor stood motionless on the edge of it all—an intruder cloaked in black velvet and disdain. His pale skin shimmered faintly under the torchlight, silver-veined and unmarred despite the centuries behind him. His long black hair was tied half-up, neat as always, his expression unreadable. Behind him trailed the subtle scent of ash and myrrh—Eldor’s signature, and his.

“This is unnecessary,” Mingi murmured without looking back. “They know exactly what they did. And yet they dress the walls in silk and expect gratitude.”

“They expect survival,” came the low voice of General Kael beside him, cloaked in dark armor marked with Eldorian sigils.

Mingi’s jaw clenched. “Survival should not come dressed in gold.”

He turned toward the grand doors of the palace, now opening to receive them. The light inside bled out in warm waves, revealing preparations for a celebration: glasses clinking, veils rustling, courtiers whispering, traditional Ravarian music filling the ballroom.

Above it all would be her—the Princess of Ravara. Mingi didn’t know her name or care to ask, but he knew she would embody everything he despised about Ravara: sunlight-worshipping, overly sweet, trained to charm. He would hate her deeply for what her kingdom did to his people.

Before entering, High Priestess Rho joined him, blessing him to "hold tight to your shadow." Mingi stepped forward into the firelit ballroom of Ravara, where peace was a game of masks and poisoned wine. The princess waited, unaware she was about to meet the one man who would never fall at her feet or allow himself to love her—even in a thousand years.