The colossal holographic map of the Sacred Land dissolved into a fine, glittering golden mist, sinking back into the opalescent floor of the grand hall. Solis had delivered his strategic vision, and the strike team had accepted it without a single note of hesitation or doubt. However, before the ruthless CEO of Rosea could unleash his celestial blitzkrieg upon the Fringes, he had to secure his most vital asset. He had to ensure his husband would survive the deployment.
Tygr led the group away from the grand command dais and deeper into the ancient, silent belly of the Temple of Origins. They walked down a sweeping corridor constructed entirely of the same seamless, opalescent stone. The atmospheric pressure here was incredibly dense, tasting sharply of ozone and old, undisturbed magic. Solis kept his hand firmly intertwined with Noir, his silver aura actively humming to shield the young prince from the crushing spiritual gravity of the inner sanctum.
