The dawn that broke was unlike any the Western Empire had seen in a millennium. The sky was not merely the harsh, blinding gold of the desert sun; it was streaked with ribbons of shimmering emerald and pale violet, a celestial mirror of the "Resonance Fusion" that had occurred within the heart of the palace. The very atmosphere felt different—less like a parched furnace and more like a living, breathing entity.
Inside the Imperial Bedchamber, the air was cool, scented with the lingering traces of jasmine and the crisp, ozone-rich tang of Northern frost. Kassian was awake long before the first bell. He sat propped up against the golden headboard, his silver hair a chaotic mess against the silk pillows. His gaze was fixed on Vera, who lay curled against his side, her copper hair spilling across his chest like a pool of molten embers.
