The air outside the palace was crisp, the sky steel-blue and glowing faintly with the shimmer of ether flowing through the high-channel spires.
Along the curved drive, a sleek line of midnight-blue imperial sedans waited in perfect formation—dark glass, silent engines, and subtle ward-runes glowing beneath the hoods. No emblems. No house sigils.
Gabriel stood at the top of the marble steps, dressed head-to-toe in midnight blue, the deep shade absorbing light like secrets. Silver thread glinted through the long folds of his formal coat, traced in delicate, almost-invisible ward sigils—heat absorption, static deflection, and a mild stabilizing weave to combat the light-headed nausea already clawing at the edges of his balance.
His fingers brushed his stomach once—subtle. Too brief to notice, he hoped.
