The Gathering at the Night Court – A Decade Later
The grand hall of the Night Court had been rebuilt with glass and stone, where moonlight spilled across the floor like silver silk. Outside, the gardens bloomed under a starlit sky, the air warm with the promise of late spring. The banners of all five courts hung side by side as equals, untarnished, gently swaying.
They arrived not with sorrow but with laughter, memories, and time-worn steps of wisdom.
King Casimir stood at the edge of the balcony, his once black hair now streaked with gray, his bearing still regal but softened.
Caroline's hand rested in his. Her silver hair was braided simply, her eyes no less sharp, but lined at the corners from years of smiling more often than crying.
They watched the others approach, Arabella in rust-colored silk, her beauty dignified with age, walking slowly beside Lady Cynthia, who leaned on a carved cane but carried herself like a general still.
