The Spire of Nine cast its elongated shadow across the Grand Assembly Hall like a massive needle piercing the heart of the capital. Reed stood at the threshold, the cacophony of voices washing over him in waves. Lords and Ladies from every domain had gathered, their distinct elemental signatures creating a nauseating tapestry of power that made his skin crawl.
"Remember," Shia whispered beside him, her voice barely audible above the din, "they expect you to fail. To embarrass yourself. Don't give them the satisfaction."
Reed's eyes narrowed as he surveyed the hall. Crystal chandeliers suspended in mid-air illuminated a space that defied conventional architecture—walls that curved impossibly, floors that seemed to breathe, and ceilings adorned with moving constellations that were unknown to any sky in the realm.
"I don't intend to," he replied, squaring his shoulders.
