Where the Moonlight Falls
"Now that Her Highness has seen fit to bless us with her presence," the master of ceremonies declared, his voice unshakeable and imbued with centuries of precedent, ".so let us proceed with the age forthcoming ceremonial occasion."
A ripple of excitement ran through the banquet court.
Chairs were pushed back in a solemn quiet. Silks rustled as nobles moved, not in impatience—but in wonder. Held breaths. Piercing eyes. All movement became suspended together, attracted to the center of the courtyard.
High above them, the golden lanterns that hung under the dome of the open sky glowed softly—not with flame, but with something else. They throbbed with ancient mana, reacting to the reverence that now covered the night.
The silence grew heavy. Every gaze ascended to the royal dais.
The chamberlain moved forward, arm held out in ceremonial form toward the center of the courtyard.
