[Grand Ceremonial Hall, Wedding Hour]
Silas stood beneath the grand arch of fire lilies and enchanted wisteria—an explosion of crimson and twilight-purple blossoms swirling with softly enchanted light. The petals shifted with every breath of magic in the air, casting flickering patterns across his robe like dancing flames.
And what a robe it was!
Tailored in the ancient style of the Grand Dukes of old—long and regal, stitched with centuries of legacy—it shimmered black as starlit midnight, the fabric dense with obsidian thread and whispers of ancestral enchantment. Golden embroidery coiled down his sleeves in the shape of ancient dragons and crowned wolves—symbols of power, loyalty, and legacy. His shoulders were capped in structured armor silk, layered for elegance and quiet intimidation. The deep-cut collar exposed a sliver of his collarbone, where a ceremonial sapphire burned with quiet fire.
He looked like a storm carved into flesh. Sharp. Imposing. Unapologetically royal.
