The imperial procession wound its way through the heart of Pyrhold, Solmire's blazing capital.
The streets were wide and sun-drenched, lined with banners that rippled in hues of deep scarlet and gold. Citizens gathered on the marble steps of the Grand Temple of Pyronox, the god of flame himself carved into the temple's high façade, eyes of molten glass seeming to watch the Fire Queen's final passage.
The Winter Knights, in silver armor trimmed with pale blue, gleamed beneath the light like shards of frost in a furnace. Their steady rhythm of hooves against stone echoed through the square, a steady counterpoint to the murmurs of the crowd.
In the noble districts, reaction fractured. Some bowed low, eyes lowered in respect; others turned away, faces tight with a blend of awe and fear. At the elite academies, students pressed against iron railings, whispering her name in tones caught between reverence and legend.
