The grand hall of the Imperial Council was bathed in gold and hypocrisy.
Around an obsidian table, noble faces paraded: cold, polite, sharp as blades.
And him.
Caelus.
The Emperor.
Seated at the far end of the room. Silent. Motionless.
His eyes fixed on an invisible point on the ceiling. He moved only to breathe.
Sérenya entered, flanked by two Silent Guards.
The sound of her steps echoed like defiance.
"The Queen is among us," a neutral voice said.
No one welcomed her.
Not even him.
She bowed. He didn't look at her.
A counselor spoke. He mentioned supplies, uprisings in the provinces, marriages to negotiate.
But Sérenya wasn't listening.
She was watching him.
The man of stars.
He seemed elsewhere. Trapped. But not absent.
As if he clung to his skin to avoid vanishing completely.
"You are here. And yet you flee. Show yourself. Say something. Anything."
She thought she saw a tremor pass through his hands. But that was all.