The news came with the quiet ceremony of inevitability.
"Your Highness," Idena said as she returned, her breath slightly uneven from the fast pace. "The Sanctum of Stars has sent confirmation. Lucavion… is expecting you."
Priscilla's gaze lifted from the letter she'd been reading, her fingers pausing just before folding the edge. For a breath, the silence between them deepened—like air thinning before a shift in weather.
"…So he did accept," she murmured.
A confirmation. Not relief. Not surprise. But the steady weight of knowing. That strange instinct within her—that certainty she hadn't dared name—had not been wrong.
And now… it would be tested.
"Where is the meeting?" she asked, already rising to her feet.
"The Sanctum of Stars," Idena replied, lowering her voice in deference. "They've arranged a private hall within their northern wing."
Priscilla blinked.
The Sanctum of Stars.
