The Grand Hall of the Emerald Spire shimmered like something out of a myth — all light and artifice and control.

  Marble veined with threads of real gold stretched out in radiant symmetry beneath Aria’s feet, its polish so precise it reflected the chandeliers above like a second, inverted world. Those chandeliers — great spirals of glass and bioluminescent crystal — hung like frozen nebulae, catching every glimmer of candlelight and engineered starlight pouring down from the vaulted ceilings above. Between them, long emerald banners unfurled down the columns, each one embroidered with silver thread bearing the tenets of House Verlone. [TO BE CONTINUED TOMORROW]

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