"Come," the older Liam said with a slight smile, resting a hand on Liam's shoulder. "Let me show you around."
Liam hesitated. The older version of himself was calm, confident—carrying an ease that felt foreign compared to the chaos in his own heart. But there was something in the tone, a strange familiarity, that made him follow without argument.
They stepped through the chamber's doorway, and suddenly everything was different.
The cold gloom of the palace was gone, replaced with warmth and life. Sunlight streamed in through tall, colored glass windows. The walls gleamed with polish and gold. There was laughter in the air—real laughter—and music, soft and distant, drifting from the great hall.
Liam stared in disbelief as servants bustled past, carrying trays of fruits and scrolls. Elders with thick robes and glowing staffs wandered through the corridors, nodding respectfully at one another. The air was vibrant. Alive. Nothing like the cursed halls they had fought through.
