In the core area of Europe, the wind clan estate, the throne room
The grand throne room was built like a storm's eye—quiet, imposing, and charged with tension. Massive windows cast sharp light across the obsidian floor, where runes pulsed faintly beneath polished stone.
At its center, seated upon a throne sculpted from storm-forged metal, was Cassius, head of the Wind Clan. His black-gray hair, like strands of mist, drifted slightly with the breeze that always whispered through the chamber, no matter how tightly sealed it was.
A bored expression sat on his face as he leaned his chin on a gauntleted hand—elegant, but laced with dormant power.
Before him, a floating screen projected two familiar figures: Liè, tall and sharp-eyed, arms crossed with cold disapproval; and Livia, elegant and composed, though her frown betrayed her unease.
Their silence was thick—until Liè finally broke it, voice edged like steel.
