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The grand ballroom of the Imperial Palace sparkled like a jewel box.
Golden chandeliers hung from above, casting a warm glow over the gleaming marble floors that shone like mirrors. The high ceiling was painted with lifelike gods and legends, as if the heavens were watching from above.
Velvet curtains in deep royal colors framed the tall windows, swaying gently. Soft orchestral music floated through the air, and behind fluttering fans, quiet whispers stirred like secrets in the wind.
Nobles sparkled in embroidered silks and tailored suits, their jewels probably worth more than entire villages. Laughter floated gently—light, practiced, and never too loud. Every word spoken was dipped in courtesy, but laced with secrets. They were all here for one thing.
And they were waiting.
The air felt electric, like the whole ballroom was holding its breath.
Then—creak.
The grand doors began to open, and a hush swept through the crowd.
"All rise for the arrival of House Valette!" the guard announced, voice echoing loud and clear.
Instant silence.
Fans paused mid-wave. Words froze mid-sentence. All eyes turned as one.
House Valette.
The name alone sent ripples through the crowd. Revered. Untouchable. A symbol of power, nobility, and mystery.
First came the Duke—tall, dignified, and sharp-eyed. His icy blue gaze skimmed the room like a man who knew every corner belonged to him. At his side walked his heir, Leonce Valette. Seventeen, polished, and practically glowing with potential. The type of boy scholars praised, nobles envied, and tutors wrote about in letters home.
Lady Selene, the eldest among the two daughters, followed—poise in human form. Graceful, regal, her pearl-stitched gown catching the light with every elegant step. Her smile could stop a conversation mid-flow—and tonight, it did.
Then came the youngest.
A girl of ten, with golden curls cascading down her back like strands of sunlight. Eyes like deep oceans at midnight, cerulean and endlessly calm. She wore soft pastels, delicate lace, and an expression far too composed for someone her age.
"She's so mature for a child," someone whispered.
"Radiant already. Imagine when she's older..."
"She might surpass her sister and even her own mother?"
"Creepy. But, um... thanks?" The youngest daughter thought.
She kept her smile polished, not a single twitch betraying the eye-roll in her head.
I'm only this mature because I used to be nineteen, people. Chill.
Because inside that dainty little body was a soul from another life. A life lived in shadows.
Back then, she had been no one. Forgotten birthdays, silent lunches, scrolling through strangers' lives and wondering what it felt like to be seen.
But now?
Now she was Elara Valette. The cherished youngest of the most powerful family in the empire.
She had everything she used to long for: warmth, status, attention. And she was loving every second.
"Elara! You look so pretty tonight!" Lira beamed, clutching her fan like it was her lifeline.
"You always act like a grown-up. It's honestly scary!" Marianne giggled, her curls bouncing.
Elara gave them her signature smile—the one that made hearts flutter. "Thank you. You both look beautiful tonight too."
"Oh, please." Lira rolled her eyes. "If you weren't my friend, I'd be so jealous."
"You still are," Marianne teased, and they all laughed, light and sweet.
But then—
Thud.
The guard's staff hit the marble.
"Announcing the arrival of His Eminence, High Priest Aldric of the Holy Temple, and his disciple, Damien Aurelian."
And once again, the room froze.
The High Priest entered first, robes white and faintly glowing, steps so light it felt like the ground bowed beneath him.
Then came him.
Silver hair, soft and luminous, framed a face too beautiful for words. His eyes—golden, glowing—looked like they held sunlight. He wore layers of white trimmed with gold, not quite ceremonial, not quite noble... something else entirely.
He didn't walk like a boy. He glided, calm and collected, like the world didn't quite touch him.
He was the one they had all been waiting for. Not the nobles, not the Valettes.
"He's like a celestial being..." someone whispered.
"An angel..."
Elara's gaze followed him, head tilted slightly. "Who is that?" she asked softly.
Lira and Marianne blinked at her like she had just grown a second head.
"You don't know him?" Marianne whispered.