The silence that settled over the banquet hall was as thick as velvet and twice as heavy.
Every eye was drawn to the dais, where the Celestian queen, shimmering with otherworldly grace, stood beside the demon and human rulers where, for the first time in living memory, the future of three great peoples balanced on a single, trembling moment.
Elysia felt it as a pulse in her chest: centuries of tradition, suspicion, and hope pressed together, demanding resolution.
The hush was so deep that the faintest sound—Kaelith's soft, uncertain "Mama?" as she squeezed her stuffed gryphon—seemed to echo from the crystal rafters.
For an instant, no one moved. Elysia met Malvoria's eyes, reading the same surprise, wariness, and subtle relief.
They had prepared for drama, for anger or refusal. Not this—this sudden readiness for acknowledgment, for legitimacy, from a queen known for never yielding.
