Aurevia stepped onto the obsidian stage with a grace that asked for no attention—and yet stole every breath within the grand chamber. A silver veil woven with soft enchantments concealed her face, catching the lamplight like stardust scattered on silk.
Her robe swept quietly behind her, unmarred by vanity or hesitation. She simply stood. A veiled woman beneath the glow of divine luminance.
No mana flared. No force declared. And still, the silence spread like a wave from her center.
The auction hall, tiered and vast, sat carved in layered enchantment. The ground floor brimmed with nobles, merchants, guildmasters, and adventurers.
Above them, encased in floating glass balconies, ninety-nine VIP suites pulsed with controlled mana. Private entrances, sound-proofed walls, wealth encased in architecture.
At the summit—wrapped in divine runes and encrypted arrays—was the lone shadowed balcony.
Where Alaric watched.
Aurevia's voice rang out, clear and controlled.
