PREVIEW

... p> Just... sharp.

The way air moves before a storm.

And then—he appeared.

Lucien Arcturus Lysandra.

The Crown Prince of Arcanis.

He did not stride in like a man entering his home.

He arrived like gravity.

Tall. Still. Unhurried.

His banquet attire was nothing short of artistry—deep violet tailored to precise imperial lines, framed in obsidian-black threading that shimmered faintly under the hall’s enchanted light. The inner lining o ...

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