The venue wore darkness like a crown but it was unlike the gothic nonsense made by decorators who thought black fabric automatically meant mystery. One of the private celebration halls of Infinity Chaos Hotel had been transformed into something intimate enough for family and grand enough to make family feel like royalty.
Just enough people and enough beauty.
The ceiling was swallowed in deep black and layered with silver curves that caught the light like blades under water. From above fell long chains of crystal, beadwork, and fine metallic strands, descending in shimmering curtains like frozen rain paused by command. Between them hovered reflective silver orbs and smoked glass spheres, each one catching the hall's pale lights and scattering them across the room in soft, ghostly fragments.
White flowers hung in impossible suspended gardens, arranged in long aerial beds that curved through the ceiling like pale islands floating in a black sea.
