The temple bells rang three times.
Their sound rolled across the lantern-lit gardens like a solemn promise.
Conversation softened as nobles and priests turned their attention toward the central altar where the evening blessing would begin.
The marble platform had been decorated with white candles and bowls of offerings gathered for the temple's charities. Beneath the soft glow of the lanterns, the altar looked almost sacred.
Silvain Aurelion stood beside it.
His white robes reflected the golden light, making him appear almost luminous among the darker colors of the crowd.
He held a slender scroll of scripture in his hands.
For a moment he allowed himself a slow breath.
This part was familiar.
Sacred.
Calm.
He had performed dozens of ceremonies like this before entering Isolde's household.
Yet tonight felt different.
Something in the air unsettled him.
Silvain raised his gaze.
The five daughters of the Empress stood before the altar.
