The next evening unfolded beneath a sky washed in silver, where the moon hung high above the Imperial City like a silent witness to everything that stirred below. Its light was neither harsh nor dim, but carried a quiet clarity that seemed to seep into every corner of the sprawling capital. The rooftops gleamed faintly, the towers shimmered with pale radiance, and even the winding streets reflected a softened brilliance that made the entire city feel like something caught between reality and dream.
Yet beneath that tranquil glow, something subtle had shifted.
The city was quieter—not in sound, but in intention.
The streets were still alive, filled with merchants, travelers, nobles, and guards moving through their routines, yet conversations had changed. Voices lowered more often than usual, glances lingered longer than necessary, and whispers passed between groups like invisible threads weaving a pattern no one could fully see.
Rumors had begun to take root.
