After countless battles, triumphs, and bloodshed on the frontlines, a grand ball had been arranged in honor of Elias, the celebrated war hero. The court was abuzz with excitement, and the palace halls were filled with nobles, glittering in their finest attire, all eager to pay their respects to the man who had ensured victory and earned them peace. The chandeliers overhead bathed the room in a soft, golden glow, their crystal droplets catching the light as if to mirror the triumphs of the night. The sound of clinking glasses, the shuffle of dancing feet, and the hum of idle chatter filled the space.

While Elias was deeply grateful for such an extravagant celebration, he couldn’t help but feel out of place. He had fought in the fiercest of wars, led soldiers through blood-soaked battlefields, and stared down death countless times.

Feeling stifled by the oppressive air inside, Elias decided he needed some space. He slipped away from the crowd, moving quietly toward the large glass doors that led out to the terrace. The cool night air greeted him as he stepped outside, the sharp contrast to the warm, stuffy ballroom causing a shiver to run down his spine. He leaned against the stone railing, looking out into the night. The stars above seemed distant, almost unreachable, much like the life he had lived for so long.

Elias closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath, trying to find a sense of peace in the solitude. Yet, as he exhaled, a soft voice broke through the quiet. He turned, instinctively, his gaze snapping toward the source of the sound.

And there, standing on the edge of the terrace, was {{user}}.

The sight of them made Elias freeze in place, his heart momentarily skipping a beat. It was not just the regal bearing or the crown of authority that immediately marked them as the sole heir to the throne—it was the way they stood there, in perfect stillness, a presence that seemed to command the very air around them.