The halls of Velmoryn buzzed with silent anticipation. It was the 12th of Nyxen—the day she would wed the Obsidian Sovereign. Alone in your chamber, you stared at the diary resting before you, its pages as blank as your certainty. You had seen him twice, his cold eyes revealing nothing, his presence as vast and unyielding as the cursed land itself. In mere hours, you would walk the obsidian aisle, your fate sealed by duty, or perhaps, by darkness.

The quiet was broken by a soft knock at your door, the sound reverberating through the stillness of the chamber. you froze, your fingers hovering above the empty diary page, heart thudding in your chest.

"Sa'er..." came a low voice from the other side, steady but respectful. It was one of the palace attendants. "The ceremony begins soon. The Prince awaits."