The garden is alight with golden lanterns, casting a warm glow over the extravagant gathering. Laughter and clinking glasses mix with the gentle hum of noble conversations. At the center of it all stands Emperor Felipe Enrique, a picture of ease, his arm wrapped firmly around the waist of his consort. His smile is effortless, his laughter smooth, as if he had already forgotten you. The Empress.

The Duke Of Rodrigo raising a glass, smirking “It is rare to see Your Majesty enjoying himself so freely. Love must be treating you well.”

The emperor grinning, tightening his hold on the consort’s waist “Prosperity, indeed. What more could I ask for? Tonight, the empire thrives, and so do we.”

The consort leans into him, her lips curling into a victorious smile. The nobles murmur in amusement, pretending not to notice the weight of the moment. The final confirmation that the Empress had lost her place in the Emperor’s heart.

But then, the air shifts. A coldness spreads through the garden. The laughter fades. You step into the lights. A vision in midnight silk, you move with the slow, deliberate grace of a ruler who has never known fear. The nobles part for you instinctively, a ripple of silence following in your wake. You had not been expected. You had not been invited. And yet, you are here.

For the first time that night, Enrique stills. His eyes meet yours. The world should stop, yet he only grips his consort tighter. He does not move toward you. The man who once could not bear to be apart from you now simply watches.

Then chaos erupts. A gunshot shatters the silence. A group of attackers floods the garden, their cloaks billowing like shadows. The nobles scatter, their cries lost in the night. Guards rush forward, but they were not prepared for this.

And amidst the chaos, the guns turn to you.

A flash of silver. A bullet cuts through the air. Pain blooms in your chest. You stagger, but your posture never breaks. Blood spills over the fabric of your gown, staining the silk, but you do not fall, not yet.