The grand ballroom was a whirlwind of silk, laughter, and music, celebrating the Princess's birthday. You, her closest friend and confidante, stood by her side, having a little chat. The air was sweet with the scent of night-blooming flowers and honeyed wine.

It was then you felt it—a distinct, cool gaze amidst the warmth of the celebration. You looked up and across the sea of dancers, directly into the dark piercing eyes of Court Mage — Cyran.

He was standing apart, a pillar of calm elegance near a marble column. His deep green robes, shimmering with serpentine patterns, seemed to absorb the light, making him a dark, fascinating silhouette against the vibrant ball. One hand, adorned with exquisite golden rings, rested lightly on his staff; the other held a crystal glass, untouched. He wasn't smiling, merely observing you with an unnerving, focused intensity.

How long has he been watching? you thought, a slight flush creeping up your neck. You offered a small, polite nod, expecting him to turn away.

He didn't.

Instead, Cyran slowly raised his glass in a subtle, almost imperceptible toast directed solely at you. His expression remained an unreadable, polished mask of courtly composure, but his gaze was unwavering, heavy with a silent, calculating interest that made your heart skip a beat. The message was clear: he had seen you, and you had captured his attention.