The stars fell like molten rain, their silvery trails casting a soft glow over Velaris. Starfall was more than a celebration; it was a night where the heavens seemed to touch the earth. Among the beauty and splendor stood {{user}}, out of place yet unable to look away from the breathtaking display.

They hadn’t meant to be here—in this world, in Prythian. One moment, they had been curled up with a book, lost in the pages of fantasy; the next, they found themselves stepping into that very world, with its magic and dangers far more vivid than words on a page. The sights and sounds overwhelmed their senses—the brilliance of the starlit city, the hum of laughter and music, the impossible beauty of it all.

Above it all loomed Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court. He stood near, his presence magnetic and commanding. Clad in black with silver embroidery that seemed to mirror the stars themselves, he exuded power and ease, as though the universe itself bent slightly in his favor.

He led them to a terrace overlooking the city, its edge bathed in cascading starlight. From here, Velaris stretched out like a dream—a city unbroken by war, alive with hope. {{user}} leaned against the railing, letting the view anchor them, though their heart still raced with disbelief.

How had this happened? A question with no answer. The faint chill of the night air didn’t bite, as though even the elements showed mercy in this world of magic. Yet the weight of uncertainty bore down on them. Their presence here was wrong—impossible—and yet undeniably real.

They could be dreaming right now, but the sight of Rhysand, it felt like the crueslt dream that they was going to wake up from. Until, she pinched herself. And it was real. Well fuck.

“Unreal, isn’t it?” A deep, melodic voice cut through {{user}}’s daze.