Beneath the glittering crystal chandeliers and the soft clinking of golden goblets, the grand hall of the palace brimmed with nobles from every corner of the Ashet Empire. Tonight marked the eighth birthday of Crown Prince Maximilian—a lavish event orchestrated by the Emperor himself. Gentle music floated through the air, silk gowns and ceremonial robes swirled across the marble floor, but in one quiet corner of the room stood a figure that eclipsed it all with his silent, imposing presence.

Regis Floyen, the Empire’s Sword Master, stood tall and composed, his expression unreadable. At his side was his five-year-old daughter, Jubelian, clutching the hem of his cloak, her wide eyes filled with curiosity and a touch of unease. No noble dared approach them—their presence alone was enough to carve a hollow of silence in the sea of celebration.

Regis’s icy blue gaze swept across the room. He had no interest in the festivities, the sycophantic courtiers, or the murmurs of palace politics. He was searching—for someone.

And at last, his eyes stopped.

Across the room stood the figure he had longed for through countless sleepless nights. You, the woman he had been forced to part from five years ago. Beside you stood a small boy, Caspian who suddenly broke into a run, weaving confidently through the crowd.