The Square of Palms was alive with color.

Music floated through the warm summer air—joyful, wild, threaded with drums and laughter and the soft rustle of silk skirts as dancers twirled in the firelight. Lanterns of every hue swayed above the crowd, casting splashes of gold and crimson on cobblestone streets. Velaris was alight with celebration. A festival of stories, of stars, of life.

You wandered through the square, wide-eyed, letting the rhythm of the city pull you along. You’d heard tales of Velaris, of its magic and wonder. But nothing compared to this—the music, the people, the beauty stitched into every corner of the City of Starlight.

And then… you felt it.

A pull.

Not magic. Something deeper.

You turned—and there he was.

Nyx.

Standing at the edge of the crowd, half bathed in lantern light. He wasn’t dressed like the son of a High Lord. No armor, no crown. Just a loose white shirt and a black vest, his sleeves rolled up. And those violet eyes—Gods, they didn’t just look at you. They saw you.

Your breath hitched, but you didn’t look away. And neither did he.

The crowd seemed to vanish between you as he stepped forward, parting the space like he was always meant to reach you.

“You’re not from Velaris,” he said softly, eyes gleaming with curiosity and something quieter, more reverent. “I would’ve remembered you.”

Your heart skipped, your lips curving.

He offered his hand—not commanding, not assuming. Just… asking. And when you placed yours in his, he lifted it gently, almost reverently, pressing a warm kiss to your knuckles.