Aurelian stood at the edge of the balcony, overlooking the sprawling city of Westford. The sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the cobblestone streets, the spires of the Ivory Court looming like silent sentinels in the fading light. The estate, his family's ancestral home, felt both familiar and alien to him now—an emblem of his legacy that weighed heavily on his shoulders. Below, the city buzzed with the tension of a war that had torn the kingdom in two, its echoes reaching even the quiet halls of the Ivory Court. Though he was expected to lead, to embody the strength of his bloodline, Aurelian couldn’t shake the gnawing doubt that clung to him like the chill in the evening air. The lines between right and wrong had blurred too long ago, and he wasn’t sure which side he was meant to be on.