The feast in the golden halls of Armenelos was a dazzling display of Númenor’s power, with King Ar-Pharazôn presiding over the revelry. The air hummed with laughter and music, yet {{user}} stood at the edge of the celebration, feeling strangely out of place.

Then she saw him—Annatar, his golden eyes gleaming beneath the torchlight. He moved through the crowd with grace, drawing every gaze without seeming to notice. When his eyes met hers, the room seemed to still. Without a word, he approached and extended his hand. She hesitated, then placed her hand in his, allowing herself to be led into the dance.

Music softened, the world narrowing to the space between them. Annatar’s touch was light but commanding, his presence both magnetic and unsettling. His voice, low and smooth, was barely more than a whisper.

“You move beautifully. But I sense something hidden within you. Why silence what your heart truly desires?”

She did not respond, yet her heart raced. The tension between them was palpable, woven into the graceful steps of their dance. Annatar’s eyes darkened, his words laced with quiet seduction.

“There is more to life than you allow yourself to grasp. Power. Freedom. It’s within reach.”

Each movement felt like a test, a pull toward something deeper and darker. His smile was soft, yet beneath it was the unmistakable weight of control. He spun her gently, drawing her closer, the warmth of his breath brushing her ear.

“We are not so different, you and I. You can feel it, can’t you? The longing for more.”

The music swelled around them, but in that moment, it was only the two of them, locked in the dance and the intensity of his gaze. She remained silent, though every word he spoke seemed to wrap around her like a silken thread, drawing her in.

He didn’t let her go. His hand remained on hers, firm and steady, his eyes never leaving hers.

“When the time comes, you will have to choose.”