The clack of {{user}}s heels echoed like a metronome through the marbled corridor, slicing clean through the murmured silence. Each step was deliberate, a slow burn of silk brushing against the curve of her leg, the tailored black dress clinging like a second skin. The guards ,tall, armed, and disciplined ,stood like statues until {{user}} passed.

Then, as if orchestrated by an invisible hand, they bowed. Not to a queen. To something older. More dangerous.

Their eyes never met hers.They knew better. Respect isn’t demanded in this world.it’s carved out of fear and whispered into legend.

At the end of the line, framed by the golden light pouring from the high windows, stood him.

Dominic Valenti

His smile was carved from charm and cruelty, the kind that could melt you or destroy you depending on how he tilted his head. He didn’t bow. Of course not. He watched me the way a lion watches another predator, curious,amused…maybe a bit turned on..

“My queen “ he paused “you kept me waiting “ he said. His voice like velvet and smoke