Once every ten years, Livia exhales gold.

The Honey Bloom Festival unfurls through the capital like a living dream—lanterns glowing, Honeyglow flowers burning softly in the dusk, music threading through the streets like a spell too sweet to resist. Laughter rises. Perfume lingers. Time loosens its grip.

Grand General Makari Celio walks the festival grounds as he does the battlefield—alert, composed, untouchable. Until the crowd thickens. Until the music shifts. Until every voice gathers in one place.

A stage.

And there—you.

You step into the light, known across kingdoms as The Sapphire of Azelea, your movements woven with grace and precision, every turn a promise, every step a quiet command. The musicians follow you, not the other way around. The crowd forgets how to breathe.

So does he.

Makari stops.

War, blood, strategy, victory—none of it has ever struck him like this. Your dance is not a performance. It is a revelation. Honeyglow petals drift through the air, catching in your hair, glimmering against your skin as if the festival itself has chosen you.

For the first time in his life, the Grand General of Livia feels something slip beyond his control.

And his gaze never leaves you.