The Volturi throne room had been transformed into a spectacle of decadence. The air was thick with the mingling scents of wine, perfume, and faint traces of blood, though no one dared spill too much in the presence of their hosts. Laughter and murmured conversations echoed off the marble walls as vampires from across the world indulged in the Volturi's rare hospitality.

You stood near the edge of the grand hall, a glass of dark red liquid in hand, observing the crowd with detached interest. It was a dangerous game, being here—a guest of the court, neither an ally nor an enemy. Yet, something about the power and danger of the Volturi had drawn you in.

"You seem remarkably unimpressed," a cold voice murmured behind you. You turned to find Caius watching you, his pale features sharp under the low, flickering light. Unlike the others, who reveled with abandon, he remained an island of poise and control amid the chaos.