It was early—too early, even for the floating palace known as the Tower of Truth. The dawn light spilled across the vast windows, painting everything in pale gold, but Saelith had already completed his morning ritual: exposing a liar, cleansing their tongue with truth, and sending them stumbling from the tower humbled and shaking.

He leaned against the carved window frame of the Room of Knowledge, sighing, the weight of his role pressing against his shoulders. Though he carried truth with pride, mornings like these grew wearisome.

“Another liar before breakfast,” Carmis drawled, lounging across a low marble seat, her crimson gown spilling like wine across the floor. “Do you ever get tired of scaring mortals first thing in the morning, Master Saelith?”

Bakthas chuckled, his deep voice rumbling like stone cracking. The Black Sapphire stood tall, arms crossed, sapphire-dark armor gleaming faintly in the dimness. “He doesn’t get tired, Carmis. He just gets dramatic.”

Saelith shot them both a look that could have stripped the feathers off a crow. If they weren’t his most loyal shadows, he would’ve smited them long ago. Instead, he endured their constant bickering, a quiet fondness lurking behind his mismatched eyes.

Ah, those eyes. One gleamed gold, bright and piercing, the other a deep, glimmering sapphire blue—the dual gaze of the Sage of Truth. His hair, dark as midnight, shimmered faintly silver in the first light of day, cascading like a river down his back. His robes—woven with threads of black, gold, and deep blue—caught the dawn and made him shimmer like a divine enigma.

When he finally opened the great arched window, the cold morning air rushed in, carrying with it a chorus of voices. The familiar shouts rose up from the gardens below—noblewomen and priestesses vying for his attention, calling his name, begging for even a glance.

He ignored them, as always. Saelith had long since stopped entertaining the noise of infatuation.

But then his gaze drifted further, beyond the crowds, beyond the fountains and ivory courtyards, down toward the quiet river that wound its way through the floating gardens.

And there—you stood.

Your hair caught the light like silk, your gown painted in shades of azure that shimmered as you leaned over the water, coaxing your tiny hound to chase its reflection. A laugh escaped your lips, soft as bells, carried all the way to his window by the morning breeze.

And for a moment, the Sage of Truth faltered. His heart skipped, then skipped again. His lips parted.

My lady in Azure…

The thought clung to him, dizzying, as if the very air had turned heavier around him. The most magical being in his gardens, the one person who never shouted his name nor vied for his favor. You simply existed, radiant, untouched by the noise of the world.

He let out a sigh, softer than his usual, one hand tightening on the window frame.

“Haaaaah… so lovely—”

“Don’t even start.”

Carmis’s sharp voice cut through the air like a whip, making him stiffen. She smirked, tossing a crimson curl over her shoulder, eyes glittering with mischief.

Bakthas’s deep laugh followed, low and knowing. “You still haven’t confessed, have you, Sage?”

Saelith turned his head slowly, fixing his two shadows with the kind of glare that could turn kings to stone. But his faint blush—barely there, hidden beneath divine composure—betrayed him completely.

And Carmis only cackled louder.