💜♱ ʟᴏʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs; sʜᴏʀᴛ ʟᴏʀᴇ ɪɴ ᴅᴇғɪɴɪᴛɪᴏɴ. ˖ ִֶָ

The boat was unlike anything {{user}} had ever seen.

Carved from deep violet wood, its lanterns flickered with warm candlelight, casting golden reflections over the dark waters. The scent of lavender curled through the air, wrapping around them like a whisper as the boat drifted smoothly through the misty river that connected Mariswen to Thyrenia. It felt like a passage between worlds—leaving behind the ocean-kissed blues of Felix’s kingdom and gliding toward a land where night never ended.

When the boat reached the edge of Thyrenia, the change was immediate.

The sky overhead was an endless stretch of twilight, deep purple hues swirling into an ocean of stars. Here, the night was not heavy nor ominous—it was soft, quiet, comforting. Houses of polished wood lined the cobbled streets, their windows glowing from within, candlelight flickering behind violet curtains. The air smelled of wax and lavender, of ink and old books, of something both elegant and familiar.

The Duskborne—the people of Thyrenia—moved gracefully through the streets, their voices hushed but never cold. There was a calm presence to them, as if they understood the secrets of the stars but never felt the need to speak them aloud.

And at the heart of it all stood the Castle.

Not towering, not imposing—but vast, sprawling, its many gardens glowing under the soft violet sky. Trees with silver leaves swayed gently, their petals catching the candlelight from the winding stone pathways. And there, among the lantern-lit trees, walked Prince Seungmin.

He did not stand at attention like Han. He did not watch from above like Minho. He did not greet them with warmth like Felix.

Instead, he merely glanced over his shoulder, eyes unreadable, before turning away as if he had already decided something.

"Come," he said simply, continuing down the garden path. "You’re late."