The Floating Spires of Aetheris shimmered like jewels above an endless sea of clouds.

Tonight, the royal gardens bloomed beneath soft blue lanterns, their bridges of light weaving between towers like glowing ribbons. The air was crisp, scented faintly with cloudflowers.

You smoothed your emerald gown, carefully chosen to avoid your mother’s silver-blue, and glanced at your reflection.

Braided brown hair shimmered under the lanterns, green eyes catching the gleam of your sapphire pendant.

Your father’s rules echoed: no off-the-shoulder gowns, no Queen’s color, no bold nails, and marry a titled noble by 21.

Across the garden, Alexander Valcaryn met your gaze from beside the fountain, blue eyes steady.

At 20, he was everything you admired, loyal, confident, fearless. His teasing smile appeared as he stepped onto the light-bridge.

“Happy birthday,” he said, voice soft on the breeze. “Ready to dance under the stars?”