The ballroom was full.
That alone was unsettling.
Not loud-full. Not chaotic-full. It was the kind of fullness where too many powerful beings occupied too little conceptual space, and reality itself felt politely strained, like a host smiling through clenched teeth.
Crystal chandeliers hovered overhead, their light warm and measured, reflecting off polished marble floors etched with imperial sigils. Music flowed smoothly from an enchanted orchestra, each note precise, flawless… and utterly ignored. Conversations overlapped in controlled murmurs, every word weighed, every laugh calculated.
This was not a celebration yet.
This was a standoff dressed in silk.
Groups had naturally formed, like oil refusing water.
