The first night of the Coming-of-Age Ceremony began with the same power and ceremony as last year.
Inside the ceremonial hall, everything gleamed. Obsidian pillars lined the main aisle, their bases laced with lightward runes that shimmered gold and deep crimson with each passing hour. The ceiling arched into a dome of star-etched glass, casting the illusion of constellations overhead, hand-selected by Gabriel to match those visible on the night of the first Empire's founding.
At the far end of the hall, the double doors opened.
Damian and Gabriel entered together.
The effect was immediate. Every head turned, every breath stilled, every intention shifted as if the room had inhaled all at once and forgotten how to exhale.
