As the sun began to rise, Dominion Sanctum awoke to an atmosphere brimming with a rare energy that seemed lighter, warmer, and almost affectionate.
The morning breeze danced through the estate, rustling the silver-leaf trees and sweeping over the broad stone paths.
Servants hurried about with trays, decorative pieces, lights, and baskets filled with fresh supplies, their footsteps reverberating across the smooth courtyard tiles.
The news was buzzing throughout the estate: The Patriarch was throwing a feast,a grand one, no less. Each member of the Osborn Family, fifty-five in total, was asked to come. And for the first time in what felt like ages, the mood was not one of strategy or formality; it was purely... festive.
The estate's expansive garden covered several acres, with lush emerald grass carpeting the ground. Tall, crystalline lantern pillars lined the paths, and flowering trees sparkled softly in the sunlight.
