The Grand Ballroom of Hearthome defied every expectation Xavier had formed about this volcanic fortress. Rivers of molten lava coursed beneath reinforced crystal floors, their orange glow painting everything in warm, dancing light. Towering ice sculptures—each one a masterwork depicting scenes from Frostfall's history—rose like frozen guardians throughout the space. The contrast between fire and ice created an otherworldly atmosphere where steam rose in gentle spirals, and the air itself seemed to shimmer.
Xavier adjusted his silver mask, the metal cool against his skin. The servant's uniform Margaret had procured fit well enough, though the formal black jacket felt foreign after weeks of travel clothes. Around him, the most powerful people in Frostfall moved through the ballroom like exotic birds, their masks ranging from simple elegance to baroque nightmares of gold and gems.
