The road had not changed.
Lan rode alone this time—just like he had last time, no entourage, no banners, no fanfare. Just the rhythmic clop of his horse's hooves against the polished white marble of the Golden Stone Road.
He remembered it well. How could he not? Once, it had paved before him like a divine test. Now, it greeted him like an old enemy, masking its sharp edges beneath charm.
The marble beneath him still glowed faintly with filigree gold. Still warm beneath the hooves, as if the sun had been hammered into the road's veins.
The towering statues that lined either side—immortal monarchs carved from pearl, steelstone, and memory—remained eternally watchful, their eyes fixed forward with imperial indifference.
Gardens bloomed in abundance. Roses that refused to wilt. Trees with leaves like crystal that shimmered with unnatural beauty. Fountains whispered nearby, their waters glowing faintly with mana.
It was breathtaking… and hollow.
Extremely hollow.
