The Crystal Pavilion rose at the exact center of the capital like a blade of frozen starlight driven into the city's beating heart. White marble walls veined with rose quartz caught the late-afternoon sun and shattered it into rainbows that arced across crowded plazas; towering crystal-capped spires refracted every stray beam until the entire structure seemed to breathe light.
Inside, the grand central ballroom stretched impossibly wide—an oval sea of polished black obsidian floor ringed by tiered balconies held aloft by gilded columns carved with coiling dragons and star-lilies in full, impossible bloom. Overhead, dozens of enormous chandeliers floated on invisible mana-threads, their thousands of crystal facets already beginning to glow with soft, anticipatory fire.
Today the Pavilion belonged to women alone.
