The first light of dawn crept through the heavy silk curtains of the East Wing, casting a soft golden hue over the Vespera triplets' bedrooms.
It was a gentle intrusion, the kind that whispered of the day ahead rather than demanding attention.
Valentina stirred first in her grand suite, her eyes fluttering open to the familiar sight of her four-poster bed draped in black silk sheets that felt like a second skin.
The room was a testament to their family's unmatched wealth, obsidian walls inlaid with veins of pure gold, a crystal chandelier hanging above like a frozen waterfall, and a balcony that overlooked the estate's sprawling gardens where dew-kissed roses bloomed in perfect rows.
Her Obsidian bead lay against her chest, its deep red glow pulsing faintly, as if syncing with her heartbeat.
She stretched, her long limbs extending across the vast bed, feeling the cool air kiss her skin.
Last night's introspection lingered in her mind like a shadow—the way she'd lain awake, pondering the weight of their legacy, the cold mask they wore to the world, and the flicker of excitement for Academia di Stelle.
It was a bedtime ritual of sorts, those quiet hours where doubts crept in, only to be crushed by the certainty of their power.
Beside her room, Vittoria woke with a yawn, her mural-painted walls glowing in the morning light.
The sunset scene on her wall seemed to come alive, oranges and pinks blending with the dawn. She kicked off her gold silk covers, her body already humming with energy.
Her room was warmer than her sisters', with plush rugs underfoot and a desk scattered with small luxuries—gold pens, diamond-studded notepads, and a holographic display that floated news from Luminara.
She sat up, running a hand through her tousled hair, her Obsidian bead warming against her neck.
The night before, she'd drifted off thinking about the school's parties, the eyes that would follow them, and the subtle thrill of being admired from afar.
But in the quiet, darker thoughts had surfaced: the isolation their status brought, the way people feared them more than loved them.
It was a double-edged sword, that power, sharp and unforgiving.
Viviana was the last to rise, her minimalist room bathed in a crisp light from the massive window.
The white silk sheets pooled around her as she swung her legs over the bed's edge, her feet touching the cool obsidian floor.
Her space was sleek and unadorned compared to her sisters'—a black bed frame, a simple desk with a gold lamp, and walls that reflected her preference for order.
Her Obsidian bead glowed steadily, a constant reminder of their singular place in society.
Sleep had come late for her, filled with introspection about trust and alliances, the grandparents' words echoing in her mind.
She wondered about the new faces at school, the potential threats hidden behind smiles, and the cold armour she'd need to wear.
It was these bedtime moments that fortified her, turning vulnerability into steel.
The triplets moved in near-silent harmony, a bond so deep it needed no words at first.
They slipped into matching black athletic wear—sleek leggings and tops embroidered with gold threads, designed by the finest tailors in Vionica.
Their gold jewellery stayed on, simple chains and bracelets that clinked softly as they prepared. The East Wing's staff, ever attentive, had already stirred.
Soft knocks at their doors signalled the start of the day, with maids carrying trays of fresh water infused with lemon and mint, placed on gold side tables.
The wealth was everywhere; the water came from private springs on their estate, the glasses crystal-cut and etched with the Vespera crest.
By 6:15 am, they converged in the hallway, their dark eyes meeting in a shared glance that spoke volumes. "Ready to sweat?" Vittoria asked, her voice light but edged with determination.
"Always," Valentina replied, her tone cool, masking the lingering shadows from her nighttime thoughts.
Viviana nodded, her expression unreadable. "Let's make it count."
They descended to the gym, a vast space in the East Wing that rivalled professional facilities.
The room was a showcase of opulence: mirrored walls framed in gold, combat mats woven from the finest synthetic fibres, and equipment imported from across.
Vionica—treadmills with holographic displays, weight machines sculpted like art pieces, and a climbing wall embedded with diamonds for grip.
The air was cool, scented with a faint citrus from diffusers, but soon it would thicken with the heat of their exertion.
Servants hovered at the edges, Bronze beads glowing dimly, ready to assist but knowing better than to intrude without cause.