The newly transformed hall stood in stunning silence for a moment.
its walls now gleaming with veins of gold that caught the sunlight streaming through crystal-etched windows.
The air was thick with the sweet, overpowering scent of blooming vines that had burst through the cracks in the floor, their leaves rustling like whispers in the wind.
Diamonds in the chandeliers above twinkled like captured stars, casting rainbow patterns across the long wooden table.
which had somehow mended itself, its cracks sealed as if they had never been.
But the beauty was lost on everyone in the room.
All eyes were on Elara, who lay crumpled in Lysandra's arms, blood staining her pale skin and the front of her blue gown in dark, spreading patches.
Lysandra's heart hammered in her chest, a wild, frantic beat that drowned out the fading echoes of the tremors.
She knelt on the cold stone floor, cradling Elara's head, her fingers slick with the warm, sticky blood that trickled from Elara's ears and the corners of her eyes.
It looked like tears of crimson, mixing with the droplets from her nose and the coughs that had sprayed from her mouth.
"Elara," Lysandra whispered, her voice breaking in a way it rarely did.
She wiped at the blood with the edge of her sleeve, but it kept coming, slow and relentless, pooling on the floor in small, dark puddles that reflected the chandelier's light like twisted mirrors.
The maids were frozen in shock.
Brenna's hands trembled as she clutched a scattered parchment, her brisk efficiency shattered; her eyes were wide, mouth open in a silent gasp.
Liora had backed against the table, her soft face pale as milk, one hand covering her mouth to stifle a sob.
Aveline dropped to her knees nearby, her broom forgotten, reaching out hesitantly as if afraid to touch.
"My Empress... what happened?" Aveline stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.
The guards, their scarred armour now seeming out of place in the opulent hall, shifted uneasily, swords still half-drawn, glancing at each other with surprised murmurs.
"Was it the wish? Did she... do this?" one muttered, his voice laced with awe and fear.
Outside, the kingdom was in uproar.
The market square teemed with people, their faces upturned to the transformed palace, whispers turning to shouts of confusion and wonder.
Houses that had been ramshackle hovels now stood sturdy with marble facades, doors swinging open on oiled hinges, roofs tiled in shimmering slate.
The outer walls loomed higher than before, their stones fused seamlessly, towers rising like sentinels with battlements that gleamed under the sun.
Plants had grown wildly, roses climbing walls with thorns as long as daggers, trees swelling with fruit that dangled heavy and ripe, their scents mingling in the air like a perfumed fog.
Count Darius and his family stood at the edge of the crowd, his wife Elowen clutching their children close, all of them staring in disbelief.
"It's a miracle... or a curse," Darius said, his voice booming but uncertain.
But inside the hall, the miracle felt like a nightmare.
Elara's body convulsed again, a weak shudder that sent fresh blood bubbling from her lips.
Her breathing was ragged, shallow, her pale skin turning ashen, like parchment left too long in the sun.
Lysandra pressed her hand to Elara's chest, feeling the faint flutter of her heart.
"Get a healer!" Lysandra barked at the guards, her tone sharp as a blade, snapping them from their stupor.
Two of them bolted out the door, boots pounding on the newly polished floors.
The maids finally moved, Brenna fetching a clean cloth from a nearby basin, dipping it in water that sloshed with her shaking hands.
Liora is kneeling to support Elara's legs.
Aveline was whispering prayers under her breath, her fingers twisting in her apron