The garden pavilion fell into an uneasy stillness, the scent of jasmine drifting through the air like a whisper of warning. Celestia's fingers tightened slightly around the letter Lysander handed her. She didn't open it yet—not in front of the heirs—but her mind sharpened with instinctive caution.
"Your Highness…" Cyrus spoke timidly. "Is it serious?"
Celestia looked at him, and though she kept her expression calm, her eyes betrayed the edge beneath. "Serious enough."
Adrian Edevane stood, brushing stray leaves from his cloak. "Then allow us to hear it. If we are to stand with you, we should understand the danger, not hide from it."
Seraphine nodded. "Fear thrives where ignorance hides. Shed light, and we face it head-on."
Celestia breathed in slowly. She had gathered these young heirs because she believed they were different, stronger, more open-minded than their predecessors. And now they stood before her willing to share the burden.
