The clock struck seven. Darkness had claimed the sky, yet the Imperial Palace stood defiant—bathed in a soft, golden glow that made it seem like a divine structure descended from the heavens.
Every tower shimmered with enchantments, and thousands of mana-fueled lanterns floated gently in the air, casting glimmering reflections on the marble-white palace walls.
Silken banners of deep violet and royal gold streamed from every spire, fluttering in the evening breeze.
Jewels sewn into the fabric sparkled like constellations, as if the stars themselves had gathered to witness the birth of a princess anew.
The palace gardens had been transformed into a dreamlike realm. Soft white silk was draped over trimmed hedges and woven between blossoming trees, catching the light of hanging crystal orbs that drifted through the branches.
The lights mimicked falling stars—each flicker dancing like stardust as they glided slowly from above and dissolved into golden mist. Flowerbeds were arranged in celestial patterns, and mana-infused petals floated through the air, releasing faint, sweet fragrances.
In the grand banquet hall, everything gleamed. A crystal chandelier the size of a carriage hung above the center, its light refracting into dancing rainbows.
Long dining tables were set with pristine white cloth, lined with elegant silverware and enchanted plates that kept food warm. The aroma that filled the room was enough to tempt even the most disciplined noble.
There were towers of desserts—fluffy vanilla tarts topped with glowing sugar roses, chilled crystal fruits bathed in honey glaze, and cakes stacked like miniature castles, each one themed after different royal emblems.
Chefs in snowy white coats moved with precision and pride, occasionally adjusting placements as if curating artwork.
Musicians positioned near the hall's edge played soft, graceful melodies using elven harps, enchanted flutes, and magical string instruments.
Their music wove through the atmosphere like a breeze, keeping the air light and inviting, soothing nerves and lifting spirits.
Noble families had already begun to arrive and mingle. Lords in formal robes lined with family crests exchanged greetings, while ladies in glimmering gowns shared quiet laughter behind jeweled fans.
The conversations ranged from politics to poetry, from magical breakthroughs to mere compliments about the night's perfection.
Maids in tailored dresses of navy and silver moved with poised elegance, carrying trays of sparkling nectar, rosewater pastries, and wine aged for centuries. Butlers followed behind, offering service with sharp precision and polite bows.
The hall pulsed with grace, magic, and expectation.
Just beyond the grand archway of the ballroom, two rows of Imperial Guards stood straight like statues—each dressed in ceremonial armor polished to a gleam, blue capes flowing behind them. Trumpeters raised their instruments, their notes echoing throughout the palace, commanding silence.
Then came the deep, booming voice of the imperial announcer—his tone regal, trained to command awe:
"Now entering—House of Valenwood!"
A tall man with soft, gray-streaked brown hair entered first, his noble bearing radiating dignity. Beside him walked his wife, a graceful woman in a forest-green dress embroidered with golden leaves. Between them, their daughter walked shyly—a delicate beauty in a jade gown, her green eyes wide in wonder.
Whispers filled the room.
"Is that Elira Valenwood? She's grown so fast."
"House Valenwood… renowned for their mastery of nature magic. A quiet power."
"Now presenting—House of Stormwatch!"
A man with a broad, commanding figure entered, his storm-gray cloak trailing behind. His wife followed, clad in silver and sapphire, her expression cold yet regal. Together, they walked like a thundercloud—calm but deadly.
"House Stormwatch commands the northern sea routes, don't they?"
"Yes, and their warriors are unmatched in naval combat."
"Make way for—House of Ironclad!"
A stocky, iron-hard man stepped into the hall, his steps heavy like a marching drum. His wife wore a steel-threaded gown that shimmered like polished metal. Behind them came their two children—a strong-looking boy in a crisp suit and a confident girl with dark hair tied in a high ponytail, dressed in deep crimson.
"House Ironclad! Their daughter competed in the junior dueling tournament last year."
"I heard their bloodline can reinforce their bodies with metal mana."
"Announcing the arrival of—House of SilverMoon!"
All eyes turned.
A pair of elegant, twilight couple entered. The man, tall and graceful, bore silver hair and piercing golden eyes—a timeless, dangerous beauty. The woman beside him was equally captivating, with raven-black hair cascading like silk, her amber eyes glowing faintly under the hall's light. The aura of power around them was undeniable.
"The SilverMoon couple… so that's where Layla gets her looks."
"I thought they were reclusive. They rarely attend public events."
"Now arriving—His Holiness the Pope, His Grace the Archbishop, and…"
The trumpets paused, as if holding a breath.
"…the Saintess Olivia Lanze!"
A hush fell over the hall.
Olivia entered with serene grace, her maroon gown hugging her form modestly yet elegantly. Tiny divine runes were stitched into the fabric—faintly glowing like morning dew. Her platinum-blonde hair was braided to one side, and her emerald eyes, radiant as ever, scanned the ballroom subtly.
She greeted those who bowed with a gentle smile, but her gaze seemed distant—searching.
"Where is he?" she wondered inwardly.
But he was nowhere to be seen.
Then, silence once more as the trumpet call rose louder than ever before.
The announcer's voice echoed like thunder:
"And now—The Pride of the Empire… The Sword of the South… The Legacy of Valor…
House of Augustus!!"
The hall gasped.
From the grand staircase descended Duke Richard Von Augustus and Duchess Julia Von Augustus, both the picture of nobility. Richard's golden cloak shimmered with enchantments, and Julia wore an elegant gown of deep crimson velvet. Their presence commanded the air.
But it was their son and the women beside him, who stole the breath of every noble in the room.
Noah Von Augustus—tall, snow-white hair like moonlight, crimson eyes steady as stars. He moved with quiet confidence, his tailored black suit adorned with silver embroidery reminiscent of blade slashes and blooming frost.
The nobles could only watch in awe.
"That's the Augustus boy? I heard he was talentless."
"No… not anymore. Look at that pressure. That's not a boy—it's a storm waiting to be unleashed."
As the murmurs surrounding the entrance of House Augustus slowly began to fade, a sudden shift in the air stirred the grand ballroom once again.
The temperature subtly dropped. A crystalline mist coiled near the floor as the torches flickered—not from wind, but from something… divine.
All eyes turned.
Alea stood tall and graceful, exuding the ethereal beauty of the moon. Her raven-black hair fell in soft waves, pinned delicately with silver frost-shaped ornaments. She wore a regal midnight-blue gown, embroidered with pale icy threads that shimmered like constellations. Her sharp features and piercing gaze were impossible to ignore—A woman who once froze an entire battlefield with a single spell.
But it was her daughter who held the crowd's breath captive.
Lyra, clad in the breathtaking Frost Bridal Set, moved with the quiet grace of winter incarnate.
Her pale, glowing skin complemented the ice-blue lace gown that clung to her slender figure, the skirt trailing like soft snow behind her. Fine crystals lined the edge of her dress, catching the light like a sky of falling stars.
A silver choker adorned her neck, and her raven-black hair was braided intricately with frosted pins.
Her eyes—sharp and cold—scanned the crowd without flinching, her lance strapped to her back like a declaration: beauty does not mean weakness.
People whispered:
"Who is she…?"
"She looks like an ice goddess."
Then came,
Scarlett
Crimson.
It was the first thing that came to mind.
Scarlett entered like a storm wrapped in fire, her Crimson Bridal Set flaring with every step.
The deep red gown wrapped around her curves like silk flames, its slit revealing a smooth, toned leg with every stride. Crimson roses were embroidered along the bodice, blooming like fire against her pale skin.
Her red eyes glowed fiercely beneath delicate lashes, her lips painted a striking cherry hue.
She didn't need to wield a weapon—her gaze alone could cut.
Whispers erupted:
"The rumored commoner-turned-genius?"
"No... she's no commoner. She's a flame born in battle."
Lastly, a voice called—
"Lady Layla Silvermoon!"
The hall dimmed, just for a heartbeat, as if the world itself held its breath.
Layla, adorned in the Fallen Bridal Set, glided in with a haunting elegance. Her dress was a masterpiece of dark silk and shadowy lace—black with hints of purple and gold threads that danced under the light, embroidered with blood roses.
The veil flowing from her hair shimmered like a raven's wings, her amber eyes glowing mischievously beneath. Her beauty was wickedly enchanting, seductive and untamed.
Gasps followed her.
"A cursed noble? No—she's like a fallen angel."
"She's dangerous… but I can't look away."
The three girls didn't just enter—they owned the room.
And at the center of their attention, not far behind, stood Noah Von Augustus. The girls naturally drifted to his side like stars pulled toward gravity.
A few nobles began to murmur, their envy seeping through strained smiles.
"Tch… he's just a newly risen noble. How can he stand beside them like that?"
"Does he think he's some prince?"
"Three of the most dangerous and beautiful women in the empire… and they all orbit him."
Some clicked their tongues. Others scowled.
But the girls noticed.
Lyra's eyes turned to ice, glaring at a noble who whispered too loudly.
Scarlett gave a smile—sweet, but her mana flared, making the man flinch.
Layla? She let out a soft laugh, then leaned into Noah's arm possessively, her fingers gently stroking his collar.
"Jealousy is such a poor cologne," she whispered, loud enough for a few nearby nobles to hear.
Noah chuckled, utterly unbothered.
The girls stood close, radiant and dangerous, as the room simmered with envy, wonder, and awe.
And so, under the starlit lights and divine melodies echoing through the palace, the true storm of the night had arrived.
To be continued…