Chapter 765: Entrance (3)
The mirrored doors opened with a breath of polished silence, and the first figure stepped into the light.
Mireilla.
She did not enter like a noblewoman trained in halls and tapestries. She entered like a bloom erupting through marble—uncontainable, unapologetic. Her gown shimmered in a rich emerald that rippled like sunlit leaves, its bodice embroidered with living vines that coiled up her arms in slow, deliberate motion. Subtle, elegant, alive. A crown of gold-laced ivy wreathed her curls, and each step she took left behind the faintest scent of myrrh and blooming cypress. She didn’t smile.
She smirked.
And it landed.
Whispers stirred immediately as she descended the steps—curiosity, calculation, the occasional audible "druid?" behind a fan. But none dared look away.
Toven followed in her wake like the second crack of thunder after the lightning.
His suit was cobalt-dark, sharp-angled and luminous at the edges, threaded with glimmers of voltaic runes that pulsed faintly with each step. His coat flared slightly at the cuffs and hem, etched in streaks of silver that mimicked lightning forks mid-strike. The twin rods holstered at his hips glowed with capped energy, restrained but waiting. His hair was artfully tousled, the usual chaos now corralled into style—barely.
He offered a wink to someone near the front and nearly tripped on a step with a muttered curse—earning a ripple of laughter from the bold and the curious alike.
But beneath the antics?
There was voltage.