In a grandiose villa on the outskirts of Buzara, draped in silver and white hues, nestled against the snowy mountains as one of its protective barriers slept its inhabitants. Inside, a room mirrored those of others in their standing, its vastness and grandeur befitting only those of their ilk.
Two peaks towered, thrones of equal size, blanketed in the pure white of snow. Behind the thrones, gloriously embedded into the silver walls, was their prideful symbol, depicting their family lineage for centuries, serving as both honor and power.
Seated atop the thrones was a pair with hair colors and lengths matching, as if taken from the same span of time, for it was their fate. The one taller than the woman standing beside him, adorned with a short beard of the same color as his hair, spoke slowly, his voice like that of water that had already calmed any potential rage.
