Azrael walked awkwardly into the red team's grand manor, fighting back the urge to look around like an awestruck peasant. He was supposed to be a prince, and not just any prince.
An imperial prince.
The interior of the manor was massive, with golden chandeliers adorning the ceiling, casting a warm, opulent glow over the vast space.
Flowers were arranged everywhere, their vibrant colors and delicate scents creating an atmosphere of refined elegance that was quite on-brand for a manor where Valerian resided. Paintings hung on the walls, but they weren't just any paintings—they were moving, imbued with subtle magic.
One painting, in particular, caught Azrael's eye. It depicted a field of flowers under a vast sky, with a small wooden house in the distance. The flowers swayed gently in an invisible breeze, and the clouds drifted slowly across the sky, creating a mesmerizing, almost hypnotic effect.
