The great throne room of Solaria, the cavernous chamber of polished marble and gilded splendor, buzzed with nervous energy as nobles and dignitaries filed in. Sunlight streamed through towering stained-glass windows, casting kaleidoscopic patterns across the assembled crowd. The air was thick with tension, perfumed whispers, and the rustle of fine silks.
At the far end of the hall, upon a raised dais, stood the twin thrones of Solaria. The larger seat, usually occupied by King Aldric, sat ominously empty – a stark reminder of the monarch's mysterious illness. Queen Lyra perched regally on her throne, her face a mask of calm composure that belied the storm of emotions roiling beneath.
