Prince Theron sat alone by the fountain in Neomenia Palace, staring into the clear water as it spilled from the carved stone basin, cascading into ripples that reflected the sunlight like scattered jewels.
The fountain was beautiful, an intricate centerpiece in the palace gardens, with tiers of water flowing from an elegantly sculpted marble pedestal.
Around it, lush flowers in shades of deep purple and blue spilled from carefully tended beds, filling the air with a faint, sweet fragrance. Tall, graceful trees arched overhead, casting dappled shadows across the ground and providing a gentle shade that felt more like a sanctuary than a garden.
