The carriage came to a smooth halt before the towering gates of Sanctum Lumina, an ancient church-turned-hall that now served as the venue for Lucian's cousin's grand masquerade party. The ornate gates, forged from blackened iron and gilded with silver filigree, shimmered under the light of the moon. From within, the faint hum of music and laughter spilled into the night air, punctuated by the flicker of lanterns that lined the cobbled path leading to the entrance.
The masquerade was set to be the event of the season, a celebration of Lucian's cousin, Lady Leona, on her 150th birthday—a significant milestone for an oracle who, by her youthful appearance, barely looked older than twenty.
