Amorphous: A Trace in Ashes

 The palace of Astarian stirred as it had not in years. Servants moved like streams through the grand halls, their hurried steps echoing across polished marble. Banners of deep crimson and silver — the colors of the imperial house — were unfurled and hung high once more, their ancient threads cleaned and mended until they gleamed in the pale light.

In every corner of the empire's heart, preparations had begun.

Darmire Roszen Astarin, Crown Prince of the Astariash Empire, carried himself with grace, but the weight of duty pressed heavy on his shoulders. He was no longer just a younger brother welcoming his kin; he was the host of the realm, the symbol of unity, the eye of the storm about to gather.

From morning until night, he was never still. He met with stewards to approve the seating of the nobles, with chefs to finalize the endless courses of the feast, with chamberlains to review the guest lists. His quill scratched across parchment after parchment as invitations were signed, sealed, and dispatched by swiftest riders to every noble house.

The finest male designers and tailors of the empire answered his summons. They arrived at the palace gates with their apprentices, bolts of cloth, sketches, and promises of splendor. Under Darmire's orders, they set to work at once, measuring Roxail's form with silent awe, presenting fabric as rich as moonlight and dark as midnight storms.

The elder prince said little during these fittings, his dark eyes unreadable.

Elsewhere, the palace glittered with a different kind of preparation.

Empress Semantha, radiant in silks and jewels even within her private chambers, received the most famed dressmakers, jewelry artisans, and hairdressers of the realm. Their work was for her alone. She consulted them with a smile, her fan fluttering like a delicate bird in her slender hands, as she selected gowns that shimmered like starlight and ornaments sharp as daggers beneath their beauty.

And beyond her own adornments, she gathered the noble ladies.

Two days before the banquet, the empress hosted a tea gathering beneath the golden arches of the east garden. Young beauties with eyes like summer seas and hair like woven gold, elder matriarchs in their wisdom and grace, and the most elegant mistresses of the empire's great houses — all answered her invitation.

They laughed and sipped tea beneath the shade of flowering trees, their voices sweet, their glances sharp. The empress spoke to each as though to an old friend, weaving silken threads of flattery and inquiry through her conversation, her smile never faltering, her dark eyes ever watching.

Within the palace walls, the servants felt the rush of the days.

New maids and footmen were appointed, their hands raw from scrubbing stone and polishing silver. They practiced bows and curtsies, learned the names of nobles they would serve, and whispered among themselves of the splendor — and the dangers — of the court they had joined.

In the kitchens, the heat of a hundred fires glowed day and night. Chefs barked orders over the clatter of pans and the hiss of boiling pots. The air smelled of rich spices and roasted meats, sweetened fruits and delicate pastries.

And Roxail?

The imperial prince remained apart, preparing himself in ways that no tailor or jeweler could assist.

He stood long at his chamber's window, watching the palace hum with activity below. His garments were chosen, his measurements taken, but it was his mind that he worked to ready. The nobles he had left behind, the faces now grown older, the masks they wore — all waited beyond these walls.

He walked the silent corridors at dusk, his footsteps soft against the ancient stones, his reflection catching in the tall windows. His hand brushed the cold marble of pillars that had seen emperors rise and fall.

The palace was as it had always been.

And yet, nothing felt the same.

Night fell, and the palace glowed with candlelight from a thousand windows. The last invitations were sent, the final jewels chosen, the final banners hung.

The stage was set.

And beyond the walls, the empire waited.

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