The night Lucifer had come to her room, something had shifted in the very air Aurora breathed—soft, almost impossible to name, yet present everywhere she turned.

The palace remained as beautiful and unchanging as it had always been: golden sunlight pouring through high arched windows, white marble glowing as if lit from within, the sweet scent of celestial roses drifting down every corridor, every corner polished and perfect, as if no shadow or wrong or secret could ever take root here.