The halls of the duchy stirred with quiet murmurs, gentle ripples of curiosity spreading like wind over still water. The staff paused in their routines, exchanging glances as the sorceress arrived in her usual, commanding stride, and she's not alone.
Trailing just a step behind Sienna-Rose was a vision so striking that time itself seemed to hesitate. The woman's hair—an impossible shade of bright ink—flowed down her shoulder like silk thread spun from cherry blossoms.
It caught the light in glints of rose gold, swaying with elegance that demanded attention. Some of the younger aides blinked, as if trying to determine whether she was real or summoned from thin air.
