The people's eyes turned to Zale Turquoise, his presence commanding as if the air itself shifted around him. His long silvery hair spilled like liquid moonlight over his shoulders, a few strands framing his sharp features. His attire was a rich blend of emerald and black, intricate patterns curling across the flowing fabric like living waves. Gold accents traced the edges of his robe, and a belt of interwoven cords cinched his waist, securing layers of elegant fabric that draped with effortless grace.
Pinned to his chest was the jewel he held moments before—a brooch of deep green, its polished surface gleaming like a captured shard of jade, bound in an ornate gold setting. It drew the eye, not only for its craftsmanship but for the quiet pulse of power it seemed to carry. His gaze, a piercing shade of blue, swept across the hall with the sharp clarity of a blade, leaving little doubt why whispers followed in his wake.
