Aeron's POV
The hall was suffocating. Not just from the heat of hundreds of bodies or the weight of a thousand eyes, but from something else. Like I was standing inside a coffin made of gold and marble, too tall to lie down in, too narrow to breathe.
Banners hung from the vaulted ceiling, gold silk stitched with the sigil of our bloodline, rippling ever so slightly in the breeze from the arched windows. Even that air felt staged. Like everything else in this ceremony.
The nobles lounged in their gilded tiers, cloaks stitched with gemstones, armor gleaming more for pride than war. Their laughter echoed in the hall, hollow and performative, as if it were their own sons being crowned. I felt disgusted just by looking at them.
But I couldn't hear any of it...not really.
All I heard was the dull, echoing thud of my heartbeat.
