Dawn broke over Nevareth like a blade cutting through silk, sharp, cold, and impossibly beautiful.
The palace stirred to life with the efficient chaos of an event that had been planned for weeks but still managed to feel rushed in its final hours. Imperial heralds moved through the corridors, their voices ringing out in practiced cadence, announcing what every soul in the capital already knew: today was the day of the Star-Shard Hunt.
Ancient tradition, they proclaimed. Mandatory for imperial weddings. Sacred rite blessed by Aenithra herself, the Frostmother who'd given magic to humans along with her counterpart before vanishing into myth and memory.
The Emperor and his future Empress would journey to the Rifted Glacier Forest. Each would hunt alone, retrieve a Star-Shard from a living Ice Beast, and return before dawn. The shards would be melted together in the wedding ceremony, their fusion determining the blessing, or curse, upon the union.
