The ice chimes did not ring this morning; they sang.
Usually, the bells of Nevareth were a single, cold strike... a reminder of the passage of time in a land where time often felt frozen.
But today, as the first grey light bled over the jagged teeth of the mountains, the chimes erupted in a cascading melody that rolled down from the cathedral spires and through the winding, frost-rimmed streets of the capital. It was a sound of glass and silver, announcing to every district, every tavern, and every grieving home that the day of the Union had arrived.
The Empire woke with a collective jolt.
In the city below the palace, the night had never truly happened.
Thousands of servants and artisans had worked through the dark by the light of glow-crystals, their breaths blooming in white clouds as they positioned the final ice sculptures.
