The Shattered Dance
Azaria 'Ziya' Point of View
The ballroom was a shimmering sea of color and movement, the ornate chandeliers above casting a golden glow that reflected off the myriad of glittering gowns and masks. The air was thick with anticipation, the kind that makes every breath feel heavier, laden with possibilities. I could feel it in my bones, a sense of unease that seemed to seep into the very fabric of the night.
The walls were lined with drapes of deep burgundy and gold, the colors of the Drakova Kingdom, and the floor was polished to a high sheen, a mirror reflecting the swirling mass of dancers. Each couple moved with a grace that spoke of long hours spent mastering the intricate steps of the dances, their movements synchronized to the lilting notes of a string quartet stationed at the far end of the room.