The Whispers

The Velvet Moon Pavilion was a world where secrets were currency, and whispers held more power than gold. Here, every smile, every gesture, every laugh was meticulously crafted, a performance designed to keep the patrons entertained and the money flowing. But tonight, that delicate balance of power was shifting, twisting against the brightest star in the pavilion's orbit, Elian.

The grand hall hummed with its usual energy, voices blending into a familiar symphony of murmurs and laughter, the soft clinking of glasses filling the air like an old, well-practiced melody.

Patrons sat in velvet-draped booths, entertained by courtesans whose every move was designed to captivate. The way they poured wine, the soft brush of their hands on a patron's shoulder, the sweet, practiced smiles they wore, everything was crafted to perfection.