The palace gates creaked under the evening light, catching the last rays of the sun. A figure appeared beyond them, tall, commanding, and unnervingly composed. His golden eyes gleamed in the fading light, and the air around him carried an unplaceable weight.
The guards stiffened immediately.
"Halt! Identify yourself!" one barked, hand on his spear.
The man did not answer. He walked steadily, each step deliberate, exuding authority and something… otherworldly. The hairs on the guards' necks rose; they felt a strange pull, as if the palace itself recognized him.
The captain stepped forward. "Sir, you cannot pass without permission. State your business."
The figure tilted his head slightly, golden eyes scanning the courtyard. There was no malice, no threat—but something about him radiated power that silenced even the brashest soldiers. He was no vampire... perhaps a witch? Witches were not really appreciated in the palace asides the crown Prince of course.
