As the evening deepened, all the noble guests had arrived, their presence filling the grand hall with murmurs of conversation and the glimmer of fine silks and jewels. With an air of effortless grace, Archduke Eridrius ascended the stage prepared for him, his movements calm and deliberate. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows behind him, heightening the anticipation of the gathered audience.

  With a composed smile, he addressed the assembly, his voice carrying through the hall with unwavering authority. "Your Majesty, King Luceryn, I hereby declare this grand celebration officially commenced, with Your Majesty as the esteemed guest of honor for this occasion."

  His gaze then shifted toward King Luceryn, his trusted friend, who met his words with a nod of acknowledgment, his expression one of mutual respect. A murmur of approval rippled through the crowd, nobles exchanging glances as they absorbed the significance of the moment. The air was thick with expectation, unaware that something far greater than a mere celebration was about to unfold. As Archduke Eridrius stood before the gathered members of the Cheinzs bloodline, the grand hall seemed to grow colder. Then, as if responding to an unseen force, an eerie shimmer filled the room. From the shadows of the ancient chamber, the mirror materialized, its frame pulsing with a dim, otherworldly glow. Gasps rippled through the hall, but Archduke Eridrius remained still, his sharp eyes locking onto the sacred artifact. Knowing it responded as if knew he'll make an oath.

  He stepped forward, unshaken, his deep voice cutting through the heavy silence.

  "By the blood of my ancestors and the weight of our legacy, I, Eridrius Cheinzs, stand before the sacred witness of our lineage."

  The mirror's surface rippled, absorbing his words as glowing inscriptions began etching themselves into the glass.

  "As long as my heart beats and my will remains unbroken, I swear upon this ancient vow—our bloodline shall never waver, our name shall never fall. By my hand, by my strength, and by the will of the Cheinzs, I will guard our kin against all who seek to undo us."

  A dark purple glow began to swirl from the mirror, surrounding the room, touching each of the Cheinzs present. The magic slithered like unseen chains, binding them to his words.

  "Let the oath be witnessed by this sacred relic, the mirror of the nameless witch. Should I falter, may the price be upon me alone. Should one of our own fall by unnatural hands, let the mirror deliver its judgment."

  For a brief moment, the mirror flickered—an image barely forming, something twisted and unclear. A whisper of a forgotten past… or a warning of what was to come?

  Then, the glow settled. The oath was sealed. And yet, a lingering sense of unease settled deep within Eridrius’ chest. As soon as the oath was completed, the dark purple glow slowly faded in an instant, vanishing as though it had never been there. The ancient mirror returned to its usual form, appearing like any ordinary mirror once more. However, among the gathered nobles, some exchanged wary glances, suspicion flickering in their eyes.

  The silence that followed was abruptly broken when a nobleman stepped forward, his voice echoing through the grand hall. “My lord, I have a questions as I have heard rumors spreading beyond these walls—rumors of four women bearing the insignias of your sons' noble houses. Are they, perhaps, esteemed guests of honor at this very gathering?”

  A murmur swept through the hall, a ripple of curiosity and unease. Among the members of the Cheinzs bloodline—descendants of Eridrius—the dukes unconsciously clenched their fists. Their sons, the heirs of each ducal household, turned their cold, piercing gazes upon the nobleman who had dared to speak. The weight of their collective scrutiny bore down upon him like an unrelenting force, piercing straight into his soul. The nobleman, feeling the oppressive intensity of their stares, swallowed hard and hastily cleared his throat. “O-of course, it is merely idle gossip, nothing more. I was simply curious, that is all,” he stammered, beads of sweat forming on his brow. Chains Sletcheinzs, the eldest of his bloodline, was staring at him with such unwavering sharpness that it felt as though his very head would be severed by the force of his glare alone.

  Eridrius merely exhaled, his expression unreadable. With a voice both composed and commanding, he spoke, “How quickly rumors travel… even to these halls.” He sighed, preparing to address the matter further, but before he could utter another word—

  From beyond the grand, open doors of the main hall, a sound echoed through the estate.

  The heavy iron gates of the Cheinzs manor groaned open, their intricate, gilded design reflecting the fading light of the evening. All eyes turned toward the source of the disturbance. A regal carriage, adorned with the unmistakable crest of the Cheinzs family, rolled gracefully through the entrance, its wheels gliding over the stone path that surrounded the grand fountain at the center of the courtyard. The rhythmic clatter of hooves against the stone signaled the arrival of an unknown guest, drawing the rapt attention of the entire gathering.

  The carriage came to a halt at the foot of the grand staircase leading into the hall. Every noble, every heir, every esteemed guest fell silent, their curiosity and intrigue mounting.

  The siblings of the Sletcheinzs, Sheencheinzs, Sancheinzs, and Shaincheinzs houses stood still, their expressions composed, though a flicker of confusion passed through their eyes. Who among their kind would arrive in their grandfather’s personal carriage, unannounced? None of them were aware that the ones seated within were, in fact, their long-lost sisters and cousins. Archduke Eridrius remained seated, his sharp gaze unreadable as he observed the scene. Beside him, his four wives exchanged quiet glances, while his sons and their wives watched in growing anticipation.

  The entire hall erupted into murmurs as Eridrius’ highest-ranking attendant descended from the driver’s seat of the carriage. He moved with precision, stepping toward the door with a respectful bow before carefully opening it. With a knowing smile, the driver extended his hand, a silent invitation to those within.

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  One by one, four delicate hands, clad in elegant gloves, reached out to accept his assistance.

  Each young woman descended the carriage steps with unshakable poise, their movements graceful, almost otherworldly. As they stood side by side at the entrance of the grand hall, a soft evening breeze stirred the sheer fabric of their elegant gowns, making the half-masks that concealed parts of their faces shift ever so slightly.

  A collective gasp rippled through the audience.

  The moment was surreal—their elegance, their presence, the enigmatic aura that surrounded them. The grandsons of Eridrius, each heir of their noble houses, felt their breath hitch in their throats. For before them stood four women of undeniable beauty and grace, their very existence challenging the secrecy that had been kept hidden for so long. At the grand entrance, framed by towering doors thrown wide open, the four cousins stood in poised silence, their gazes sweeping across the grand hall before them. Without haste, they lifted the hems of their gowns, ascending the marble steps with a grace that seemed almost otherworldly. As they reached the landing, their delicate hands released the fabric, letting their gowns cascade back into place, flowing with an ethereal softness that mirrored the movement of waves beneath a silver moon. Their entrance was mesmerizing—each step measured, each movement effortlessly elegant, as if they were meant to command the air itself. The soft click of their modest heels echoed against the polished floors, a quiet yet powerful rhythm that resonated through the vast hall. Archduke Eridrius and his four wives, flanked by their sons and daughters-in-law, moved forward in unison, their expressions unreadable yet unmistakably watchful. The noblemen, the siblings from each family, remained still—captivated, even momentarily spellbound, by the sight before them. Their awe was most evident when their gazes landed upon the young woman with cascading ocean-blue hair. There was something almost unreal about her presence, as if she had stepped out of a tale long forgotten. Yet, she was not alone in this effect. All four of them, moving as one yet distinct in their own right, exuded an undeniable presence that pulled the room into quiet reverence. As they made their way further inside, not a single pair of eyes strayed from them. They drew attention effortlessly—without a single word, without seeking it. They simply were. The noble who was skilled in poetry thoughts their beauty was not of this world—it was something carved from the whispers of the moon and the lull of the tides, something that left the air itself breathless. They stood with an elegance that did not demand attention, yet it ensnared every gaze, like a waltz of shadows and light beneath the silver glow of a forgotten dawn. Their figures were poised, sculpted by grace itself, moving with a composure that spoke of quiet storms and untamed destinies. Each step they took was measured, as if they were gliding upon unseen tides, their presence both commanding and elusive, like a dream one struggles to remember yet cannot forget. Their eyes—deep pools of mystery, holding secrets as old as the stars. They shimmered with an unspoken power, as if galaxies stirred within their depths, as if they had gazed upon fates unwritten and still walked forward, unshaken. A single glance from them could halt time, turning whispers into silence and breath into prayer. And their hair—a cascade of silk spun from midnight and twilight, woven with the softest strands of dreams. Half tied in intricate braids, like crowns resting upon celestial beings, while the rest flowed behind them, untouched by the weight of the world. The wind dared not tangle it, only lifting it in reverence, letting it dance like rivers of dusk spilling into eternity. They were not merely beautiful; they were enchantment itself—a vision painted by the hands of fate, a mirage that lingered long after one had looked away. As both parties reached the center of the grand hall, the four young women gracefully lowered their heads, delicately lifting the edges of their gowns as a sign of respect before letting the fabric cascade back into place. With composed elegance, they greeted their grandfather, grandmother, fathers, mothers, uncles, and aunts. Meridia was the first to speak, her voice as soft as a whispering breeze, “We have arrived, Grandfather.” Her tone carried a deep reverence, a respect only reserved for those who came before them. Their half-masks shifted slightly as they bowed, a subtle movement that only added to their enigmatic presence. Aelita followed, her voice gentle yet mesmerizing, a tone so enchanting that even noblemen found themselves drawn in despite the simple words she uttered. “It has been a long time since we last set foot in this grand estate.” When they straightened their posture with effortless grace, their delicate smiles—partially concealed behind their masks—were enough to command the entire hall’s attention. Archduke Eridrius stood momentarily stunned, taking in the sight of his four granddaughters before his features softened into a warm, affectionate smile. His voice carried a deep emotion, wavering slightly as he spoke, “How many years has it been, my dear granddaughters… I have missed you all so much.” His words, laden with emotion, sent a ripple of silence throughout the grand hall. Their parents watched with a mixture of joy and pride, seeing how beautifully their daughters had grown. But it was their grandmother who struggled the most to contain her overwhelming emotions. The moment Meridia had addressed the Archduke as "Grandfather," the entire hall erupted into shocked gasps. Whispers spread like wildfire among the nobles. “Did I hear that correctly?” One noble murmured in disbelief. “Did they just call Lord Eridrius their grandfather?” Another noble, still gaping, nodded as realization dawned upon them. “So… the rumors were true all along.” The revelation sent waves of shock throughout the gathering, even reaching Eridrius’ grandsons. The young men’s eyes widened momentarily before they quickly regained their composure, though their minds reeled at the sudden discovery—these four women were not strangers but their younger sisters and cousins. From the distinguished seats of the honored guests, King Luceryn slowly rose to his feet. With deliberate steps, he made his way toward his old friend, a knowing smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. Stopping beside Eridrius, he let his gaze linger on the four young women before speaking in a measured tone, “So… these young ladies are your granddaughters, Erid?” Archduke Eridrius turned to his longtime friend, his smile unwavering as he nodded. “Yes, Your Majesty.” King Luceryn’s eyes, sharp and discerning, observed the four young women with great interest. But before he could utter another word, they moved in perfect unison, lowering their heads once more and addressing him in a synchronized, melodic tone.

  “It is an honor to meet Your Majesty here today.”Their voices, smooth and refined, held an unshakable poise that only heightened the intrigue surrounding them.

  The king let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head in mild astonishment. “I must admit, I did not expect them to grow into such remarkable beauties.” Eridrius simply smiled, the pride in his gaze unmistakable.

  “Come, my dear granddaughters,” he said, gesturing toward the crowd of nobles. “Let me introduce you properly to the guests gathered here tonight.” And with that, the grand hall, once filled with murmurs of speculation, now braced itself for the official unveiling of the four noblewomen who had so effortlessly captivated them all.

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