Lilith's POV
As I stepped into the throne room, a wave of awe washed over me. The space was vast, its high ceilings adorned with intricate carvings that depicted scenes from our history—battles fought, alliances forged, and the rise of our domain.
Golden chandeliers hung above, their crystals catching the light and casting a warm glow that flickered across the marble floor. The air was thick with the scent of polished wood and the faint musk of incense, a reminder of the weight of tradition that hung heavily in this place.
At the far end, the throne itself loomed majestically, a grand seat crafted from dark mahogany, inlaid with gemstones that shimmered like stars. Behind it, a stunning tinted glass wall formed a backdrop, filtering the sunlight into a kaleidoscope of colours that danced around the room. It was there that my father, King Philip, sat with a calm demeanour, his regal presence commanding the space as he patiently awaited my arrival.
