Liam and Lana walked up to the towering wrought-iron gates of the palace, the flickering lights reflecting off the polished surface like fireflies trapped in glass. Two guards in long, dark military-style coats stepped forward immediately, their eyes cold, assessing. Liam didn't say a word. He simply reached into his pocket and pulled out the invitation. The guards looked at it, then at them. One of them gave a curt nod and waved them through.
The moment Liam's shoe crossed the threshold of the gate, something passed through him.
It wasn't wind. It wasn't pressure. It was… ancient.
A weight older than time seemed to drape itself over his shoulders, sliding like smoke along his spine. He didn't flinch, but every inch of him went on alert. Goosebumps rose across his skin, a strange, ghostly chill brushing his nerves. Whatever this place was, it wasn't normal.
Lana, walking beside him, noticed his brief pause.
"You feel that?" she whispered, barely moving her lips.
