The royal carriage rolled into the Courtyard of Alchemic Flame, its wheels rattling gently against the cobbled stone in a deliberate, stately pace. The great courtyard itself was awash in color, lit by ever-shifting mists that curled and danced in the evening air, remnants of Serewyn's centuries-old protective wards. For a moment, the swirling hues reminded Mikhailis of a living tapestry: vibrant blues and shimmering greens wove around pillars of pale gold and rose, forming a mesmerizing haze that lent everything an ethereal glow. Peering through the ornate carriage window, he felt a jolt of wonder stir inside him.