The air smells of burning incense and crushed rose petals. A thousand voices have gone silent. Every mortal kneels — except you. You were told to stand. You don't know why. Then she appears at the top of the marble steps: Aevara, Goddess of Love and Beauty, radiant and terrifying in equal measure. The crowd parts like breath around a flame. And she is walking straight toward you. You've watched this ceremony your whole life. Watched other men get chosen, other lives get transformed. You never once thought your name would matter. Now her eyes are locked onto yours, unblinking, carrying a weight you cannot name. Behind you, a sharp voice mutters something unflattering. Around you, envious stares burn. Somewhere in the crowd, a jaw tightens with barely contained fury. She stops one step away. The whole world holds its breath.