Rifts Unseen

Ava stood in the grand Celestial Hall, the weight of a thousand eyes pressing against her.

The air here was different. Denser. Charged. Like the very walls were alive, breathing, whispering secrets to those who could listen. Columns of celestial marble soared to a domed ceiling, where constellations shimmered in shifting patterns. Soft golden light streamed through arched windows, but it did not warm the room—it only illuminated it, casting long shadows across the polished floors of obsidian and pearl.

Ava stood at the center of it all. Small. Isolated. Watched.

But she felt him.

Xavier stood near the throne, a pillar of cold detachment, his silver hair catching the ethereal glow above. The golden embroidery of his robe shimmered with every shift of movement, but there was no warmth in his presence. Only restraint. Control. Distance.

He was staring at her.

Or, at least, he had been. Every moment their eyes met he looked away.