The soft rustle of velvet curtains stirred faintly in the early morning breeze, whispering secrets to the silence as sunlight began to cascade through the large, stained-glass windows of the Velebrandt estate's vacant imperial mansion. Warm, golden beams spilled across the polished marble floors, illuminating the intricate patterns and casting a kaleidoscope of colors on the antique furniture. Dust motes danced lazily in the sunbeams, like floating embers suspended in mid-air, their gentle twirls undisturbed in the quiet sanctity of morning. The air was heavy with stillness, as if the very mansion held its breath, waiting for the day's awakening.
In one of the grand chambers, tucked within a four-poster bed of navy-blue silks and gold-threaded canopy, Lucien Caelum Velebrandt slept peacefully, his chest rising and falling with each gentle breath, still nestled beneath the heavy embrace of thick blankets.