The morning light broke softly over the manor's polished floors as I prepared myself for the first day of Foundation Day. In the hushed glow of dawn, Haisley and her fellow housekeepers moved with deliberate grace—first drawing warm water to bathe me, then carefully selecting each piece of jewelry to complement the gown crafted by Vera.
Every sound—the gentle clink of tiny accessories, the soft rustle of fabric, even the hushed murmurs of activity—became part of a quiet symphony of preparation that hinted at the grandeur of what was to come.
My gown was a vision of warmth and audacity: a backless, off-shoulder evening dress in a striking brownish-orange hue that recalled autumn's burning embers. From the neckline down to my waist, intricate patterns of ruby stones were set like droplets of captured fire, while the hem, whisper-thin and translucent, cascaded toward the floor with an ethereal quality.
