After a few minutes spent catching their breath, they gathered their nerves and stepped inside the palace, feeling a rush of anticipation mixed with trepidation. The atmosphere seemed to shift as soon as they crossed the threshold, like they had entered a sacred world hidden from mortal eyes. Shadows clung to the grand interior, deep and thick, almost pressing down on them, as if the palace itself observed them, measuring their worthiness.

The palace was breathtaking in its natural beauty, yet there was an underlying, ancient power here—a sense of something waiting, listening. The walls rose high, merging with the towering roots and branches of the Great Tree, giving the impression that the palace had not been built but grown. Roots twined together, forming archways and staircases, while veins of softly pulsing light ran beneath the bark, casting an otherworldly glow. It was as if the structure was alive, each heartbeat of the Tree resonating through the walls and floor beneath their feet.

It was so quiet that even their own breathing felt too loud. Just as the silence settled over them, a whisper of movement drew their attention—a procession of veiled figures appeared, gliding forward without a single footstep breaking the silence. Their veils were thin but dark, and the only hints of their features were glimpses of solemn, watchful eyes.

Without a word, the figures surrounded them, and a tense moment hung in the air before they gestured for the children to follow. Elliot glanced back at Quizig, seeking assurance, but his face remained serious, his eyes shadowed, though he gave a small nod.

As they moved through the hallways, the veiled figures began directing each of them to separate chambers. It was unsettling, being divided like this, and when Elliot was shown into a room and the door closed behind him, he couldn't shake the unease prickling up his spine. He tensed, glancing around the dimly lit chamber, heart racing with an unfamiliar sense of vulnerability.

Inside, a small, hooded figure awaited him, their posture serene yet unreadable. From the room next door, a loud, startled shriek suddenly pierced the quiet. Elliot flinched, the sound making his blood run cold. It was unmistakably Roshan's voice, and it set every nerve in him on edge.

The figure in front of him chuckled softly. They lifted their veil to reveal a young boy with pointed ears and tattoos etched into his cheeks and hands, their designs swirling in delicate patterns. He offered Elliot a gentle bow.

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"My apologies," he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Our customs may seem strange to you. We're here to prepare you for your meeting with the Archon."

The boy's attendants moved around Elliot with a quiet, practiced grace, reaching to undress him. Elliot recoiled, instinctively crossing his arms over his chest, heat flooding his face. "Whoa, no, no—hold on," he stammered, backing away.

The boy raised an eyebrow, both amused and puzzled by Elliot's reaction. "You resist our rites of preparation?" he asked, his tone curious. "It is simply our way of honoring guests, to cleanse them for an audience with the Archon."

Elliot shook his head, firmly standing his ground. "I can… take care of it myself, thanks."

The boy studied him, eyes glinting with mirth, before giving a small nod. "Very well. If that is your wish, we'll allow you your privacy."

He motioned toward a nearby doorway, and Elliot was relieved to find a bathing chamber beyond, quiet and dimly lit. The room was like stepping into an oasis hidden in the heart of the palace. A round, stone font lay at its center, filled with water so pure it seemed to glow in the flickering candlelight. Scented candles were arranged in a careful circle around the basin, casting a warm, amber glow. Their smoke wound upward in slow spirals, mingling with the subtle fragrances of wild herbs and delicate flowers hung from the walls.

Against one wall stood a small cabinet, lined with bottles and jars of various shapes and colors. Some shimmered with oils, others were filled with dried petals, and a few were labeled with words in a language he didn't recognize. He chose a small bottle with a golden liquid that smelled faintly of sandalwood and jasmine. Pouring a few drops into the water, the fragrance spread through the room like a spell, calming his nerves and softening the weight of tension on his shoulders.

As he eased into the bath, the warm water enveloped him, soothing the last bit of his unease. He closed his eyes, feeling his muscles relax, each breath releasing the remnants of his fear. The candlelight flickered across the ceiling, casting a soft, shimmering glow that made him feel as if he were floating in a dream.

After what felt like an eternity, he stepped out of the bath, refreshed and renewed. A robe had been laid out for him, woven in a deep indigo, embroidered with silver threads that seemed to mimic the light of the stars. As he slipped it over his shoulders, the fabric was like a whisper against his skin—soft, weightless, and yet somehow grounding.

Outside, he found his friends waiting in similar robes. Wuxian looked as though he'd rather be anywhere else, his face a deep shade of red. "Everywhere.... They touched me everywhere."

Altan's eyes were wide, still in shock.

Roshan, meanwhile, was hugging herself, her face a mixture of embarrassment and indignation. "I can't believe they just… they just... bathed me like a baby!" she whispered fiercely, her cheeks flushed. "As if leaving me on those stairs wasn't enough, none of you even tried to help me when I screamed!"

Wuxian shook his head, "Anyways, how come you're so relaxed after all that?" He said as he stares at Amiyan, who stood perfectly calm, his expression unreadable, though his posture carried a quiet confidence. As one of the servants passed by, she paused, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at him. Her gaze softening with a kind of reverence as she bowed deeply.

Elliot noticed the interaction and raised an eyebrow.

Amiyan only shrugged, giving a small, enigmatic smile. "It's just etiquette".