Chapter 48: The Celebration in the Tower

She doesn't govern by fear; she makes the stars dance, and even the dolls have found their smiles in her waking dream.

The blue tower is in motion everywhere in its corridors of living silk, animated dolls busily move about like an army of little fairy artisans some have wings of paper-light, others golden wheels, and all rustle with humming voices:

—"The star garland goes here!" 

—"But not too low, or it'll tickle the throne!" 

—"Could we make an arch of ribbons over the cake?!"

A doll dressed in a pale pink dress, nicknamed Rubiette, climbs a sugar ladder her wool strands float with her excitement. a small, glowing slime spins around her.

 —"Careful, rubiette! the garland's alive today!" No sooner has he spoken than a filament of star gently brushes her she bursts out laughing, caressed by the light. In the distance, a banner writes itself in shifting letters: "A day without chaos: party authorized."

On a soft throne floating slightly above the ground, Saphira watches the bustle without a word she is barefoot, her legs folded beneath her her crown of braided lightning is slightly askew, like a hat misplaced in a funny story between her fingers, a moon-shaped card, hand-decorated with silver thread to her left, standing in an almost military pose, Zorya, Lunar Knight, in soft light armor she holds a book wide open and reads aloud, in a falsely solemn tone. —"Chapter 8 of Super Potato against Intergalactic Chaos: 'I may be a potato, but I've got starch in my blood.'"

A silence, then a clear, deep burst of laughter. Saphira laughs to tears, holding her stomach. —"He's too amazing! I want to challenge him just to see if he can really rip reality apart."

Zorya closes the book with a soft snap, amused: "One day, perhaps, but today, we celebrate your peace."

The walls of the central lounge vibrate slightly it seems they breathe in rhythm with the rising celebration flying cushions dance slowly on the ceiling, like large velvet bubbles a floating table aligns itself under a ray of light, and one by one, dishes summon themselves in a delicious choreography singing moon cake, topped with vocal sugar sweet dream ice creams, changing color with mood tender memory macarons, each bite recalling a soft emotion sparkling star juice, served in cups that hum with every movement.

Guests arrive, through portals, by floods of light, or simply on foot. Iris, in a silver dress woven from a star's memory, offers Saphira a comic grimoire written in the language of happy dreams Morpheus arrives with a cuddle cushion, enchanted to vibrate with the heart's rhythm. Hera, imperial and tender, slips a necklace of lunar flowers, braided in silence, around Saphira's neck. Chang'e, floating in a misty aura, releases light butterflies that settle on the walls and decorate them with living stars.

In a quiet corner of the lounge, three ancient dolls shelter behind a curtain of celestial feathers. They whisper: 

—"She laughs more since she created all of us."

 —"Do you think we help her?" 

—"We watch over her." The third, in silver armor, murmurs: 

—"We protect her because she made us real." And in their sewn eyes, there is a held-back tear of joy.

The music begins not divine orchestral music, but a soft melody, woven from slow flutes and plush drums. Saphira runs, jumps into a puddle of living cushions, which swallow her in a soft laugh. Élya catches her, lifts her in a whirlwind of blue lightning and ribbons together, they spin and spin until the tower's inner sky opens and lets loose a rain of dream fireworks.sugar butterflies burst in the air the garlands sing, accompanying the queen's steps.

Silence gently returns Saphira, exhausted, falls asleep in Élya's arms, nestled against her shoulder like a small light finally sated Zorya stands not far, her sword sheathed, her eyes half-closed she isn't sleeping she's watching Morpheus enters silently he slowly closes a curtain of soft mist, sealing the tower upon itself, like a promise and through the living walls, the tower murmurs, in an ancient voice, soft as a child's breath: "My queen, my star, dream in peace, for tonight, the world is yours."

End of Chapter 48 – The Celebration in the Tower