𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐃; ʜᴘ (𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐃)

𝟎𝟎𝟑; ᴄᴏᴜʀᴛ ᴏғ sᴇʀᴘᴇɴᴛs

"𝐖𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒." Ophiuchus just scoffed as he looked at her.

She possessed a captivating beauty that set her apart from the crowd. It was an ethereal kind of beauty, one that held the promise of maturing into an even more breathtaking allure as time unfurled its wings. Her complexion was as delicate as a translucent pearl, its pallor contrasting with the cascade of the dark locs that framed her visage. Her eyes are reminiscent of the dark void, were mysterious and deep, drawing you in with their magnetic intensity.

Amelie Sayre-Prince, First Daughter of the Magical Congress of the United States of America. As well as Heiress to the Ancient and Most Noble House of Sayre of North America and the Ancient and Most Noble Houses of Prince, Gaunt, and Slytherin of Europe.

Amelie is a genius prodigy. Her expertise in potions, herbology, and alchemy is nothing short of extraordinary, setting her apart from her peers. She claimed the title of the youngest master in these fields at the tender age of merely nine. Her intellectual prowess and unwavering dedication to honing her skills have gained her the admiration and respect of even the most seasoned scholars.

Her upbringing and social standing have made her a cherished figure within North America's elite circles. She effortlessly assumes her role as the darling of the upper echelons, commanding attention and admiration wherever she goes. Her every movement and gesture imbued with a natural elegance curtesy of her veela blood. They views her as a paragon of regal bearing, a symbol of refinement and nobility.

Yet despite all that she was acting like a whiny and childish brat right about now.

"No you talked, and I ignored you." Ophiuchus said in response clearly annoyed.

"You are the worse!" She huffed annoyed.

"Go cry about it." He rolled his eyes at her.

Ophiuchus then turned his attention to the pair of twins next to the fireplace playing chess with each other.

The flickering flames danced upon the strawberry blond curls that cascaded around their faces, accentuating their striking androgynous allure. Delicate tear drop beauty marks adorned the corners of their sharp and dangerous eyes, eyes that radiated a mesmerizing golden hue, symbolizing an otherworldly knowledge that extended far beyond mortal comprehension. Such ethereal beauty was not a mere accident but a masterpiece meticulously crafted by the hands of a master artisan, each feature honed and refined over years of careful cultivation.

Silas and Elias Nikolaev, Ophiuchus' shield and sword his sworn protectors, stood as his unwavering sentinels, guardians of his safety and seers of the unknown. In their unwavering loyalty, they had forged an unbreakable bond with the enigmatic figure, their lives intertwined with his inextricably. It was Ophiuchus who had plucked them from the jaws of a brutal, frozen storm, rescuing them from certain demise. Now, their very existence rested within the palm of his hand, an unspoken testament to the magnitude of his responsibility.

Silas and Elias, with their unparalleled insight into the future, were not mere pawns in Ophiuchus' grand design. They were his most trusted confidants, their minds attuned to the celestial whispers and the secrets of time itself. United by an unspoken pact, they stood as the vanguard of Ophiuchus' cause, their shared destinies intertwined in a dance of fate and prophecy. Their presence was a testament to the magnitude of his purpose, their unwavering loyalty a testament to the depth of their connection.

As Ophiuchus observed the mesmerizing game of chess, his eyes were drawn to the twins' uncanny ability to perceive the future.

Silas and Elias, their golden eyes shimmering with an otherworldly glow, possessed a gift that transcended the boundaries of ordinary mortals. With each move they made, it became clear that their actions were not guided solely by strategic prowess, but rather by a profound understanding of the events yet to unfold.