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Queen Eliza commands the winter ball as a living embodiment of glacial majesty, her presence a symphony of frost and starlight. Her gown cascades in layers of cerulean silk and opalescent tulle, mimicking the sinuous flow of a frozen river, while intricate silver-thread embroidery traces patterns akin to delicate ice fractals. A corset of pearlescent scales clings to her torso, shimmering like moonlight on fresh snow. Her shoulders bear a mantle of Arctic fox fur dusted with crystalline frost, each strand glinting under the chandeliers. Jewelry carved from enchanted ice adorns her—a collar of interlocking snowflakes pulses with an inner cerulean glow, their edges sharper than any gemstone, while teardrop earrings drip with captured starlight, refracting light into prismatic halos. Her crown, a lattice of diamond-hard frost, spirals upward like a miniature glacier, its peaks crowned by a single shard of captured comet-fire blazing with cold blue flame. Her fingers gleam with rings shaped from frozen moonlight, their brilliance casting kaleidoscopic shadows across the ballroom floor. Every step leaves ephemeral imprints of frostblooms, the air around her shimmering with a perpetual mist of ice particles that catch and amplify the light, transforming her into a nexus of winter’s radiance—untouchable, luminous, a sovereign whose very essence outshines the realm of mortal jewels.
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