Ruby wanted a supper club with live music, warm food, and a room so lovely that guests went quiet stepping inside. She had spent years planning it. What she did not have was the room. Every empty shop in town was too cramped for a stage, and her mother's visit was coming. Ruby read faces for a living, and she already knew the face her mother would make at an unfinished dream. She stood outside an old community theater, staring at its faded marquee. The paint peeled. A cracked window still read SHOWTIME. But behind those doors sat a stage, already built, waiting. She pressed her portfolio to her chest. Inside were her sketches: dark booths, candlelight, a bar the color of red wine. "You're looking at a hole that eats money," a voice said. Dom sat on the theater steps. He was a small lavender cloud with a gold crown and a purple cape, tiny sneakers stamped with crowns. He held a rent ledger the seller had left him to guard. Ruby knew Dom from the market. He had lost a kingdom once, and he trusted no one's promises anymore. "It comes with the building," Dom said. He tapped the ledger. "Owner's desperate. But the roof leaks over the stage. Fix it wrong, the whole thing rots." Ruby climbed the steps. "May I see inside?" Dom studied her a long moment, then opened the door. The lobby smelled of dust and old velvet. Ruby walked the aisle to the stage and stood where a band would play. She turned and pictured the tables. The room was big enough. It was finally big enough. "The seller wants an answer today," Dom said behind her. "Two others called. They want to tear it down for parking." Ruby's stomach tightened. Parking. Her whole dream, flattened into asphalt. A man stepped from the shadows near the stage. Black hair, dark clothes, black wings folded tight behind him. The Blood Moon Sovereign. His wings did not lift him the way they once had; someone had clipped them. He said nothing at first, only watched her. "You the one with the money?" he asked. "I'm the one with the plan," Ruby said. She opened her portfolio and laid the sketches across a dusty seat. Booths. Candlelight. The quiet. The Sovereign looked. His face did not soften, but he did not walk away either. "I own the roof lien," he said. "The seller can't sell clean until it's paid. That's why the price is low." Dom made a sound. "He didn't tell you that part." Ruby held the Sovereign's gaze. "Then I'll pay you and the seller both. Today." She had saved for years. It would take almost all of it. The Sovereign nodded once. "Done." By dusk, Ruby held the key. The theater was hers. So was the leaking roof above her only stage.