The City of Valerion was alive with the roar of drums and the scent of roasting meats. The kingdom's banners flew high, and every sunset brought news of a new land conquered. Soldiers marched through the streets in polished bronze, their shields catching the orange light of the dying sun. From the palace balconies, the air felt thick with the cheers of thousands.
Far above the city, Princess Elara Magnus-Vaelor stood on a narrow stone ledge. Up here, the noise of the celebration was nothing more than a faint hum, like the buzzing of distant bees. As the only daughter of King Magnus, Elara was the heart of the kingdom. Her most striking feature was her hair—a thick river of midnight-black silk that flowed past her knees. It looked like a cloak made of shadows, swaying gracefully behind her as she moved.
Her skin possessed a strange, beautiful radiance; it did not just catch the light, but seemed to glow from within, appearing brighter than the lanterns in the palace hallways. This soft, golden light made her look vibrant and full of life, like a flower blooming in the sun.
When she looked at someone, her eyes acted like powerful magnets. They were deep and dark, pulling people in until they forgot the world around them. To complete her beauty, she carried a smile that was both elegant and incredibly sweet—a gentle expression that could calm any heart. In Valerion, she was more than a princess; she was a living light.
Elara was a soul of loyalty, grace, and keen observation, possessing a deep love for books and art. Every citizen held her in the highest respect.
As she stepped down from the ledge to meet her waiting maid, Elara sighed softly. "I want to fall in love," she said, her thoughts drifting to her favorite stories. "I want a love like Theo and Amber from The Mountain's Heart."
She headed toward her cousin, Crown Prince Alaric Voss Magnus-Vaelor, the man who would one day rule after her father. Alaric had just returned from leading the army for a month-long campaign in the North. It had been a difficult journey; his men had fought against dangerous bandits and cruel slave traders. Despite the war, he had made sure to visit the northern libraries just to find a gift for Elara.
When she saw him, Elara let out a soft laugh, her eyes pulling him into a mischievous gaze. "You're late, you know. The drums have been beating for hours. Tell me, did you bring any new books from the North, or must I settle for your company alone?"
"Is my company not enough for you, Elara?" Alaric joked. "You hurt my feelings! I thought I was your favorite cousin."
He pulled a small, leather-bound book from his bag and showed it to her with a wink. "Don't worry. I found this old book of stories in the North. I think you will like it even more than The Mountain's Heart."
He offered her his arm and smiled. "Now, shall we go to the victory party? Or are you going to stay here and read all night?".
Elara and Alaric smiled at each other and walked toward the party together. As they entered the great hall, Alaric stepped forward to fulfill his duty. He knelt on one knee and lowered his head in respect before the throne.
"The bandits have been cleared from the mountain passes, and the slave traders have been captured," Alaric reported, his voice steady. "The North is once again under your shadow, My King."
"Rise, Prince Alaric," King Magnus commanded. "You have done your duty to Valerion. The blood of your enemies secures our peace, and your courage brings honor to the Magnus-Vaelor name. Tonight, we do not just celebrate a victory; we celebrate a future King who knows how to protect his borders."
There was a deep history behind these words. Alaric was actually the son of the King's elder brother. Years ago, the previous King had chosen Magnus to take the throne instead of his older brother, who had been sickly since childhood. That brother had lived a quiet life in his room until he passed away at only eighteen, leaving behind his young son, Alaric.
When Magnus became King, he promised that Alaric would be the one to ascend the throne after him. Though Magnus had a soft spot for Alaric—treating him like his own son—he was a stern man and never showed his true feelings openly.
Two months passed. Peace had returned to Valerion, but it was interrupted when a messenger arrived from the South. He carried a letter bearing the seal of the Empress Dowager.
The news in the letter was so important that King Magnus immediately called for the Queen. His face was serious as he waited for her in the private solar. A message from the Southern Empire usually meant one of two things: a proposal for an alliance, or a declaration of a new threat.