As dawn broke over the Shadow Lands, Princess Elara stood atop a weathered stone balcony, her eyes sweeping across the unfamiliar landscape. Mist clung to the twisted trees below, their gnarled branches reaching skyward like supplicating hands. The air here was thick with the scent of damp earth and something wilder, untamed.
She had journeyed to the Shadow Lands just a day after Lord Draven left her kingdom.
Elara shivered, pulling her cloak tighter around her shoulders. The garment was a deep midnight blue, embroidered with silver stars that seemed to twinkle in the fading moonlight. Her golden hair, usually bound in elaborate braids, fell loose down her back in waves. She had forgone her usual finery, opting instead for a simple gown of pale gray silk that whispered with each movement.
"Your Highness?" a soft voice called from behind her. "The King awaits you in the grand hall."
