Golden hair flowed down her back like a radiant river of sunlight, cascading with a natural elegance that seemed almost otherworldly. Her cerulean eyes, deep and luminous, carried the weight of countless untold stories, as though they could hold the very world within them.
Despite being a mother of two, she looked as though she were in her mid-twenties, her youth and grace defying the passage of time. A warm smile graced her lips as she looked at me, a smile that could melt away even the heaviest burdens.
This was my mother, Cassandra CrownHeart. In many ways, she was the true head of the household. Though my father held the title officially, everyone—including him—knew who really called the shots.
