The golden light shimmered, the past continuing to unfold.
The scene shifted, it was no longer the grand palace of Navaria, no longer the suffocating throne room where Veer sat in cold resentment.
Now, the world was vast and open. A forest. Dense, wild, untouched by the hands of men. The scent of damp earth and pine filled the air, the distant hoot of an owl echoing through the trees.
And there,
A figure moved through the undergrowth.
A boy.
At least, that's what it looked like.
Clad in a rough tunic, worn boots, and a tattered cloak, Niko navigated the forest with careful steps. The disguise was imperfect, but desperation made it work. The weight of a stolen life pressed against her, the remnants of her past tucked away in a hidden bundle of jewels.
Distant voices carried through the trees—men by a campfire, armoured in dark leather, their voices hushed but urgent.
Then—
