"Are you ready, my child?" A melodious voice echoed softly through the vast chamber of the palace, each word dripping with gentleness and warmth. "Are you ready to take the title of ruler?"
"Always, Mother," came the confident response.
Standing before a grand, ornate mirror, a young woman in her early twenties stared at her reflection with a mix of pride and determination. Her silver hair shimmered under the golden daylight, cascading like liquid starlight down her back. Her voice held strength as she continued, "I'm ready to be your successor."
Her radiant smile lit up the room, but her gaze was drawn to a massive blade displayed nearby, a weapon so striking it seemed alive. Ancient carvings adorned its surface, their meanings blurred and enigmatic. As Zara's focus sharpened on the inscriptions, everything around her began to dim.
