That evening, as Cedric wandered the castle's grand corridors, trying to avoid yet another lecture from his tutors, a soft, melodic voice reached his ears. It was a voice he hadn't heard before, gentle yet full of warmth.
"Excuse me, young Viscount," the voice called out, and Cedric turned, startled.
There, standing in the shadows of an alcove, was a girl—no older than him, with hair the color of midnight and eyes that gleamed like stars in the dark. She wore a simple gown, unlike the lavish gowns of the court, and her feet were bare, as though she had just stepped out of the forest itself.
"Who are you?" Cedric asked, eyes narrowing. The castle was tightly guarded; no one was allowed to wander its halls without permission.
"I am someone who knows the burden of a royal name," she said with a mysterious smile. "I can see the weight on your shoulders, Viscount. A weight that none of your riches or titles will ever lift."
Cedric was taken aback. "And what do you suggest I do about it?" he asked, half in jest, half in frustration.
She tilted her head, a soft glint of amusement in her eyes. "Run away, of course."
The words struck Cedric like a spark to dry tinder. His heart beat faster as his thoughts raced. "But how?"
The girl's smile grew. "All you need is a bit of magic."