Morning sunlight streamed through a fractured canopy of birch and pine, illuminating dust motes dancing in the still air. The heir—Aria—found no solace in the gentle warmth. Her heart hammered with remnants of last night’s frantic chase, the echoes of condemnation from Stormborn warriors still ringing in her ears.
She stood at the edge of a clearing, half-expecting new pursuers to burst from the tree line. Instead, a lone figure emerged: Kyra, one of the few friends Aria had kept since childhood. She wore a worn leather vest and carried no weapon but the ache in her eyes.
“Aria,” Kyra said softly. Her voice trembled with equal parts worry and desperation. “I’ve been searching everywhere for you. You vanished, and all these rumors… you’ve got the packs at each other’s throats.”
Aria turn
