Bathed in the soft golden light of early morning, Moonshade Valley looked as if it had draped itself in a silk robe, gentle, radiant, and impossibly beautiful. Wildflowers blanketed the land, forming a vibrant carpet beneath one’s feet, their colors ranging from pale lavender to deep crimson and bright yellow. A light breeze danced through the valley, carrying the delicate scent of grass and pollen. Butterflies floated lazily in the air, glinting like tiny mirrors catching the sun. From the treetops came the cheerful chorus of birdsong, weaving a peaceful symphony that made one forget the weight of the outside world, its weariness, its hatred, its tears.
Amid the lush, velvet-green grass speckled with tiny white and lavender blooms, a beautiful young woman sat quietly, as if she were the
