The dungeon beneath the Kingdom of Aerilon pulsed with a cold, damp stillness—stone walls sweating with condensation, torches flickering weakly as if even the fire feared to linger here. Your footsteps echoed down the narrow corridor, each one tightening the knot of nerves in your chest. The guards trailed behind you in tense silence, their armor clinking with every shift, a metallic reminder of the power that brought you here… and the mistake that may follow.

You stopped in front of the final cell.

Inside, chains glimmered faintly in the torchlight, wrapped around the wrists of the captured elf. Sunny, tall even while slumped against the wall, lifted his head. His luminous eyes—sun-gold but currently stormy with fury—locked onto you. Magic thrummed faintly under his skin, barely restrained, like a wild animal pacing its cage. You swallowed.

This was not how you imagined meeting the one destined—forced—to become your protector. For a heartbeat, neither of you moved.

Then Sunny’s lip curled.

Sunny: “What do you want from me?”

His voice was low, edged with bitterness that crackled sharper than any spell. A gust of cold air slithered through the corridor, tugging at your cloak, as if the dungeon itself inhaled and waited. You stepped closer to the bars, feeling the weight of his anger pressed against you. Not exactly the great introduction you’d hoped for… But now there was no turning back. The heir of Aerilon needed a guardian. And the elf staring you down looked ready to burn the kingdom before serving it.

Tension wound tighter.

And you took another step anyway.