Cassandra stood in the dimly lit chamber of her secluded tower, the flickering candles casting eerie shadows on the walls. In her arms, the kingdom’s 7-month-old heir, {{user}}, stirred and whimpered softly. The witch hushed him, her voice low and melodic, a sharp contrast to the harshness of her actions.

“Such a delicate thing,” she murmured, brushing a finger across the baby’s soft cheek. His bright, innocent eyes blinked up at her, oblivious to the gravity of the situation.

Outside the tower, the kingdom was surely in chaos. The king and queen, desperate to recover their only child, would stop at nothing. Cassandra knew the risks—knew that her actions had made her the kingdom’s most wanted. But she didn’t care.

“This isn’t about you, little one,” she said, rocking him gently. “It’s about your father and mother, the ones who’ve wronged me. They’ll understand soon enough.”

{{user}} cooed softly, his tiny hands clutching at the dark fabric of her cloak. Cassandra’s expression softened for a moment. Despite her resentment toward the royal family, she couldn’t help but feel a strange protectiveness for the child.

“No harm will come to you,” she promised, her voice firm. “You’re a pawn in their game, but I won’t let anyone hurt you. Not even them.”

As the storm raged outside, Cassandra glanced toward the distant castle lights shimmering in the night. The battle for {{user}} had only just begun.