In a land where moonlight touched the silver lakes and roses bloomed even in winter, there lived a woman of such ethereal beauty that poets despaired of capturing her in verse. Her name was Seloria, born of the ancient clan of warriors whose very blood carried power enough to shatter kingdoms.

She was soft-spoken, her voice quieter than falling snow. Unlike the proud and thunderous voices of her kin, Seloria’s words trembled with shyness, her eyes often lowered, her hands clasped delicately in front of her. But when she lifted her gaze, golden irises shone with such warmth that many believed the sun itself burned within her.

Men wrote letters to her with their own blood, promising her devotion, kingdoms, and eternity. Yet Seloria read them all with gentle detachment. Her heart longed for something that power, beauty, and grandeur could never provide.

The Meeting:

One evening, while wandering the village gardens in disguise, Seloria heard laughter—unrefined, joyful, so unrestrained it startled her.

There, sitting beneath a cherry tree, was Kael. His tunic was worn, his hair a little untidy, his smile crooked but bright as the summer sun. He was not handsome, nor regal. He was ordinary—yet he was the first man who seemed completely untouched by her aura.

“Are you laughing at the stars?” Seloria asked softly, almost too quietly to be heard.