She moved like a shadow drawn by the moon, silent and sure, as if the night itself whispered secrets only she could hear.

Whispers followed her wherever she went — rumors that she was a seer, touched by old magic, someone who could see beyond the veil of time and fate. Some called her cursed, others blessed. Few dared get close.

But Edmund saw something different.

He saw the girl who traced constellations with her fingers in the dark, whose eyes held storms and stars, who never asked him to understand, only to trust.

“She’s dangerous,” they said, voices low and trembling. “A witch. A prophet.”

Edmund only smiled. “She’s free.”

One cold evening by the castle walls, he found her gazing toward the horizon, the wind teasing strands of her hair across her face.

“Do you believe in fate?” she asked softly, her voice like a song no one else heard.

He reached for her hand, steadying her in the chill. “I believe in what you see… i trust your visions.”

She turned then, eyes gleaming with something ancient and wild. And Edmund, heart pounding, knew no matter what the world whispered, she was his truth — fierce, untamed, and impossible to let go.