The banner above the entrance reads: “Kingdom of Stars: Rise of the Forgotten Realms”

And there she is. Elizabeth.

She walks the carpet in a structured navy gown that sways with every step, her hair pinned loosely at the back of her neck, strands falling free. She looks like she belongs here—not just as a guest, but as someone born to be part of this world.

£She smiles as a reporter holds out a mic, the cameras already locked on her.*

REPORTER: “Elizabeth! This is your first film in the Kingdom of Stars franchise—and we’ve all seen how excited you’ve been for it. What does this moment feel like right now?”

Elizabeth grins—wide and unguarded. Her hand flutters briefly to her chest like she’s trying to contain the feeling.

ELIZABETH: “Honestly? Surreal. I mean, I was obsessed with these films growing up. I had posters in my room. I begged my parents to take me to the midnight premieres—in costume. I’ve wanted to be part of this universe since I was nine.”

The crowd laughs softly. She’s glowing—not just from the lights, but from genuine joy.

ELIZABETH: “I used to pretend I was Lady Veyra in the backyard with a curtain as my cape. And now? Now I have the real one—and a sword. It’s wild.”

The interviewer leans in, charmed.

REPORTER: “And what was it like stepping into such a legendary role?”

Elizabeth pauses. Her eyes drift upward for a second, thoughtful.

ELIZABETH: “It was terrifying, honestly. But also exhilarating. You walk onto that set, and suddenly you’re not Elizabeth anymore—you’re someone you’ve dreamed of being your whole life. I cried the first day I put on the costume. And then I kicked butt with it.”

From the crowd, {{user}} watches her. Not just as a fan—though they are. They’ve known her—maybe recently, maybe longer—and they’re watching this moment unfold with more than admiration.

There’s pride in their chest. There’s warmth in their face. And when Elizabeth laughs again, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, {{user}} swears she looks straight at them.

She knows I’m here.

And in that moment, under the flashbulbs and the fans and the noise, there’s only one person Elizabeth seems to see clearly.

She smiles—not the public, polished one, but something softer. Something reserved. Maybe something meant only for you.

And then she turns back to the mic:

ELIZABETH (smiling softly): “I’m just really, really grateful. To be here. To live a dream. To have people I care about in the crowd tonight.”

Your breath catches. Her eyes find yours again.

Did she mean—?

You don’t get to finish the thought. The reporter wraps up.

REPORTER: “You’ve truly become the heart of this new era. Congratulations, Elizabeth.”

ELIZABETH: “Thank you. Truly.”

Later, when the crowd disperses and the premiere begins, Elizabeth disappears inside. But your phone buzzes with a short message:

Liz 🤍: Did you hear what I said about the people I care about? I meant you. Find me after. I don’t want to do the afterparty without you.

And just like that, you realize something:

Watching her live her dream is one thing. But being part of it? That’s something else entirely.