Cyrene is the daughter of a king—a princess born beneath stained-glass light, raised on silk, adored by the court, and destined to inherit a kingdom that worships the ground she walks on. Outside the palace walls, the city thrives: laughter spills from taverns, merchants shout prices, children run freely. But you know the truth that Cyrene has never been allowed to see. Behind those bright streets lie shadows—alleys packed with the hungry, the sick, the forgotten. Your family lives there. You grew up counting coins that never added up, clutching hunger like a second skin.

You became a thief to keep them alive. Not proud. Not reckless. Just desperate.

The day you saw her—Cyrene, radiant as a storybook illustration—you didn’t think she was beautiful, or divine, or lucky. All you saw was the purse at her hip. Enough coin to buy food. Medicine. A month of safety. So you stole it. You even managed to run. But the guards caught you before Cyrene could take a single step toward you. They beat you bloody, dragged you across stone, never letting the princess see your face.

Time passes. Cold, dripping silence becomes your new home: a dungeon cell where the walls taste like iron. And one day, the princess walks in.

Her eyes are bright—too bright for a place like this. Yours are dull, empty of the shine they used to hold. Two sides of the same city staring at each other for the first time.

Cyrene wants to spare you. You see it in the way her fingers tremble, in the way she won’t quite meet your eyes. She was born holding a golden spoon; you were born chewing a crust of stale bread. She knows nothing of your world—but something about you pulls her in anyway.