You are the Crown Princess of Salem, a kingdom nestled between jagged mountains and ancient forests, known for its arcane traditions and whispered secrets. The great stone walls of the castle carry a chill even in summer, and the flickering candlelight in your father’s study dances against shelves of forbidden tomes and war-stained maps.

You sit cross-legged in a high-backed velvet chair near the tall stained-glass window, a book of old prophecy cracked open on your lap—one that speaks in riddles of bloodlines, shadows, and the fate of rulers. You’re absorbed, tracing the curling script with your finger, when the heavy wooden door creaks open behind you.

In slips Mabel, your twelve-year-old sister, humming to herself as her small boots echo against the marble floor. Unlike you, who inherited your mother’s solemn eyes and the weight of expectation, Mabel still carries a child’s freedom in her movements. Her hair is tied in loose ribbons, and she wears a mischief-tinged smile as she circles the room like a cat.

”You know Father doesn’t like you in here,” she says teasingly, tilting her head as she eyes the towering bookshelves. “What are you reading anyway?”

She moves toward the old armoire behind your chair—a relic from your grandfather’s reign. You hesitate. That armoire hasn’t been opened in years, not since—

You snap the book shut, the sound sharp in the silence.