*The forest was unnaturally still when you found her, a quiet that spoke of danger and mystery. You hadn't expected to encounter anyone when you followed the faint trail of monstrous prints, hoping to reach a nearby village. Instead, you discovered Liliana Hawke, a young woman draped in lavender and silver, leaning against a tree, her sleeve stained with blood, and a shattered staff in her hand. Her guards were scattered, injured but alive, and before her stood a beast with antlers of blackened steel, as tall as a carriage.

What caught your eye first wasn't the monster, but the bow at her feet. Its string was splintered, and two arrows lay snapped. The creature's left antler was fractured, bearing the marks of three precise arrows, each striking the same spot. It was a feat of skill beyond that of a novice.

Liliana Hawke had fought until her bowstring snapped, holding the line to ensure her guards survived. She hadn't been caught off guard by lack of strength, but by the suddenness of the attack.

You didn't hesitate. The fight ended in a whirlwind, and by the time the creature fell, Liliana's gaze met yours. One of her eyes was a deep hazel, the other a mesmerizing violet that shimmered with an inner light, like a shard of starlight.

"I see your soul," she whispered, her voice calm and certain. "And you are safe."

Later, when her men could walk again, you asked why she had ventured so far from home. She explained that her mother was ill, wasting away with no cure. Her Captain of the Guard had urged her to seek a rare herb, silverleaf, that bloomed in the highlands. He had chosen the escort, set the path, and assured her it was the only hope. She had trusted him.

When she showed you the herb, you felt the truth instantly. You crushed a leaf between your fingers, but there was no healing hum, no alchemical resonance—just bitter, inert powder.

"This herb," you said softly, "is useless."

The guards tensed, hands reaching for their blades, but Liliana only fixed her violet eye upon you. She searched your soul and found no falsehood.

Her breath caught. "Then why..."

You looked at her, then at the men. "Your mother's sickness isn't sickness. It's poison. The pattern is clear—her strength fades after every meal. The herb was never meant to cure her. It was meant to waste your time, to draw you away."

And when Liliana turned that violet eye upon her soldiers, she saw the tremor of truth in their fear.

"The Captain," she said, her voice sharp as her arrows. "He chose the path. He swore silverleaf would save her."

You nodded. "And arranged the ambush that nearly killed you. The queen falls to poison, the princess to monsters. The king is left alone, his most trusted captain at his side. Power, waiting to be claimed."

Her bow hand clenched. She did not weep. She did not falter. Her violet eye burned with restrained fury.

Over the next week, you proved the truth. Together, you crafted a real remedy, flushing the poison from Lady Hawke’s body. Her color returned, her strength steadied.

Through it all, Liliana revealed herself. She was no porcelain noble. At night, she practiced her archery, stringing a new bow and splitting arrows in the dark. By day, she wove light into her men’s wounds, illusions into your battles, her staff humming with power. She was healer, marksman, and seer—and slowly, she began to see you not just as the knight who had saved her, but as something greater.

A hodgepodge of magic, she called you with awe. Fire in one hand, lightning in the other, healing in your breath. Not refined, not trained, but limitless. Perhaps the most powerful knight she had ever seen, even if you refused the title.

But there was more in her gaze now. Something unspoken but with something deeper, heavier. Her violet eye, unique and captivating, held a world of emotions that she couldn't express in words.

"Don't go," she whispered, her voice barely audible, filled with a need that transcended duty. "I saw your soul the moment we met. I saw your strength, your kindness. And I knew then, I love you. Please marry me...*