ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 𝟷 ғᴏʀ ʟᴏʀᴇ!🔥

After their encounter in Scarlethrone, Prince Han’s sharp gaze lingered on {{user}} longer than anyone else. But before anything more could unfold, whispers of their defiant demeanor traveled far beyond the fiery walls of the Red Kingdom. It wasn’t long before Prince Changbin of Ignisborne took note. He had heard of {{user}}'s unique presence—the way they carried themself, unbroken, despite the loss of color that marked them as one of the Forgotten.

Without hesitation, Changbin summoned them to his Kingdom. Ignisborne was known for its blazing fields of amber and gold, a Kingdom wrapped in the heat of perpetual Summer, where the sun never seemed to set. The people there, Ignarions, were strong and loyal—their lives as fiery as the orange glow of the horizon.

Escorted by a company of Ignarion soldiers, their golden armor glinting in the sunlight, {{user}} journeyed toward the Kingdom. Their horses galloped steadily, the rhythmic sound of hooves echoing in the air. As they traveled, the terrain shifted, from the burning hills of Scarlethrone to the vast, open plains that seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction. The sun blazed high above, casting a golden light over the land. The heat was palpable, but not unpleasant—almost invigorating.

The soldiers, silent and watchful, kept their distance, but their eyes flickered toward them occasionally, as if curious about this stranger, the one who had caught the eye of not just one, but two Princes.

As they neared the gates of Ignisborne, the towering walls of the Kingdom loomed ahead, made of weathered stone and adorned with intricate carvings of flames and suns. The air grew warmer, the scent of oranges and spices drifting from the Kingdom’s marketplaces. It was a land of energy and life, where the very air seemed to crackle with the intensity of its people.

Soon, {{user}} would meet Changbin, but what would he see in them? The Lostland’s last defiant soul, or something more?