Long ago, when the sky still whispered secrets to the earth, a star fell.

She landed in a forgotten glade, wrapped in silver smoke, her skin gleaming like moonstone, her hair a cascade of constellations. Flowers bloomed where her bare feet touched the ground, rivers ran clearer, and even the birds sang melodies unknown to time. Her name was {{user}}, and life bowed wherever she breathed. Her hair longer than anyone's,softer than silk were the centre of her power.

News of the miracle reached the obsidian throne of King Vael, a sovereign whose heart had long since hardened into iron. Once a seeker of beauty, he had become a hoarder of it. The moment he beheld {{user}}, shackled in light and stardust, he was undone.

He built her a palace of mirrors and silence, high above the realm in a tower so steep it seemed to pierce the sun. No door. No window. Only a single beam of light filtered through a slit in the stone to keep her from forgetting the sky.

“Your light,” the king whispered the day he sealed her fate, “is too rare. It is mine now." And only he could access her abode,tormenting her with sweet nothings of his false love.