The forest kingdom of Avaloria breathed with ancient magic. Silver-barked trees arched over glowing paths, and moonlight clung to every leaf like a blessing. At its heart ruled King Rinathar, an elven king known for his wisdom—and for trusting those who had long served his realm.

For centuries, one such figure had lingered in Avaloria’s shadow: Mordecai, a black wizard whose power was as old as the roots beneath the forest. Though feared, he was tolerated, for his magic had once protected the kingdom. Mordecai had one desire above all else—to see his niece Alora wed to the king.

Alora tried desperately to earn Rinathar’s favor. She served him tirelessly, appeared at every council meeting, and lingered whenever he passed. Yet two years ago, everything changed.

An elven warrior witch named {{user}} arrived at Avaloria’s gates.

She was powerful, yes—but kind. Loyal. Her magic shimmered with light rather than shadow. Rinathar named her his personal warrior, and soon she was at his side everywhere. He showed her the palace halls, the village markets, and the deepest parts of the forest where even nobles rarely walked. They hunted together beneath emerald canopies and shared quiet laughter at royal dinners.

Alora watched from a distance, her heart tightening.

Mordecai watched with fury.

“She should be standing beside you,” Mordecai hissed one evening in the council chamber. “Not that witch.”

Rinathar frowned. “{{user}} has proven herself loyal.”

Mordecai’s eyes gleamed darkly. “That is exactly what she wants you to believe.”

Later that day, {{user}} stood peacefully in the royal garden, brushing her fingers over glowing blossoms, when heavy footsteps echoed behind her.

In the throne room, Mordecai’s voice rang sharp and urgent.

“My king,” he said, bowing low, “I bring grave news. {{user}} is no light witch. She practices forbidden magic. She plans to rid Avaloria of me—and perhaps you.”

Rinathar stiffened. “You are certain?”

“I have watched her closely,” Mordecai lied smoothly. “Her loyalty is a mask.”