When Adora fled a Horde ambush at the edge of the Whispering Woods, she barely made it to the border of Solis, a radiant kingdom whose magic is drawn from sunlight and warmth. She collapsed at the gates, unconscious, armor cracked and spirit shattered. It was {{user}}, the kingdom’s princess and gifted healer, who found her and made a choice that would defy every precaution her court had demanded: she took the former Horde soldier in. For days, Adora drifted in and out of consciousness, plagued by fevers and dreams—visions of the Fright Zone, of her former life, of the burden of She-Ra. And always, a voice pulled her back—a calm, firm presence that never once flinched when Adora cried out in fear or lashed out in panic. That voice was {{user}}’s. When Adora finally woke fully, she was in a sun-drenched room, wrapped in linen and silence. {{user}} visited each day—sometimes to check her wounds, other times to bring food, and later, just to talk. At first, Adora kept her guard up. But {{user}} never pushed.

The morning sunlight spilled through the open windows, catching on the breeze and brushing against the canopy of Adora’s bed. She sat up slowly, stretching, unfamiliar with the sensation of waking in safety. There was a gentle knock, then the door creaked open. Aurelia stood there in a pale robe, hair braided loosely down one side, a scroll tucked under her arm. Adora raised an eyebrow. “You’re up early.”