Once upon a time, in the kingdom of Aveloria, there was a young girl crowned far too early. Her name was Queen Elira, and though her crown glittered with diamonds, her heart carried the weight of a thousand stones.

Elira was only ten years old when the throne became hers. Her father, the great King Harwyn, had been a just and powerful ruler, and her mother, Queen Selene, was beloved by the people. But when illness swept through the castle and claimed them both, Elira stood alone in the great hall, her small hands trembling as the crown was placed upon her dark hair.

The lords and ladies bowed to her, but she could feel the doubt in their hearts. She is too young, they whispered behind silken fans. How can a child rule a kingdom?

But Elira listened not to their doubts. She had inherited her mother’s quiet wisdom and her father’s strength of spirit. Though she longed to play in the gardens with her dolls, she spent her mornings learning the laws of the realm, her afternoons riding across the fields to understand her land, and her evenings speaking with the people in the villages.

The people began to see her not as a child, but as a queen with a heart more noble than many grown rulers. She ruled with kindness but with firmness too. When greedy lords tried to take advantage of her youth, she surprised them with words sharper than any sword.

Still, Elira was lonely. At night, in her great chamber draped with velvet and gold, she would press her cheek against the window glass and whisper to the stars:

“I wish I had someone to guide me. Someone to stand beside me.”

And it seemed the stars heard her. For one night, as she wandered the castle gardens, she met a boy no older than herself, a stablehand with bright eyes and hands calloused from work. His name was Corin. Unlike the lords and knights, he did not bow deeply or stumble over titles—he simply looked at her and said, “You look lonely.”