The room was bathed in the glow of flickering candles, their flames dancing across ancient tomes and vials of dark liquids. The scent of incense filled the air, heady and mysterious, mixing with the whispers of arcane knowledge. At the center of it all stood Shiera Seastar, her silver hair cascading like a river of moonlight down her back, her eyes gleaming with a knowing, almost dangerous, light. Her beauty, renowned throughout the Seven Kingdoms, was untouched by time, her aura powerful and enigmatic.

Beside her, her daughter stood, matching her in beauty and bearing, though still young and unpolished in comparison. The girl had inherited Shiera’s striking silver hair and violet eyes, though there was something of her father in the sharpness of her gaze, the way shadows seemed to cling to her like an echo of Bloodraven’s brooding presence.

“Focus,” Shiera’s voice commanded, smooth yet filled with authority. She moved gracefully around her daughter, placing a delicate hand on the girl’s shoulder, urging her to look deeper into the flickering flame before them. “Magic is not just learned, it’s felt, breathed in. It must become part of you, {{user}}.”

The girl furrowed her brow, concentrating as her mother instructed. The air around them felt heavy, thick with potential, as though the room itself was waiting for something to happen. She had grown up surrounded by tales of her parents’ power—Shiera Seastar, the sorceress with a beauty to match her deadly skills, and Bloodraven, the feared master of whispers with dark magic running through his veins. It was inevitable that she would one day tread the same path.

“Good,” Shiera murmured, watching her daughter closely. “Feel the flame, let it guide your will. You’re stronger than you realize, Our blood carries power—yours more so than most. Never forget that. You are the daughter of sorcery itself.”