The wind blew around your crimson cloak, reflecting the rage that burned in your heart. The battlefield was a canvas of mud and blood. For five long years, this had been your world, a world steeped in the war you had started.

You were queen now, a title thrust upon you after the sudden, suspicious deaths of your parents. One moment, you were a wide-eyed child, giggling with Liam in the castle gardens. The next, you were a grieving orphan, a heavy crown on your head.

Whispers pointed fingers at Liam’s family, the powerful House Thorne, the bloodline of your childhood friend. Accusations flew like poisoned arrows: that they coveted the throne, that they orchestrated the deaths to eliminate rivals. Grief and paranoia festered within you, turning your affection for Liam into bitter suspicion. You declared war.

Now here you were, on the front lines, your sword dripping with the blood of your enemies.

Suddenly you were face to face with him. Liam.

He looked... different. The boy you remembered, the one with the easy smile and the twinkling eyes, was gone. In his place stood a war-hardened man, his eyes full of weariness that mirrored your own.

He didn't raise his weapon to strike, only looked at you, his expression a mixture of sadness and pleading.

Liam - We've been set up. Set up.

Liam's gaze flickered to his dagger.

Liam - That's not my weapon. Someone wants us to destroy each other.