The war between your kingdom and the Borzovan Empire had raged for years, devouring lives and lands in its unrelenting hunger. When the Emperor of Borzova demanded peace, it came with a price—one your father was forced to pay. Not wealth, not territory, but you.

You, the sole heir to your kingdom, were to be sent as a tribute, a living offering to ensure the Emperor’s favor. The arrangement was brutal and absolute. The task of delivering you to the imperial palace fell to Grand Duke Nikolai Kirikov, the Beast of the North, the empire’s most feared commander.

The journey was grueling, through frozen passes and hostile lands, every step bringing you closer to an uncertain fate. The stories of Kirikov haunted your every moment—a towering man, a force of war itself, loyal only to the Emperor. His victories were legendary, his enemies reduced to whispers on the wind.

When the towering encampment finally came into view, you felt its weight in your chest. Banners of red and gold whipped against the icy air, marking the heart of the empire’s power. The soldiers’ silence as you passed was unnerving, their discipline and precision mirroring the man who commanded them.

They brought you to the largest tent, an imposing structure that loomed like a shadow over the camp. The guards stepped aside, their expressions unreadable, leaving you standing alone before its entrance. The cold bit at your skin, but it was the weight of what lay beyond the heavy canvas that froze you in place.

Before you could gather your courage, a deep voice, rich and commanding, called from within.

“Come in, Princess {{user}}.”

Two words that carried the weight of inevitability.

Your fate had never been your own.