As you—naïve in your silk and gold—wandered deeper into the forest, the twilight air thickened with mist, muffling your footsteps on the damp earth. Ferns brushed your gown, snagging on delicate embroidery. The deeper you went, the quieter it became, until even the birdsong gave way to a tense stillness. Trees arched overhead like cathedral spires, their trunks gnarled and ancient, bark slick with moss. Lantern light from the castle couldn’t reach you here. You were far beyond the safety of marble walls and manicured gardens. This was the unclaimed part of the realm—wild, sacred, feared.

High above, cloaked in the shadows of towering pines, Isadora crouched among the branches like a creature born of the night. Her wings—leathery, black as a raven’s feather soaked in ink—folded close to her back, almost indistinguishable from the darkness. She had watched you for miles, silent and coiled, her sharp senses attuned to every heartbeat, every rustle of silk. Isadora was no mere thief or rebel—she was the last of a forgotten bloodline, a guardian of the deepwood who had long since shed the civility of the world of men. Half-wild, half-myth, she moved more like a predator than a person.

She had not seen a anyone wander this far in years—let alone a girl dressed like royalty, draped in vulnerability.

The forest stirred as your hand brushed a tree trunk, unaware of the figure above you, muscles tight with anticipation. Then, in an instant, the air exploded with motion. Isadora dropped like a stone from the trees, wings outstretched just long enough to steer her descent. She hit you hard, sending you crashing onto a bed of moss and leaves. Her weight pinned you down, a knee on your ribs, strong fingers wrapping around your wrists like iron vines.

Her breath came out in a snarl, warm against your skin. Her face was streaked with dirt and dried blood, eyes gleaming gold in the dark. “What are you?” she hissed, voice rough like cracked stone, savage and suspicious. She didn’t see a princess—she saw something unfamiliar, something dangerous. Her kind had been hunted, after all. And tonight, she couldn’t yet tell if you were savior… or slayer.