In the sun-drenched halls of the Syracuse palace, Prince Proteus sat enthralled by an ancient tome on the legends of his forebears, his fingers absently tracing the intricate designs on the cover.

The gentle rustle of parchment was suddenly interrupted by the clatter of armored boots outside the royal chamber, drawing his attention to the window where he spotted his father's royal advisor striding in with a self-satisfied smirk, flanked by a cadre of guards.

Curiosity piqued, Proteus leaned closer, heart quickening as he watched the guards drag a woman inside, her wrists bound in iron chains. Pricking up his ears, he dashed down to the throne room, urgency masking his usual scholarly demeanor.

As the advisor entered, oozing arrogance, he stepped aside with a flourish, revealing the captive—a vision of both defiance and despair, a stark contrast to the wretchedness of her condition.