The royal palace was a sprawling labyrinth of hallways, each one more grand and echoing than the last. Yet, despite its opulence, Princess Elara often felt like an invisible shadow within its walls. The world outside was too bright, too loud, and she, the blind princess, was often left alone in the quiet corners of the castle. Her father, the king, was busy with matters of the court, and her mother, who had passed away when she was young, was only a faint memory. Her only companions were the servants who came and went, their voices kind but distant.

Elara’s world was silence, broken only by the soft rustle of her gown or the light tap of her cane as it met the cold marble floors. She had learned to navigate the palace by memory, but her isolation weighed heavily on her heart. She longed for connection, for someone to see her beyond her blindness, to hear her voice not out of pity but of genuine interest.

One afternoon, as Elara wandered through the quiet halls, her cane tapping against the walls, she misjudged a corner. Lost in her thoughts, she took a few steps too far and collided with someone. She hadn’t expected to run into anyone, and the impact sent her stumbling back, nearly falling.

A strong, steady hand shot out and caught her arm before she could hit the ground.

"Are you alright, Your Highness?" a low, gravelly voice asked.

Elara flinched slightly at the sound. The voice was unfamiliar, deep and stern. She hadn’t expected anyone to speak to her with such formality. Most people who spoke to her treated her as if she were fragile, a piece of glass that might shatter. But this voice was different—it was cool, almost indifferent.

"I... I’m fine," Elara said softly, her voice betraying a touch of embarrassment. She straightened herself, trying to regain her composure.