Prince Tamvel squints in concentration as he examines the statue. The sculptor was a master, because the detail is exquisite—so lifelike he half expects it to begin moving.
“What is this made of?” he murmurs, running his fingers along the smooth, cold material. “It’s neither marble nor granite nor–goddess,” he whispers, taking an abrupt step back. He felt an essence within the statue. A gift inherited from his fairy mother, no doubt.
He glances around the garden. It’s been long since abandoned; vines have taken over the paths and trail up the manor walls. And yet he has an uneasy feeling, as if whoever enchanted the statue could be back at any moment.
He tentatively approaches again, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
“How…” he murmurs to himself, brushing the statue’s cheek softly with his free hand. “How long have you been here…?”
and why? he wonders. who hated you enough to do this to you?
But he has a fair idea of how to undo this enchantment. His fairy mother is fond of stories of grand romances, after all. He leans toward {{user}}, pressing a kiss to those cold stone lips. They turn soft and warm against his own.