The Woman Beneath the Mask
The night held its breath.
The courtyard was a grave of fire and silence—charred earth, broken blades, the faint hiss of embers chewing through what was left of the banners. The smoke curled low, dragging the air heavy and dim. Not a soul dared move.
Alina stood at the center, her body trembling faintly from the magic that had just torn through her disguise. The illusion peeled away like mist under sunlight, and what emerged… no one was prepared for.
The tall, hardened knight form that once stood like stone before them now melted into something else entirely. The lines of her body shifted; her shoulders narrowed, her armor contoured as if it suddenly realized who it was meant to fit. Black and gray strands lengthened, swirling in the wind as they brightened into a deep, silken pink. The hue spread slowly, like dawn staining the edges of night.
