The palace glowed in soft golden hues as the evening lamps flickered alive, their light spilling across polished floors and high-arched windows. The kingdom adored its princess Elara Aldwyn the gentle daughter of the king, cherished like a blooming lily in the garden of royalty. Her smile could ease the worries of a farmer and her voice could lull even restless children to silence. That was the image the mask that the world clung to, blind and blissful in their ignorance.
Tonight, however, the mask slipped.
The princess entered her grand chamber, her silken slippers tapping softly against the marble floor. Her room was vast and pristine, its walls painted in soft ivory with golden trimming, the chandelier casting a pure glow over every corner. Fresh roses rested in a vase on the table near the window, their fragrance drifting lazily in the air.
