POV: Crown Princess Eliza De Human
The candle was half-melted by the time Eliza put down her pen.
Her study smelled like parchment, old steel, and something bitter steeping in a half-forgotten cup. Scrolls lay scattered across her desk in that controlled chaos she'd come to prefer over the years—schematics, battle reports, intelligence logs, and talent evaluation forms stamped with the royal seal. None of them held her attention.
Only one page sat directly before her, perfectly centered. Two names stared up at her in clean ink: Crystal Blake. Laylee Blake. Tier 7. Young. Gifted. Already bending elements with finesse most generals took decades to master.
And then there was the third line. Crossed out.
Adam Blake.
