"We are silence in the flame,
Names forgotten, none to claim.
Slay the beast, become the blade,
Feel nothing. Leave what can't be saved."
Noor of Xandrellia was born to rule.
The daughter of the Hunter Queen, she carried her mother's legacy like a torch in the night.
Loved by her people, her name was whispered with hope and pride.
She wasn't just a queen — she was their light in the dark.
But beneath the crown, behind the warm smile, something restless stirred.
A shadow she kept hidden — even from herself.
Noor's kingdom believed in her strength, her kindness, her fire.
What they didn't know was the secret bleeding inside her blood.
And the hunt she couldn't escape.
Noor sat on the cold stone roof of the palace, the night air wrapping around her like a silent friend. The moon hung low and full, casting pale light over Xandrellia's sleeping kingdom. She stared up at it, thoughts tangled like the shadows creeping across the walls.
Her mother had died the day she was born — a queen lost before her reign even began. Raised by her aunt Irene, who wore kindness like a mask, Noor had learned early what it meant to hide. To cover.
Her left arm, always wrapped in dark cloth, hid the marks no one was supposed to see — the demon's stain etched into her skin, a secret she carried like a curse.
Irene's voice had always been soft, almost sweet, but beneath it lurked a quiet cruelty:
"You're special, Noor, but this mark... it's dangerous. You have to be careful — for their sake, and yours."
Every word wrapped in concern, but each one tightened the chains around Noor's heart. The way Irene made her feel was like being held too tightly — safe, but suffocating.