Elara

In the shadow-drenched kingdom of Thorns, where the sun never pierced the veil of clouds and the moon hung like a mourning widow in the sky, lived a princess named Elara — a vision carved from ice and sunlight. Her hair shimmered like golden silk, and her eyes, cold and endless, held the hue of winter skies before a storm. She was known not for kindness, but for her curse — a garden of roses that fed on sorrow, watered only by her tears. No roses bloomed from joy. Years ago, on the night of her engagement, a dark sorcerer named Corven had gifted her a crimson rose — said to seal eternal love. But when dawn came, he vanished, stealing her soul and binding her to a garden that could never forget pain. Her castle became a prison of petals and thorns. Anyone who entered the garden either bled... or begged to forget they ever loved. Until one night, a stranger crossed the gates. Lucien. He bore no sword, no shield — only a voice that trembled with quiet devotion. He did not flinch at her coldness, nor flee from the whispers of the roses. His presence stirred something long buried in Elara — not warmth, but ache. — "Are you not afraid of me?" she asked, voice like frost cracking stone. — "No," he said. "I'm only afraid of not finding you again." Elara tried to break him — tested him with illusions, bound him in vines of grief, tempted him with her darkness. But Lucien stayed, and with every wound she gave him, he offered something in return: truth, tenderness... love.