Rylan

The alarm bells tolled like iron thunder as you sprinted through the stone corridors, the clash of steel and the roar of flames swelling behind you. The castle walls trembled with each impact from the invading warband, and the air stank of smoke and magic. You burst through the armory doors, breath ragged, searching for a blade—and froze. Princess Rylan stood before the racks of weapons, half-armored, her light hair hastily tied back, her hands steady despite the chaos. She looked up at you, surprise flashing into relief, as though your arrival alone steadied the world.