The rain poured down mercilessly on the rooftops of the forgotten district of Vale Hollow. Beneath a tattered umbrella, a girl no older than eighteen struggled through the muddy streets, her arms wrapped around a small basket of bread she had barely earned from a long day of cleaning stalls.
Her name was Aira Dawn, and to the world, she was nothing more than a poor orphan with no past and no future.
But tonight, fate would remember her.
As she reached the alley where she slept—an old blanket behind a crumbling wall—she was greeted not by silence, but by a cloaked figure standing in the rain.
"You have her eyes," the stranger said, his voice deep and unfamiliar.
Aira froze. "Wh-who are you?"
He stepped forward slowly, bowing slightly. "Forgive my sudden appearance, Lady Aira. But the time has come for you to reclaim what is yours. The blood of the Eldoria runs through your veins."
She blinked. Eldoria? That was a name from the fairytales the old washerwoman told children.
"I think you've made a mistake. I'm just Aira. I have nothing."
"No," the man whispered. "You have everything. Power. Wealth. A kingdom in hiding. And now… protectors who would die for you."
Behind him, shadows moved. More figures emerged—each one bowing before her.
A knight in golden armor.
A cold-eyed man in black, bearing the sigil of the assassin's guild.
A tall, refined nobleman with silver hair.
And a mysterious mage whose eyes glowed faintly with magic.
"You are not alone anymore," the mage said gently. "We have searched for you for seventeen years. We are yours to command."
Aira staggered back, overwhelmed. "Why me?"
The assassin stepped forward and dropped to one knee. "Because you are the last heiress to the throne of Eldoria. And we were born to serve and protect you."
The rain slowed to a gentle drizzle as the clouds parted, and for the first time in her life, Aira saw light breaking through the darkness—shining just for her.
And the world… would never be the same again.