[Spoken] [Narration] (The following section should be spoken, not sung, with the voice of a wise old man or wizard storyteller) The winds of the desert whispered their last goodbye… carrying with them the footsteps of a warrior who had lost everything—yet bowed to no one. Her village lay in ashes. Her kin, gone. Her past, carved in blood and silence. And though the Kingdom of Yavalon had long forgotten her corner of the realm, still… she walked on. With no banner… but her own. But hear me well... the tale does not end in the dunes. Far from the scorched sands—where sunburnt stone gives way to marble courtyards and flowering gardens—another story stirs. Hidden behind embroidered veils… and gilded masks. In the heart of Yavalon, the royal court gleams like a polished gem—flawless to the eye, yet fractured beneath its shining surface. There, in a chamber woven with silk and ceremony, lives a princess bound by duty. She is the light of her lineage. The heir to a name revered across the land. To her people, she is grace incarnate—obedient… poised… perfect. But perfection… is a cage. No less than chains of iron. Her gaze lingers on the distant horizon—on tales of forgotten ruins, of wandering blades, of those who carve their names into legend. Her heart burns for the world beyond the palace walls. And so, while the warrior walks away from all she knew… The princess stands at the edge of all she was meant to be. Two paths. Scattered in the dust of fate. Moving… ever… closer.
