The polished oak door of the principal's office at Sturgon Academy loomed before Princess Maria. She raised her hand, hesitating for a heartbeat before knocking firmly. From within, a soft, feminine voice called, "Come in."
Maria pushed the door open and stepped into a scene that felt like stepping into a dream. Books floated in midair, their pages turning as if guided by invisible hands. A quill scribbled furiously on a parchment, untouched, while a teacup stirred itself gently on a nearby table. At the center of this orchestrated chaos sat a woman whose presence commanded the room.
Her hair shimmered with hues of violet and pink, cascading over her shoulders like a twilight sky. Her face, sharp and radiant, could rival any princess's beauty. She was Archmage Mandira, sister to the King of Sturgon, and a figure Maria had admired since their meeting in Harlow years ago.
