The elven ship fell silent as their queen, Alariel, sovereign of the high elves and bearer of the oldest bloodline among them, stepped forward. Her presence alone commanded reverence.
Silver hair cascaded down her back like liquid moonlight, each strand catching the sunlight. Her golden eyes, bright as a sunlit forest, locked onto Roxanne with a mixture of pride, exhaustion, and something close to despair.
Draped in a dark, ceremonial gown embroidered with living motifs, leaves that shimmered faintly, and threads that pulsed with natural magic, Queen Alariel looked every bit the ruler of a land once blessed by the Tree of Life. Her crown, made from pale branches and translucent crystals, crowned her with nature's authority.
And yet, when she came to stand before Roxanne, even her beauty and majesty seemed humbled. Two female alphas, both breathtaking and both powerful, faced each other. Their presence alone made the entire deck hold its breath.
