The wind atop Valon Castle whipped gently at Charlotte's cloak as she stood before the balcony's stone rail. Below, the city pulsed like a single living creature — hundreds of thousands gathered in silence, waiting for her voice.
She inhaled slowly.
This wasn't the first time Valon had looked at her. But it was the first time she would speak before the world with full intention.
And her mind drifted — not far, just a little more than a year back — to the moment everything began.
To the alleyway.
To him.
To the first time Noel Thorne ever saw her.
The memory came vividly:
A figure smaller than him had rounded the church corner at full speed and smashed straight into his chest. Charlotte had stumbled back and hit the ground, dazed —
And her hood slipped off.
Pink hair spilled over her shoulders like scattered cherry blossoms on white stone.
Noel froze.
"…The Saint?"
