That morning, the first touch of sunlight had just reached the courtyard of Zelthar Castle when Liv stood before Marchioness Albrecht, Leon, and Briella. Dew still clung to the branches, and the air was cool and gentle, as if the world itself knew that today was not an ordinary day. Today, Liv would return to the North.
Her cloak was already fastened neatly, the crest of Zelthar pinned to her shoulder. That symbol did more than declare who she belonged to, it represented what she now carried within her: the heir of Zelthar, a hope so precious that everyone guarded her as if she were the castle's most treasured jewel.
The Marchioness looked at Liv the way a mother would look at her own daughter before letting her go. She stepped forward, cupping Liv's cheeks tenderly.
"My child… you don't need to feel guilty for leaving us. The North is where you belong now. It's the safest place for you and… the little one."
