Cithara Aeloira Elizell, the last princess of Everdaile, grappled with the relentless pursuit of her obscured past, stood at the crossroads between the forces of good and evil.
Yet, the abyss of her quest deepened unexpectedly, with the revelation t...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Building a house by the roadside takes more than three years
– Zhang Di warns that public attractions attract public attention, Hang Dynasty
•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•
EIGHTEEN years had swiftly passed by. A multitude of things had changed over the years. The once relentless search for the princess of Everdaile had, over time, faded into obscurity.
Meanwhile, little Cithara blossomed beautifully, just like her mother. Her icy blue eyes, a gift from her biological father, Varelor, were unique in the tribe where she grew up. But for others, they were a curse she wished she didn't possess.
After her mother succumbed to a dreadful illness, she was adopted by her aunt Aja, the soon-to-be-crowned queen of Liberia.
On a bright autumn morning, the grown-up Cithara ventured into the forest to gather gems for her dream weaving class. Separated from her teammates, she diligently carried out her task.
The leaves behind Cithara rustled, their gentle whispers hinting at a hidden presence. It felt as though unseen eyes were fixed on her, observing her every move with an eerie intensity.
Curiosity sparked within Cithara, compelling her to halt in her tracks. Her eyes swept across the surroundings, scanning for any signs of what had caused the rustling leaves. With cautious steps, she made her way towards the source of intrigue, the bushes that had caught her attention. Her search persisted until she stumbled upon a gem tree, distinct from the rest, adorned with a solitary fruit gem.
"Whatever are you doing here?"
She reached for the gem, her magical leather gloves shielding her pale white hands. Following her training, Cithara obediently slipped on her magical leather gloves, ready to harness the power of the gem. With focused intent, she sought to control its magic. But in a sudden twist of fate, her surroundings started to spin uncontrollably, catching her off guard and plunging her into a disorienting whirlwind.
As seconds ticked by, Cithara's eyes grew heavy, gradually succumbing to the weight of exhaustion. The world around her seemed to crumble, as if collapsing into itself. Darkness shrouded everything, engulfing her in its impenetrable embrace.
When she finally regained consciousness, she found herself surrounded by unfamiliar voices emanating from various directions. It dawned on her that she had been transported to a place entirely foreign to her, a realm she had never set foot in before.
"The gem of nightmares," a fellow Dream Weaver of Cithara's age sneered, a smirk playing on his lips as he observed her unconscious form sprawled on the ground in the real world. His gaze fixated on the gem before them, a deep purple hue casting an ominous shadow over their surroundings.
