The Kingdom of Asura was known for its strict tradition, towering fortresses, and proud nobility. Its princes, born of different queens, had been raised from childhood to compete for the throne. Yet among them was a younger sister: Elena, daughter of the imperial consort, and the brightest in political intelligence and diplomatic skill.

  She was no warrior. She did not wield swords or command armies. But she was the only one who, after the sudden death of the king, proposed a rational solution: a shared regency council, to avoid civil war, calm the nobles, and stabilize the kingdom before discussing succession.

  And that was her mistake.

  Her brothers did not see wisdom. They saw a threat. A calcuted move to secure power before one of them could cim the crown. Her attempt at peace was interpreted as a silent coup, and her popurity among the nobles was the final spark.

  One night, while still preparing the documents to summon the council, someone burst into her chambers with naked steel.

  She had no choice but to flee.

  The Borders of Melrose

  After weeks on the run, Elena crossed the frozen hills of the north, the st nds of the Kingdom of Asura, and descended into a shadowy valley in the border duchy of Melrose, a region that formed part of the Kingdom ruled by Queen Maple.

  But Melrose was no ordinary nd. It was known as the domain of Aria, leader of the Rainbow Sword guild, an enigmatic figure nicknamed by some as the Ash-Crowned Princess.

  Rumors said she could control light and darkness, that her knives danced like butterflies before striking without warning, and that she never allowed danger to come close to those she cared for.

  Barely across the border, Elena’s exhausted body colpsed in a field outside a protected vilge. A guild scouting patrol found her dehydrated, unconscious... and covered in dried blood.

  When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a warm and cozy white-wood room. She wasn’t tied or guarded. But she wasn’t alone.

  Sitting by her bed, a soft light spell glowing around her hands, was Aria. Her long hair shimmered with a metallic hue in the dim light. Not entirely pink, not entirely silver—like living ash.

  At her side, in the shadow of the wall, stood Snow, Aria’s lieutenant, silently observing. Her ice-blue eyes showed no emotion.

  “Where… am I?” murmured Elena, her throat dry.

  “In Melrose,” Aria replied without raising her voice. “You crossed the border of the Kingdom of Asura. Injured. Alone. You brought no weapons or bodyguards. You didn’t try to hide your identity. But still, I need to know: why are you here?”

  The princess sat up with effort. Her bandages were fresh. Her wounds treated. Aria’s magic was warm, not invasive.

  “I’m Elena… from the Kingdom of Asura. I was… I am the second princess.”

  Snow’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t move.

  “My brothers… think I want the throne.” Elena clenched her jaw. “The king died weeks ago. I only wanted to stop the nobles from splitting apart. I suggested a regency council… and now they call me a usurper.”

  “And were you?” Aria asked calmly. It wasn’t judgment—it was a search for truth.

  “No. I never wanted the throne. I studied politics to help. To become a counselor, not a queen. But they don’t see that. And now… they want to kill me.”

  Silence grew thick.

  Suddenly, the temperature in the room dropped slightly. Aria said nothing. But her presence shifted. It wasn’t active magic. It was her aura.

  For a moment, her hair changed, as if it had been forged in iron. A silent bloom of an Iron Rose. It was one of her gifts, one that needed no activation: a brutal enhancement of her physical, mental, and magical abilities, reflected in that subtle transformation.

  Elena felt it all—the tent threat, held back with discipline. Not to intimidate her… but as a warning of what would happen if her story was a lie.

  And yet, in that moment, she sensed something else. The light Aria projected didn’t just heal. It protected. Her hands didn’t tremble. They didn’t hesitate.

  “You seem to wear a crown of ashes…” Elena whispered. It wasn’t mockery. It was admiration. A lethal beauty, she thought. Like a flower blooming over a freshly closed grave.

  Aria didn’t react to the phrase.

  “We won’t attack you. But we won’t trust without proof either. You’ll remain here under watch. If your story is true… you’ll have refuge. If you lie…”

  She didn’t finish the sentence. She didn’t need to.

  For a moment, a dark shadow crossed Aria’s face. Traces of her most feared technique: World in Fiction, a blend of light and darkness capable of making illusions tangible—or turning reality into smoke.

  But she didn’t activate it. Elena was not her enemy. Not yet.

  “I… just want to live,” Elena whispered. And closed her eyes. Not out of fear, but exhaustion.

  Aria stood. Snow followed in silence.

  Before leaving the room, Aria said without turning:

  “We don’t hunt those who flee. But we defend our own with everything we are.”

  And then they disappeared into the darkness of the hallway, leaving the exiled princess with her first feeling of peace in weeks.

  That’s how the second princess of Asura found a new fme amid the ashes.And how the crown she never wanted… might still be following her, disguised as destiny.