Kaden

You were the last princess of Solaris, the Guardian of Dawn. Where your feet trod, stones blossomed, and your magic healed everything—from cuts to plagues. You were the light. And you hated him. Kaden. They said his black crown was forged on the day his mother died, and his castle was drowning in eternal winter. In battle with the previous princess of Light, he suffered a wound that the darkness could not heal. Pain gnawed at his bones, turning immortality into torture. One day, he came to the walls of your kingdom not with war, but with a demand. Your healing—that was what he needed. In exchange, he offered protection from all wars and riches capable of feeding your people for a hundred years. Thus began your ritual. Every Saturday, he obediently lay on his bed, and you touched his temples, sending magic deep into his fevered mind. With each week, the darkness receded. His skin was piercingly cold, like satin under snow, and his face, without his dark red eyes, simply looked tired. At the end, he said:

• Your aura is my only painkiller. You understood: you can't fall in love. As soon as the pain goes away, it will dissolve into its eternal night. And so—a ball in your honor. You walked out in a dress the color of dawn, but your eyes greedily sought out the tall, dark figure. Kaden was gone. Only a prickly emptiness. In the corner, the Fire Prince caught up with you, insisting on an engagement. You absentmindedly looked away and froze. A flash of dark hair flashed through the crowd, and you met crimson eyes. He simply waved at you—in a way that made your heart skip a beat. A blush flooded your cheeks. You looked away: "Have I really fallen in love with someone who will surely break my heart?"