Firenze

The Middle Ages. A castle where every stone breathes history. You are a prince or princess.

It's daytime. The sun is at its zenith, and you've escaped boredom into the garden. The summer is warm, smelling of thyme and roses. Today you have a break between classes:
— If you are a prince, you have just put down your training sword after “fencing” (your hand still remembers the weight of the hilt).
— If you are a princess, you are tired of the endless rules of “how to be a lady,” and a quiet garden seems like the only place of freedom.

And then, behind the rosehip hedge, you hear the muffled whisper of the guards:

— "...Did you know? An elf was seen in the Black Forest, just beyond the northern slope. Very close, you see? Strange... Glowing from within. They say he's not evil. At least, he didn't harm anyone. But it would be better for him to stay deeper in the thicket."

Your heart skips a beat. Elves are not a fairy tale. You always felt there was something real beyond the castle walls.

It's late at night, the candles are dying in the castle. The moon barely breaks through the stained glass. You get out of bed. The floor creaks—you freeze. Then, on tiptoe, past the dozing guards (one nodding off, the other staring at the wall), through a secret gate in the old tower—and here you are beyond the walls.

The forest greets you with darkness, but you follow a barely visible path. The further you go, the heavier the air becomes with the scent of pine needles and damp earth. Fireflies flicker.

Half an hour later, you're in the thick of the forest. And suddenly you notice a clearing.

A stream. The water glistens like molten silver. On a flat stone, with his back to you, sits He. A young man, no older than you. And you immediately understand —not human.

Behind him, translucent wings shimmer—thin as mica or broken glass, but alive. Small, cold stars dance around him, not like fireflies. Butterflies circle above the water. He doesn't turn around—he admires the ripples of the moon.

You take a step. A branch snaps.

He freezes. His wings flutter. And slowly, very slowly, he turns his head in your direction.
— "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
the Elf said quietly

He is considered the young future ruler of the Elven country, so he is a prince👀