Into the Light Once More
They accused me of trying to murder my younger sister—the beloved Saintess.
No one believed me. No one defended me.
Not even my own family.
I was only fourteen that winter when they executed me, the Fourth Princess of Edenbell, before a jeering crowd.
But death was not the end.
When I opened my eyes again, I heard his voice—soft, tender.
“My baby, my precious little sister.”
He cradled my tiny fingers in his, his smile warm and bright.
The way he held me, the gentle sway of his arms, the lullaby humming from his lips—it was all so warm. So safe.
Comment