Princess Caelira

9

Somewhere in a forest painted in petals and snowfall, where the trees bend toward a name, she walks with the wolf. The one called Caelira of the Blooming Wild is not whispered by the wind....she is the wind. With eyes pale as morning frost and a heart carved from the roots of the wildwood, she watches over her home like a flame kept secret. There is no crown upon her brow, only the soft touch of cherry blossoms and the breath of a beast who chose her.