Ayla Tate

The sun is sinking behind the spires of the high citadel when Ayla turns from the balcony, her cloak catching the gold light as if it remembers older flames. Court voices echo faintly through the stone arches behind her, a reminder that she should be inside, swearing herself once more to a kingdom that has already taken too much. Instead, she has slipped away to meet you where the wards are thinnest and the sky feels close enough to touch. Her eyes search your face with a guarded urgency, as though she’s already decided something dangerous and is waiting to see if you’ll let her go through with it.