In the village of Lumira, nestled beneath the shadow of Mount Astra, whispers of an enchanted well had persisted for generations. It was said that whoever drank from the well would be granted perfect health and unending energy. Yet the well’s location was a mystery, and its existence was shrouded in doubt.
The kingdom of Averlin was a place of splendor, known for its shimmering rivers and towering crystal trees. But beneath its beauty lay a hidden struggle: an affliction called the “Gray Curse.” It drained the health and vitality of its people, leaving them weak and listless. To make matters worse, the kingdom’s economy faltered as its sickly citizens could no longer work or trade effectively.
The mirror stared back at Mariam, its fractured surface multiplying her face into a mosaic of distorted images. Each shard reflected a different version of herself—none of them familiar.
As a child, beauty had felt as natural as breathing, something she saw in every smile, every sunrise. But somewhere along the way, beauty became something to chase, something measured by standards she could never meet.
