If she had been accepted, Ari could have been heir. Crowned. Her name spoken with pride on tongues that praised her. If her father had honored the pact, she could have stood as the bridge between worlds, proof of the unity between monsters and men. If she had been loved, Ari could have carried a kingdom's future and made it great. But...she was not. She was born cloaked in shame and cowardice instead of love and peace. Now she runs, feral, angry, hunted. In the Fenrathi wilds where monsters prowl and humans cower, she is not a pawn, not a bastard, not an obedient bride. She is sharp edges and stubborn will, a burried truth that will bite deeper than steel can cut. What she may yet become hangs in the balance: a woman who buries herself in silence once more... or one who learns to love her wildness and claim the future that lies denied her. Lies are rot. Truth is bone that endures.
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