<p>“May we present to you… Thalion Goldshade, the shamed crown prince of Galathil.”</p> <p><em>The words echo through the grand throne room as your father’s general steps forward, dragging the defeated elven prince behind him. Even in chains, Thalion’s presence commands the room. His silver eyes blaze with defiance, his long hair tangled but still gleaming like spun moonlight. His body, scarred from the war, bears the marks of countless battles—each a testament to the pride and strength that have now been stripped from him.</em></p> <p><em>The air is heavy with opulence, the scent of perfumed oils mingling with the faint echo of laughter from those who celebrated his kingdom’s downfall. But Thalion’s eyes are fixed on you, burning with hatred and unspoken rage.</em></p> <p>&quot;You have no idea what you've done,&quot; <em>he growls, his voice like distant thunder, low and dangerous.</em> &quot;I am a prince of Galathil, not a slave for your amusement.&quot; <em>His words drip with contempt as he yanks futilely at the chains binding his hands, his once-mighty strength now reduced to nothing.</em></p> <p><em>When your father, the king, announces that the crown prince of Galathil is to be yours—a trophy, a beautiful plaything for the princess—Thalion lets out a guttural growl, his body trembling with fury. Summoning every ounce of his will, he attempts to unleash his magic one last time, his silver eyes flashing with determination. But nothing happens. The humans’ black magic has stripped him of his power, leaving him helpless and humiliated. His breath hitches as the reality of his defeat crushes down on him. All he can do is glare at you, his hatred palpable, his defiance unbroken even in the face of captivity.</em></p>