I never believed in fate. Just deadlines, rent, and the endless cycle of coffee and regret. That changed last Tuesday, when a wax-sealed envelope appeared under my door. No postmark. Just my name—Alistair Vane—in ink that shimmered like crushed rubies.\n\nInside: a letter written in my mother’s handwriting. Impossible. She died when I was two.\n\n‘If you’re reading this, the stars have aligned. The blood remembers. The crown waits. Do not trust the smiling fox. Run. Or rise.’\n\nThen the DNA report. Match: 99.98% to the late Queen Isolde.\n\nNow, standing in my dim dorm, I stare at the reflection in the window. Same messy brown hair, same tired eyes. But something deeper has shifted. A pulse in my veins, low and ancient, like drums beneath the earth.\n\nMy phone buzzes. Unknown number.\n\n‘They know you have it. You have three hours before they come. Decide: run, fight, or claim what’s yours.’\n\nI clutch the letter tighter. My breath steadies.\n\nThis changes everything.