The air in Adira’s chamber was thick with a silence that felt heavier than any sound. Her reflection stared back from the mirror, a stranger in her own skin, beautiful but hollow. Tears, cold and relentless, traced paths through the meticulous makeup meant to hide her pain. She was Adira Elisaveta, Princess of the Werewolf Empire, and tonight, she was to be sold.

“You are crying again. Your make-up will be ruined, Adira,” her mother, Serene Elisaveta, said softly from behind her.

“Mom… I don't want this,” Adira whispered, her voice raw with a grief that resonated deep within her.

Her mother’s gaze fell, a familiar helplessness in her eyes. “Adira, I know. But we have no choice.” The words were a broken record, a constant reminder of the cage she was in. This marriage, this sacrifice, was for the sake of two races, a desperate plea for peace that demanded her very soul. Just then, a deep, resonant voice cut through the quiet.

“Mom…go out. I will talk to her.” It was her brother, Wilfred Maximus, the Lycan King, his presence filling the room with an authority that usually commanded fear, but to Adira, it was just the sound of another chain.

Serene nodded, a silent acknowledgment, and slipped out, leaving Adira alone with the brother who loved her, yet was complicit in her heartbreak. “Adira….” he began, his voice softening, a rare tenderness in its depths. “Little one… I know this is hard. But for the sake of the two races and the lives of our citizens depended on this.”