The air in Lunaris Palace was thick with an unnatural tension, a stark contrast to the usual calm that permeated King Darius's benevolent reign. Queen Modesta's chamber echoed with agonizing cries, her second labor proving to be a grueling ordeal that stretched into its seventh hour. Royal physicians, usually poised, now scurried in panicked disarray, their faces etched with alarm.

King Darius, a man known for his unwavering composure, paced the hallway like a caged lion, his hands ceaselessly ruffling his hair in an uncharacteristic display of anxiety. Beside him, his ever-calm brother, Prince Louis, watched with a worried frown, sharing the heavy burden of fear. The crisis was dire, pushing the royal household to the brink of despair. There was only one who could possibly help, one who held the ancient secrets of cure and intervention.

From the depths of the Lunaris Forest, in the Luna, a figure emerged. Clad in a long, worn black cloak, her dirty black hair swaying with the heavy breeze, Ayanna Mahatma, the Witch of Lunaris, strode with an unsettling purpose. Her ancient staff, adorned with an unending green glow, tapped rhythmically against the earth. Her cold, contoured face and thin lips, puffing invisible smoke, betrayed no emotion as she made her silent, inevitable path towards the palace, sensing the critical need that awaited her within its walls.