Prologue: The Night of Betrayal

The grand halls of Eldoria echoed with the sound of celebration. Torches flickered, casting golden light on marble floors as nobles danced, oblivious to the shadows gathering beyond the palace gates. Princess Clara, heir to the throne, stood on the royal balcony, the weight of responsibility pressing against her chest. Tonight was supposed to be a night of peace.

Then the screams shattered the illusion.

Chaos erupted in the great hall as armored soldiers stormed the palace, cutting down guards and nobles alike. The banners of Eldoria, once symbols of hope, burned as the scent of smoke filled the air. Clara turned to run, her heart pounding as betrayal unfolded before her eyes.

"Clara!" a voice called. It was Sir Alden, her father's most trusted knight. Blood dripped from a wound on his forehead, but his grip on his sword was steady. "You must leave, now!"

She hesitated. Her father - King Edric - where was he?

The answer came too soon. The throne room doors burst open, and there he stood, a sword driven through his chest. Behind him, a figure emerged from the darkness - the new ruler, a usurper who had once sworn loyalty to the crown. His eyes met Clara's, a smirk curling his lips.

"Little princess," he taunted. "Your reign ends before it begins."

Tears blurred her vision, but Clara knew she had no time to grieve. Sir Alden grabbed her arm and pulled her through the hidden corridors beneath the palace. The sounds of war and treason faded as they ran deeper into the tunnels.

"Stay alive," Alden whispered before shoving her toward an escape route. "Eldoria will need you."

And just like that, the princess of Eldoria became an exile.

Chapter 1: A World Without a Crown

The morning sun burned bright over the dense forests surrounding Eldoria's borders. Clara stumbled through the underbrush, her royal garments torn and caked in mud. Gone was the silk and gold of palace life - now, she was just another lost soul in a world that had turned its back on her.

For days, she wandered, surviving on whatever berries she could find, her once-delicate hands now scraped and bruised. Each night, she dreamed of the flames consuming her home, the usurper's mocking gaze, and the sound of her father's final breath.

The pain in her stomach gnawed at her resolve, but she clenched her fists. She would not die in exile. She would fight.

A rustling in the trees made her stop. Bandits? Soldiers? She reached for a rock, the only weapon she had, as the figures emerged. A group of travelers, rough-looking but not unkind, stared back at her.

"You look half-dead," one of them - a woman with twin daggers - muttered. "Who are you?"

Clara hesitated. If she revealed herself, they could turn her in for a reward. If she lied, she might lose her only chance at survival.

"I am no one," she said at last.

The woman smirked. "Then welcome to the world of nobodies."

Little did they know, the nameless girl before them was destined to reclaim a kingdom.