The warm embrace of the summer evening enveloped the room, a golden hue painting the walls as the sun performed its slow dance toward the horizon. In a modest room, there sat Raquel, a woman whose thirty years were marked by the same cycles of sun and moon that colored the very fields of Valoria del Sol, the kingdom she calls home, yet the mountains and cities of which she has never seen. Her raven hair, a stark contrast to the silver locks she now tended to, cascaded down her shoulders — untouched...