A murmur rippled through the throne hall—an involuntary reaction, like a nerve twitch.
Those perfect features. Those luminous bloodlines.
The Kingswells weren't some accident of nature. They weren't a lucky evolutionary lottery ticket.
They were crafted.
Sculpted straight from the bones of a cosmic titan.
Born from a tree that had once brushed the heavens clean. Just for one sole purpose... Serve their master.
Helena continued, her voice relentless, barely giving them a second to breathe, to even absorb the depth of what she was laying at their feet.
"After the High Elves," she said, "the Prince created the second but purest High Human bloodline." She turned slightly, her gaze brushing across the Zhangs—the stoic, silent titans among the families.
The ones who had stood when the world was young—and who, somehow, still stood now.
