In the heart of the Forgotten Hoard, beneath layers of tarnished silver and timeworn crowns, lay a necklace said to have belonged to a princess no bard dared name. Its clasp—shaped like a heart—was rumoured to seal not only the chain, but a vow whispered to her by a knight who never returned from the northern wars.
Pink stones, soft as the blush of dawn, still gleam along its length, untouched by centuries of dust, as if warmed by her hands even now.
They say whoever fastens it around their throat may feel the ghost of her sigh—equal parts love, longing, and the weight of a promise that was never kept.
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