WNDR4120

Promised Before You Breathed

You were promised before you drew your first breath — ink on parchment, two royal seals, one irreversible future. Now you are twenty-one, standing in a hall that smells of cold stone and old power, and the man your father sold your future to is already waiting at the altar. The doors sealed behind you at sunrise, the contract glows under candlelight, and somewhere in its final page is a clause nobody told you existed.