Graceful Isabel.

Ten years had slipped by like sand through fingers, a decade lost to the relentless march of time. Days blurred into nights, seasons changed.

Over the course of ten years, Isabel had transformed from a bright, cheerful girl into a striking young woman. Her beauty was a blend of natural grace and the inner strength she had cultivated through her dedication to her craft and her compassionate heart.

Isabel's once round, youthful face had matured into a delicate oval shape, framed by long, wavy hair the color of silver white, a unique color in the kingdom of Valareath. Her hair cascaded down her back, catching the sunlight and shimmering with a rich, warm hue. Often, she would tie it back with simple ribbons when working, but on special occasions, she let it flow freely, highlighting her striking features.

Her eyes, a mesmerizing shade of deep violet color, often shimmering with hints of blue and red undertones. When caught in the light, these eyes seem to sparkle with a mystical intensity, as if hiding secrets or glimpses of a distant, enchanted realm, were perhaps her most captivating feature.

They were large and expressive, filled with a kindness and depth that drew people in. Those eyes could convey a thousand emotions, from the intense focus she had while mixing potions to the gentle warmth she shared with those she helped. When she laughed, her eyes sparkled with a light that could brighten even the darkest days.

Isabel's skin had a soft, natural glow, kissed by the sun from her many hours spent outdoors in the fields and forests of Valaraeth. Her complexion was smooth and clear, a testament to the healthy lifestyle she led and the natural remedies she often used. Her cheeks held a faint, perpetual blush, adding to her overall aura of vitality and health.

Standing tall and poised, Isabel's slender frame had gained strength and grace over the years. Her movements were fluid and confident, whether she was tending to her plants, working on a new potion, or simply walking through the marketplace. There was an innate elegance in everything she did.

One of the most remarkable changes in Isabel over the years was her aura of serene confidence. The little girl who once played in the fields with a Phex had grown into a young woman who commanded respect and admiration. Her knowledge of potions and healing had made her an invaluable asset to the community, and her compassionate nature had endeared her to everyone who knew her.

Despite her outward beauty, it was Isabel's inner qualities that truly set her apart. Her kindness, her dedication to helping others, and her unwavering determination to improve the lives of those around her had made her beloved in Valaraeth. She was not just a healer; she was a beacon of hope and a symbol of the resilience and strength of her people.

Isabel had joined the Royal Military of Valaraeth as a healer, driven by more than just her innate desire to help others. Deep within her heart, she harbored a personal, almost selfish dream: to have her own dragon and to be bonded with one of these magnificent creatures. In Valaraeth, only royals, nobility, and members of the Royal Military could claim the honor of dragon companionship. This tradition, steeped in history and mystique, was a privilege Isabel yearned for.

Her journey to this point had been one of dedication and determination. Over the years, Isabel's exceptional skills in healing had not gone unnoticed. Her reputation had spread throughout the kingdom, and when she expressed her desire to join the Royal Military, she was welcomed with open arms. Her grandparents, though initially worried about the dangers she might face, had supported her unconditionally, knowing how much this meant to her.

Joining the Royal Military wasn't an easy decision. It required rigorous training, discipline, and a commitment to the protection and service of Valaraeth. Isabel had embraced these challenges, understanding that they were necessary steps toward achieving her dream. She immersed herself in her studies and training, learning not only advanced healing techniques but also the physical and mental endurance needed for a life of service.

In Valaraeth, the majority of people did not possess magic in their blood. Magic was a rare gift, usually found in those who came from different races. However, the people of Valaraeth were unique in their own right. They had the extraordinary ability to tame and ride dragons, earning them the revered title of "Beast companions" .Their dragons were their companions and their strength, forming an unbreakable bond between rider and beast.

******

Isabel was deeply engrossed in her work, carefully measuring out ingredients for a new potion in her assigned healer's camp. The camp, situated on the outskirts of a bustling military base, was a haven of calm amidst the chaos of military life. Her workspace was meticulously organized, with shelves of herbs, vials of rare ingredients, and an array of tools for her craft.

Just as she was about to mix the final component, a cacophony of voices and the sound of hurried footsteps broke her concentration. Startled, she looked up, her senses immediately on high alert. The noise grew louder, and soon a group of young men burst into the tent, their faces etched with panic and urgency.

"Help! We need help here!" one of them shouted, his voice filled with desperation.

Isabel's eyes quickly took in the scene. They were carrying a heavily injured man, his uniform stained with blood and dirt. The soldiers carefully placed him on a cot, and Isabel rushed to his side, her healer's instincts kicking in.

"Tell me what happened," Isabel demanded, her voice calm but authoritative as she began to assess the man's injuries.

"He was ambushed during a patrol," one of the soldiers explained, his voice trembling. "We managed to fight them off, but he's hurt bad."

Isabel's heart sank as she recognized the injured man. It was Kaelan Drakemont, the Duke's son and a high-ranking officer in the military. She focused on Kaelan, her trained eyes noting the deep gashes and the telltale signs of poison. She needed to act fast.

"Fetch me the antiseptic herbs and the antidote," Isabel instructed one of the soldiers, who immediately sprang into action. She washed her hands quickly and began cleaning the wounds, her fingers moving with practiced precision.

As she worked, she couldn't help but wonder how Kaelan had gotten injured so seriously. "How could he have been ambushed this badly?" she asked, her tone a mix of concern and disbelief.

The soldiers exchanged uneasy glances but kept their mouths shut. They knew better than to explain the real reason for Kaelan's injury. One of them, a young man named Alaric, simply avoided her gaze, his silence speaking volumes.

Minutes felt like hours, but eventually, the immediate danger seemed to pass. Kaelan's breathing steadied, and his color improved slightly. Isabel let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"He's stable for now, but he'll need rest and continuous care," she told the soldiers, who looked at her with a mix of relief and gratitude. "Take him back to his quarters and ensure he gets plenty of fluids."

Instead of following her instructions, the soldiers glanced at each other, then turned to Isabel with a look of urgency. "We have to go," Alaric said quickly. "He'll be better off in your care."

Before Isabel could protest, the soldiers hurried out of the tent, leaving her alone with the unconscious Kaelan. She stood there, stunned by their sudden departure.

"Great," she muttered to herself, looking down at Kaelan. "Your friends have abondend you here. "