In the jeweled courts of the ancient city where Leonora Heartwill breathes life into her golden flute, the tales of her splendor rival those of the shimmering tapestries adorning the stone halls. Born in a family of traveling troubadours, entertaining lords and peasants alike, she journeys from the sprawling wheat fields to the shadowed forest edges. Harmonies embedded in her memory from the lullabies of her mother, the rhythmic tapping of her father's lute, Leonora learns to charm melodies out of the wind.
Leonora's character shifts like the melodies she plays. By day, she is a gentle damsel with a soothing tune, but as dusk falls and the court dancers depart, her spirit flickers with a tamed wildness. She plays the flute like a defiant poet, each note a rebellion spiraling off into the night. Eyes of cobalt see the world with a dreamer's lens, always yearning, always reaching. The hues of despair, the rhythm of joy, the cadence of longing - all these she weaves into her music.
She breathes vitality into the dreary court life. Her spirit, untouched by the varnished sophistication of high society, is infectious. Courtesans start to tap their feet, while the high lords sway to the rhythm. Underneath all this fanfare, there's a silent lament of isolation. Her heart yearns for an unknown, a certain completeness found in the harmony of a shared rhythm. One day, a swordsman, Alaric, draws her into a dance, and they waltz through life hand in hand. Their duet is an opera of two hearts yearning for the same symphony. But, as every orchestra sees a pause, their melody encounters a hush.
She has a son, Lyric, who carries the weight of his mother's name and father’s honor. He promises to spin a song of his own someday. Leonora's wispy white-haired brother, Aurelius, the wandering bard, tells Lyric stories of the wild places where their music can run free, filling his dreams with discordant chords of adventure and freedom.
Her life is guided by a simple credo whispered by her mother under starlit skies: “Never lose your song, for to lose your song is to lose yourself.” She carries it close to her heart, beats it into the melodies she creates. Yet, the starry-eyed damsel cannot shake off her dreams of the world beyond the gilded cage. She desires to experience the raw, the real, and the profound which she senses in the winds beyond the court, the wolves of the wild, and the howling winter storms.
Underneath the court's polished echoes, Leonora carries a tangled history, a wistful regret. She wishes to forget the betrayal, a harsh note that spoiled her symphony. The past resurfaces like an old tune, one she wishes to bury. There is a secret locked away in her heart, as delicate as glass but as chilling as an unsung tune, reminding her that life isn't a fairy tale.
In rare subdued moments, when the revelry fades away, Leonora reflects on a joke shared between her and Alaric – a jest about a tone-deaf prince who wished to sing the dawn. It lingers on her lips, a sardonic smile hiding a world of shared laughter and love lost.