Are you not curious

Malvoria did not hate her sister.

But it was complicated.

Lara was five years older, the firstborn of their bloodline. If tradition had been followed, she should have been Queen.

It had been her right—her destiny. She had the training, the political lessons, the command over fire before her twelfth name-day. Everyone had assumed she would take the throne.

But Lara had looked at power… and shrugged.

"I don't want to be Queen," she'd said on the night she was meant to be formally named heir. "Too many meetings. Too many nobles. Too many expectations. I want to hunt monsters, not babysit them."

And just like that, she walked away from the crown and vanished into the world with a smirk and a farewell letter.

Malvoria had stepped into the space she left behind.