A Prince Bleeding into the Snow           Image Generated with Meta AI  The first time Liora saw the prince, he was bleeding into the snow. It was dusk in the forest clearing, the sky a dull bruise above the jagged treetops. She dropped her firewood and ran toward the figure slumped against a boulder—barely upright, his blood staining the frozen grass crimson. She didn't recognize him at first. Just another wounded soldier, she thought. Until she saw the gold-stitched emblem on his torn cloak: a black raven over crossed swords. Royal. Liora's heart kicked against her ribs. Her fingers trembled as she touched his jaw—too cold. Blood soaked the side of his tunic where an arrow had lodged below his ribs. "Hey," she whispered. "Don't die here." His eyelids fluttered. "Who... are you?" "Someone who doesn't want to bury a stranger before breakfast." She tore at her satchel, hands flying. Clean cloth. Healing salve. Thread. Moonlight cau...

A Story of Guilt, Grace, and the Stranger Who Changed Everything Tunde didn't believe in anything. Not God. Not his father's sermons. Not the prayers his mother whispered before she died. Not even the Bible on the shelf, gathering dust like a forgotten promise. He believed in money. In pleasure. In the thrill of the next party, the next girl, the next gamble. His father, Mr. Benson, was a billionaire. A pastor. A man who preached prosperity on Sunday and lived it every other day. Tunde saw the hypocrisy. He saw the fraud. He knew about the company. He knew about the innocent man who went to jail for his father's crime. "Why would I believe in a God who lets that happen?" Tunde would say, laughing with his friends over expensive whiskey. "If He's real, He's either blind or cruel." He had no idea that a stranger was about to answer him. The Knock It was 11:47pm. The kind of hour when the city holds its breath. Tunde was coming home from another ni...