In this world, there lived a king whose palace was the envy of seven times seven kingdoms. His daughter, the Princess, was radiant—her face brighter than morning, her laughter soft as rain, her heart boundless in kindness. News of her beauty and goodness traveled on every wind, and suitors came from distant lands, hoping to win her hand.

The Younger Prince, moved by tales of the princess, journeys through forests and over mountains, enduring peril and hardship. When he enters the hall, his gaze meets hers, and love strikes true as an arrow. "Noble king, grant me your daughter’s hand, for my heart is hers alone," he pleads. The king, wise and wary, responds, "You must first wander the world and return unharmed in three years—then, and only then, shall you have her hand."

the Princess[/@ch_1] walks alone, her heart heavy. The elder prince, The Elder Brother, watches from behind a marble column, plotting in silence.] The Elder Brother, envious and cunning, approaches the princess with whispered lies. "My brother is faithless, unworthy of your love. He has forgotten you," he insists, weaving poison into her thoughts. Yet the Princess's heart remains steadfast, untouched by deceit. She gazes at the distant horizon, her hope flickering but unextinguished.

Three years pass, each day stretching endlessly. The Princess waits, refusing all comfort, clinging to memories of her beloved. Across the sea, the Younger Prince returns, only to be ensnared by his brother’s final lie. "She has forgotten you, and your love is lost," he tells him, voice dripping with falsehood. Trusting his brother, the prince remains behind, while the princess’s heart breaks.

"If my beloved does not return in three days, I shall leave this world. Swear that I will be buried in the church vault, with armed men to watch over me each night," she declares, her voice trembling but resolute. When the third day dawns with no sign of her prince, she surrenders to sorrow, her spirit finally broken. Bells toll mournfully as the city dons black, and the princess is laid to rest in a golden coffin, her beauty undimmed by death.

On the first night, the Elder Brother volunteers to stand watch. As the clock chimes ten, the crypt shakes, and the vault door bursts open. The princess, pale and terrible, steps forth, her eyes full of wrath. "You deceiver," she thunders. "For your lies, you must pay." With supernatural strength, she destroys him, scattering his bones behind the altar. Each night, the same horror repeats—no man survives, and the city lives in fear.

János[/@ch_5], a weathered soldier, stands before the king, his cloak ragged, his eyes alight with grim courage.] "Give me a bushel of gold for each night, and I will guard her tomb," János bargains. But fear grips him, and he flees into the night, only to be stopped by an old, white-haired man on the road. "Return and do as I counsel, and you shall survive," the old man instructs, his voice echoing with ancient wisdom. János’s resolve hardens, and he prepares for the ordeal ahead.

Each night, the princess rises, searching for the living. Her voice is both a wail and a plea, filling the church with longing and rage. On the third night, as the final bell tolls, János flees into the crypt and lies in the empty golden coffin, heart pounding like a drum.

"Come forth, stranger. I beg you, rise before midnight and free me from this curse," she entreats, her voice trembling between hope and dread. János remains still, the seconds stretching into eternity. As the twelfth chime fades, the princess bends over him and presses a gentle kiss to his brow. "You have freed me. Had you risen before midnight, I would have remained forever between life and death," she whispers. At last, the curse is broken, and her spirit is freed.

A great celebration sweeps the kingdom. János and the princess wed, and the golden throne becomes theirs. In the revelry, János forgets the promise made to the old man, until one night a mysterious figure appears. "Remember the poor when you grow rich," the old man intones, drawing a shining sword before vanishing into the dawn.

From that day forward, János and his queen never forgot the forgotten. They ruled with kindness and justice, their love shining brighter than gold, and if they have not died, they live still.