[In one of the chambers in Holy Kingdom]
The chamber was cloaked in shadows, its silence suffocating. A single candle sputtered weakly atop a wrought-iron holder, casting trembling light that barely reached the edges of the stone walls. The air was heavy with the scent of burnt wax and damp stone, as if the darkness itself had grown stale from lingering too long.
In the far corner, a girl sat slumped against the cold marble floor. Her once-immaculate white robes were crumpled and stained with ash and dust, the fabric clinging lifelessly to her frail frame. Strands of lovender hair clung to her damp cheeks, matted from dried tears. Her silver eyes, once radiant symbols of faith and purity, were now swollen, rimmed red, and vacant—like shattered glass reflecting nothing.
