Sylvia walked slowly toward her castle, her steps light yet burdened with unspoken weight. The morning wind of Nocturne still caressed her long black hair, carrying the lingering scent of the silent forest that clung to her black dress like memories unwilling to depart.
The castle gates opened silently as she approached; two Tank Zombies stood guard on either side, bowing deeply without a word. Sylvia gave only a small nod before stepping inside. The long corridor, illuminated by faintly purple death crystals, felt colder than usual as if the castle itself sensed what was weighing on its queen's mind.
She headed straight to her study on the upper floor: a spacious room with thick, dust-covered bookshelves lining the walls, a long, plush sofa made of ultra-soft fur, and a large obsidian desk already buried under a knee-high stack of documents. The massive window facing Nocturne had black glass that reflected the morning light like a mirror refusing too much brightness.
