An ensuing silence swept through the corridors as the second group passed through like a chilling wind.
It all began with a sound,
The sound of heels tapping against polished marble with the rhythm of inevitability.
Then right there, up on the balcony was the prestigious Queen, Arlena Blackthorne strolling at the forefront with a majestic and captivating stride that seemed to radiate power and authority.
Her regal midnight blue gown flowed behind her like a liquid shadow, hems lined with silver embroidery shaped like coiled thorns and lunar lilies. Her long silver hair 0llllframed a face carved with timeless poise and quiet cruelty. Every motion she made was measured, controlled, and eerily graceful, ilike watching a snake slither across silk itself.
