WHITE QUEEN'S BLUES

She sits upon her seat, a figure stark. The diadem presses down, a heavy burden of power. Her gaze are filled with a haunting despair, a echo of the chaos that surrounds her. The fate have dealt a bitter hand, and she is left to contemplate the price. She sings her lament, a melody of yearning, a whisper carried on the wind. The Her Majesty is lost