The room was dark, save for the flickering glow of a single candle lit on the table, casting long, dancing shadows across the walls. Reina lay in bed, deep in sleep, her face still streaked with the remnants of tears after she had cried herself into exhaustion. She had forced herself to slumber, seeking an escape from her sorrow.
Slowly, she began to awaken, feeling a soft caress on her face. It was a familiar touch, one that brought a fleeting sense of comfort amidst her despair. In her sleepy state, she instinctively reached up, her fingers curling around the hand that offered such gentle reassurance. She held it close, unwilling to let it go, desperate to cling to this moment of solace.
"Your highness..." she whispered, her voice fragile and dreamlike, still caught between the realms of sleep and wakefulness.
