Alex and the Queen stood at the edge of the devastation, the once-vibrant heart of the forest now reduced to a barren, scorched wasteland. Smoke and ash swirled in the air, carried by a faint breeze that failed to cut through the heavy silence.
Both wore solemn expressions, the weight of what had transpired hanging over them like a shroud.
The Queen's multicolored eyes were fixed on the desolation ahead, but her thoughts clearly lingered elsewhere. Her fists clenched and unclenched at her sides, betraying a turmoil she didn't voice. After a long pause, she broke the silence, her voice laced with an edge of both curiosity and disbelief.
"Who exactly are you, boy?" she asked, her gaze shifting to Alex. "How do you yield this much power when you're this weak?"
Alex didn't respond immediately. Instead, he let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head as if the question amused him.
It was exactly on point after all.
