Luna's face turned ashen, her breath growing shallow as panic gripped her.
"No, no, no… what is happening here? Where is the portrait?" she gasped, her voice trembling.
Her eyes frantically searched the room, darting from corner to corner, hoping to find any trace of it.
Her heart pounded painfully in her chest, sinking lower with each second.
The servants stood frozen, their faces pale, sharing in the weight of her despair.
One of them, barely able to meet her eyes, whispered, "W-we apologize, Lady Luna. We failed to protect it... we're so sorry."
Luna's legs buckled, and she collapsed to her knees, the world spinning around her.
Her palms pressed against the cold floor as a torrent of memories overwhelmed her.
That portrait—it was the last connection to her mother, the final piece of her past she had fought so hard to preserve.
