Callahan slowly turned his gaze to her, his own eyes hollow, stripped of the regal strength that defined him. "Come here, she isn't gone," he said, his voice barely audible. The words felt foreign, like shards cutting through his throat.
The palace erupted into chaos soon after. The doctors were summoned, but their somber faces confirmed what everyone already knew. The Queen of Monteluna had passed.
The nation plunged into mourning. Black banners draped the grand halls of the palace, and the people of Monteluna lit candles in her memory. The streets of Montelo were filled with solemn processions, citizens mourning the loss of their beloved Queen.
Amara stood on the balcony of her chambers, her eyes fixed on the sea of flickering lights below. The wind whipped through her hair, carrying with it the faint sound of weeping from the city. Her heart felt like a weight in her chest, heavy and immovable.
