Several days had passed since the castle's reconstruction was completed. The once-collapsed stones now stood proudly in a new formation, reinforced by magic and the tireless labor of undead hands. Tall dark pillars rose with carvings of bone and iron, while the eternal fire torches lit up the corridors in an eerie glow. Watchtowers were active once more, and the underground halls pulsed with steady streams of dark magic.
Yet, far from all the bustle and activity, the queen was simply enjoying her morning in her private chamber.
Sylvia's room lay at the top of the main tower, with large glass windows displaying the sweeping panorama of the valley and the low-hanging clouds. The heavy curtains were half drawn, letting morning light pour in gently over the edge of her bed.
