In the vastness of space, the remnants of Queen Melizha floated—or rather, what was left of her, after the battle.
A single golden brain, with blue veins spread across like a sheet, the tad bit of Lanca that remained.
Currently speaking, inside her own mind, an intricate web of thoughts, flickered in and out like a dying star. She could feel the strange energy, the flames of decay, clawing at the essence of her existence, gnawing at the very fabric of her being.
A chilling realization swept over her: she was dying.
The remnants of her identity burn away, making her weaker and weaker as time goes, closer to eternal silence.
'Why?'
She lamented internally.
'How can this be happening to me?'
Her thoughts were laced with disbelief and fury, her once-immense power now reduced to whispers within the dark recesses of her consciousness.