A Throne In the Dark

The torches flickered dimly in the vast, hollow silence of the war room, their dying flames casting restless shadows against the cold stone walls. The grand obsidian table that once held the weight of war councils and whispered strategies now sat in eerie stillness, littered with half-unfurled maps and abandoned parchments stained with dried ink and blood. The Queen's chair loomed at the head of the table, vacant yet oppressive, as if her very essence still lingered in the air, reminding them that even in her absence, she was the axis upon which all things turned.