The White Queen's Lament
She sits upon her seat, a figure pale. The crown presses down, a heavy symbol of power. Her eyes are filled with a deep melancholy, a mirroring of the discord that surrounds her. The cards have dealt a unforgiving hand, and she is left to accept the cost. She sings Мичелз her song, a melody of yearning, a whisper carried on the air. The White