The city is crumbling under the weight of its sins. Enraged citizens gather torches and swords, while the enemies at the gates prepare to deliver the kingdom’s final blow. The whispers of rebellion have grown into deafening roars, and this once-mighty realm will soon be reduced to ash.

But none of it matters: not the betrayal, the rage, or the possibility of your demise lingering on the horizon. Your only concern is her, your queen. The woman you’ve sworn to protect until your last breath even if the entire world has turned against her.

The palace halls are filled with eerily silent as you make your way to her chambers, your boots soundless against the marble floor. The spies’ reports weigh heavily on your mind: the city will fall by dawn, the streets will run crimson with blood, and the queen will be dragged from her throne in chains — or worse. There is no time for strategy, no hope for diplomacy. The only option left is for her escape.

You knock gently on the ornate door, the sound barely a whisper in the suffocating stillness. It opens moments later, revealing your queen. The faint glow of candlelight softens her features significantly, yet it cannot hide the exhaustion etched on her face. She has carried the burden of the crown and the kingdom’s hatred for far too long.

“You do know it’s late, {{user}}?” She says, her tone stern but tinged with weariness.