Back in Zone Eight, within the capital city of Tynoon, the royal palace of the Tempest Kingdom stood bathed in quiet lamplight. Inside one of its grand private chambers, Queen Lucy sat before her ornate dressing mirror, the room steeped in soft gold hues and gentle stillness. She wore elegant nightwear befitting her station, its fabric flowing and refined, as she calmly tended to herself with practiced, unhurried motions.
As she continued her routine, carefully attending to her skin, Lucy became aware of a familiar presence behind her. She did not turn, nor did she so much as flinch. Instead, she carried on as if nothing had changed, her composure unbroken.
"How have you been, Mabel?" she asked calmly, her gaze never leaving her reflection.
A few paces from the chamber door, Mabel stood in a disciplined posture, her presence quiet yet firm. "I've been faring well, Your Majesty," she replied, dipping her head in a slight bow. "Thank you for asking."
