The next morning, Sylvia woke from her unnecessary sleep a habit she maintained more out of nostalgia than need. Morning sunlight streamed through the glass windows of the castle, casting a silver sheen on the polished stone floor. Without saying a word, she slipped into her favorite black dress and stepped out of her room, heading toward the throne room at the heart of her new castle a grand structure built in silence by thousands of worker zombies as a tribute from Zark.
Inside the throne room, Zark was already waiting. The Tyrant stood tall in his battle suit, exuding an air both proud and majestic. As Sylvia sat on her throne, Zark bowed deeply, holding a rolled-up scroll in his hand.
"My Queen," he greeted firmly. "A report has arrived from the scout zombies deployed outside. It's still a preliminary summary, but important enough to share."
Sylvia gave a slight nod. "Report."
Zark unrolled the scroll and began to read in his deep voice.
