Fire does not care if it burns through the wood. How easily is ash to stray from gravity, and loiter in the air like a hopeless breath. Like the knife, fire has no preference at all. Whatever burns will burn and perish to the flame. Aside from the beat of her heart, no muscle would move. Every part of her body is no more than a borrowed element forged in a star, and it's time for her to glow hot again – light up the night with the fat under her pampered skin. She gasped as she witnessed her husband's unjust execution, and he lay like a butchered animal in a waste of blood. With their capital under siege, what more could she do but watch and perish to the flames of their foe; Baekje. The odious smell of metal and rotting flesh began to  blanket the air in a choking aroma. The Queen should have been used to this by now, but the strings the scene struck hit her like a malignant wave of grief. Her cerulean optics reflected the oceans waves, how quickly her tears were to well like tide to sand. The angel of death was here and the Queen was ready to fall, and at the price of her life, will her daughter live.

Silla’s most admirable knights lay like ghoulish mannequins, the esophagus and arteries protruding like so much corrugated and rubber tubing, and the Queen's grief surged with every expelled breath. The Queen seized the weapon from the man she trusted to protect her daughter before she were to accost the King of Baekje.

“Are you ready to hand over the kingdom to me, Queen Eunju", the man uttered. A malicious yet victorious smirk conformed to the corner of his lip. He observed and admired the ch