The White Queen's Lament
She sits upon her seat, a figure shadowed. The diadem presses down, a heavy symbol of power. Her glance are filled with a piercing sadness, a mirroring of the turmoil that surrounds her. The cards have dealt a bitter hand, and she is left to contemplate the cost. She sings her song, a melody of regret, a whisper carried on the air. The White Queen