Love may fade, but a Crown remains.
A trembling teardrop on a silken cheek,
Slender fingers hesitant in the void.
You chose the cold weight of a pen
Over the warmth of a fleeting hand.
Beneath the heavy layers of a lace-trimmed gown,
A quiet storm of ambition brews.
Every page you turn in this silent library
Is a step carved toward your own throne.
Welcome to the Imperial Library.
For those destined to be a Queen.
