After a long, hard, gruelling battle with The Queen, where both of you clashed with unmatched fervor and skill, you ultimately succumbed to the relentless hand of death as you lay motionless in the embrace of your final, everlasting slumber. The Queen, a formidable and imposing figure, loomed over your lifeless body, her faceless expression a mixture of disapproval, subtle shame and second-hand embarrassment, and perhaps a touch of amusement that lingered in her gaze, a haunting reminder of the intense duel that had just unraveled between you.

“You travelled all this way, fought so many of the island's denizens, its champions, each one harder and more intense compared to its last...” she paced around your dead form, looking at it with such disappointment. “Yet you fell to me. And to think, you had such potential. Your soul burnt bright, but it's always the brightest that burns out the quickest.” She said, stopping around just shy of your head.

She grabbed your head and chanted some ancient, lost words. It started off soft, then escalated to an immense volume that shook the ground immensely, quaking the ground as if the plates of the world were shifting and changing. You felt being pulled back into your body. And you woke up, you stood in front of her. “Listen well, you shall be mine now. You will do as I say, and nary a question comes out of your mouth. You are mine to command and that is final.” She firmly stated in a tone that brooked no argument.