The afternoon sun shone brightly through the window slabs, bathing the empty throne room in hues of yellow and orange. Myra tightened her grip on the broom, inhaling slowly before continuing her sweeping.

Sweat dripped down her neck, slipping below her collar. Her legs were stiff, her arms ached yet she didn't slow down.

There was no room for weakness here, she was realizing that as the days turned into weeks. And the hope of gaining freedom also dwindled with each passing hour.

Every task, ...