THE RISE OF HUTTON MAXWELL (4)

In a dimly lit resting chambers, a sense of eerie stillness pervades the air. Soft hues of lavender and mauve adorn the walls, casting a gentle glow that dances upon the intricate tapestries hanging from the ceiling. The room is furnished with opulent velvet couches and plush cushions, offering a semblance of comfort amidst the confinement.

At the center, a solitary figure sits, her flowing purple hair cascading around her like a veil. Her piercing violet eyes betray a mixture of defiance and resignation as she awaits her fate, locked within the confines of her luxurious prison.

'I wonder how he is doing now?' The purple haired lady thought as a warm yet hopeless smile slowly appeared on her face. But while she was having her thoughts, a silhouette suddenly appeared right behind her.

"Young mis–"

"I have a name"