The golden light of late afternoon filtered through the towering windows, casting a soft glow across the gallery walls. I found myself standing before the enormous portrait of the emperor, hung with such reverence that it seemed to dominate the entire corridor. He sat upon his throne, adorned in flowing navy robes trimmed with gold, a specter in one hand and a crown perched regally atop his snow white hair. His expression was calm, powerful an aura of absolute authority radiated from his crystal like eyes, as if even his painted gaze could command silence and loyalty.
Beside him, much smaller in scale, was my own portrait.
I stared at it quietly, taking in the delicate brushwork that captured my features with unnerving accuracy. The emperor really is talented. It felt surreal to see myself immortalized this way, displayed next to someone as grand as the emperor. I wondered if I truly belonged there.
