~ 𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑰𝑵𝑮 𝑺𝑶𝑶𝑵 - In the heart of an ancient Chinese dynasty, a young emperor reigns with wisdom beyond his years but carries a heart heavy with unresolved grief. Years ago, he lost his beloved under mysterious circumstances, a loss that has...
The dream—or perhaps it was a vision—had been so vivid, so visceral, that waking up from it left me disoriented and gasping for air. The room around me was still shrouded in the quiet darkness of early morning, the only light a faint glow from the moon filtering through the curtains. My heart pounded against my chest, the echoes of the emperor's grief still resonating deeply within me.
In the vision, the emperor had been kneeling beside her bed, his shoulders shaking with sobs as he tenderly brushed through her long, white strands. The scene was steeped in sorrow, the air thick with the weight of his unspoken words and the finality of her silence. Her peaceful expression, marred only by the unnatural whiteness of her hair—a stark symbol of purity—had left a haunting image in my mind.
I sat up, wiping the sweat from my forehead with a shaky hand, trying to calm the rapid beating of my heart. The intensity of the flashback was unlike anything I had experienced before. It wasn't just a memory or a story I had heard; it felt as though I had been there, standing beside the emperor, sharing in his despair.
The emotional toll was overwhelming, and as I pressed my hand to my chest, I could almost feel a residual ache—an echo of the pain that must have coursed through her in her final moments. It was a connection that went beyond empathy; it was as if her spirit was reaching out through time, bridging the gap between past and present with a clarity that was both beautiful and terrifying.
The room felt colder now, the shadows seeming to shift slightly as if in response to the turmoil of my thoughts. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, grounding myself by touching the cool floor with my bare feet. Taking deep, measured breaths, I tried to piece together the meaning behind this intense experience.
The early morning quiet felt heavy around me, a silent witness to the turmoil within. Taking deep, measured breaths to steady my nerves, I stood up, grounding myself in the mundane action of setting my feet on the cool floor.
Compelled by a sudden impulse, I walked towards the mirror to assess my disheveled appearance, hoping to shake off the remnants of the dream and return to a sense of normalcy. The room was dimly lit by the moonlight streaming through the curtains, casting long shadows and painting everything in hues of gray and silver. As I approached the mirror, a flicker of movement caught my eye—my reflection coming into focus.
I froze, my breath catching in my throat. The person staring back at me was almost unrecognizable—my entire head of hair was now white as snow. The shock of seeing such a stark transformation sent a chill down my spine. This wasn't just a few strands, but every single hair had turned an ethereal white, reflecting the moonlight and giving me an otherworldly appearance.
