NIGHTMARE

The night was eerily quiet, the kind of stillness that seemed to amplify even the faintest sound. The emperor lay on his grand bed, draped in silk sheets embroidered with golden dragons. His eyes were closed, his breathing steady, but his mind was far from restful.

In his dream, he found himself walking through the grand hallways of the palace. The familiar opulence was replaced by a cold, oppressive darkness. The torches on the walls flickered weakly, casting long, distorted shadows.

A chill ran down his spine as whispers echoed around him. They were faint at first, unintelligible murmurs that seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere.

"Why?" one voice hissed."Justice…" another whispered."You cannot escape us," a chorus of voices joined in unison.

The emperor quickened his pace, his boots echoing loudly against the marble floor. The grand corridor seemed to stretch endlessly, the once familiar path now foreign and disorienting.

As he walked, faces began to emerge from the shadows. Familiar faces. Faces of those he had wronged.

The first was an elderly man, his face gaunt and his eyes filled with sorrow. The emperor recognized him instantly—a former minister who had dared to question his decisions and paid with his life. The man raised a bony finger, pointing directly at him.

"You silenced me for speaking the truth," the minister rasped. "But the truth will never die."

The emperor stumbled back, his heart pounding. He turned to escape, but more figures appeared.

A young woman stepped forward, clutching a child to her chest. Her dress was tattered, her face streaked with tears. She was one of the countless victims from the North, her village burned on his orders.

"My child's cries haunt me," she whispered, her voice trembling with both grief and anger. "Will they haunt you too?"

Then a scary scrawny man also emerge"your hands killed so many....."his lips widened in a grin as he blood suddenly poured from his ear nose and mouth as he said"since you love blood so much ,why don't you drink this.

The emperor's breathing grew ragged as he backed away. More figures emerged—soldiers, peasants, nobles—each one a reminder of the lives he had destroyed in his pursuit of power.

The corridor suddenly shifted, and the emperor found himself in a hall of mirrors. Each reflection showed a different version of himself:his scrawny younger self who was fighting to be noticed by his father, a young prince full of ambition, a triumphant ruler crowned in glory, and an aged man with blood-stained hands.

The reflections began to speak, their voices overlapping in a cacophony of accusations.

"You betrayed your own blood!""Your throne is built on corpses!""Do you think you will rule forever?"

Desperation clawed at the emperor's chest as he smashed one of the mirrors with his fist. The shards fell to the ground, but the reflections remained intact, their haunting gazes fixed on him.

Then he saw his father figure,the former emperor ..his eyes looking at him with undisguised disdain like he always did,while he said thunderously "the throne doesn't belong to you"

Amidst the chaos, a shadowed figure emerged from the darkness. Unlike the others, it had no discernible face, only a looming presence that radiated malice.

"You fear me the most," the figure said, its voice deep and resonant.

The emperor's throat tightened as he struggled to speak. "Who…who are you?"

The figure stepped closer, and with each step, the air grew colder. "I am the embodiment of your fear. Your greatest enemy. Your inevitable end."

The emperor fell to his knees, his pride and composure shattered. "No! I am the emperor! I fear no one!"

The figure laughed, a sound that echoed like thunder. "You cannot rule forever. The shadows will consume you, as they consume all tyrants."

The emperor awoke with a start, his body drenched in sweat and his breathing labored. The grand room around him was silent, the opulence doing little to soothe his frayed nerves.

He sat up, rubbing his temples as he tried to shake off the lingering dread. His hands trembled slightly, a rare show of vulnerability for a man who prided himself on his strength.

The dream felt too real, too vivid. It was as if the ghosts of his past were warning him, reminding him of the fragility of his power and his father, he had always hayed his father,he is invisibleto his father and when he did something he thought was worth praising his father will look at him with that same undisguised disgust and spew out slowly"you are not worthy",the usually cold emperor is nowhere to be seen all that is left at this moment is fragility,he hated his father ,the kingdom and even himself,he hated his weakness,he doesn't want to cower because of a dream.

He poured himself a cup of wine with unsteady hands, taking a long sip to calm himself. "It was just a dream," he muttered, though the words rang hollow.---

The nightmare left a lasting impression on the emperor, planting seeds of paranoia that began to grow. He summoned his trusted spies, ordering them to keep an even closer watch on the court and the nobles.

"Trust no one," he told them, his voice cold and sharp. "Not even those who claim to be loyal."

His unease extended to his family. He scrutinized the actions of his sons more closely, his mind filled with doubts about their loyalty,his concubines wasn't left out of this scrutinises and even the Empress was under tight check,probably he doesn't want what his sons to do what he did to his father...there is a deep growing fear in his mind.

Even the Empress Dowager noticed his changed demeanor. "You look troubled, my son," she said during a private meeting.

"I am fine," the emperor replied curtly. But deep down, he knew he was far from fine. The shadows of his past were closing in, and for the first time in years, he felt vulnerable.