In the palace suspended in twilight, the corridors are deep and long, the halls spacious and desolate. Unseen whispers echo behind every door, as if countless invisible guests gather in this ancient and illusory palace, continuing their endless banquet while malignantly scrutinizing the visitors who step inside.
Emperor Rosetta Augustus’s footsteps suddenly resounded in the empty corridor.
The ruler of the Typhon Empire walked along the corridor he had traversed countless tis, seemingly oblivious to the eerie whispers around him. His figure cast uneven shadows beneath narrow windows glowing with twilight, each shadow trembling slightly as if trying to co alive, but gradually settling into calmness in the emperor’s disregard.
He arrived at the deepest chamber of the palace, where portraits of past Augustus Clan mbers hung.
Expressionless faces embedded in dark fras gazed coldly at Emperor Rosetta Augustus, and so images within the fras ca to life, exchanging whispers with neighboring portraits, emitting muddled, non-human-like murmurs.
The fras that have "co alive" all contained Augustus mbers from the past two hundred years, those active after the collapse of the old imperial capital, after the curse descended.
And those active between seven hundred and two hundred years ago rely remained silently in their fras, serving as cold portraits.
Rosetta was accustod to this.
Nightmares are born of curses, and also reflections of the cursed’s ntal world, with the tiline dividing at the old imperial capital’s collapse two hundred years ago. Before the collapse, Augustus mbers’ souls were free, and nightmares could only project soulless illusions. After the collapse, Augustus mbers were trapped in this dream world, becoming the source of many anomalies here, rendering this nightmare world even more eerie and dangerous.
Rosetta’s gaze swept over the living portraits, his expression indifferent.
Those were his ancestors, so were people closest to him in childhood, and so were the very heroes of tales he’d heard since he was young. But that’s who they were in life—now, they are rely part of this eerie dream palace, a link in this curse, wherein any anticipation of familial ties or humanity invites a swift tragic end, a lesson learned painfully by generations of Augustus clan mbers.
But if one maintains their sanity and restrains greedy and rash intentions, the shadows within these nightmares serve another purpose.
Amidst the living portraits, Rosetta’s grandfather, the wise Emperor George Augustus, seed to notice sothing. His pale, wizened face turned, his gaze falling upon Emperor Rosetta Augustus, as the muddled murmuring shifted into sothing recognizable: "Ah, look who’s here... my dear grandson... how are you?"
A neighboring portrait beca animated, glancing at Rosetta: "Not looking too well, seems he’s quite weary. Governing an empire is quite taxing. Child, you should learn to adjust your state, don’t exhaust your life so soon."
Soon, other portraits nearby chid in agreent.
Rosetta disregarded the buzzing discussions, speaking with a calm tone: "The palace appears more frequently, what changes might it portend?"
"So cold..." the portraits remarked.
Rosetta rely stared at them, expressionless.
"What kind of changes do you desire? Co closer to us?" Emperor George Augustus laughed hoarsely, "Such a pity, although we long for the day family reunites, you’ve consistently refused well—you remain quite distant from this nightmare yet."
"But other things, however, are drawing nearer to your reality..." another portrait supplented.
"Other things? What things?" Rosetta furrowed his brow, "Another ’Divine Heritage’?"
"We wouldn’t know..." muttered Majori Augustus beside Emperor George Augustus, "It seems different from our situation... it’s sothing similar in stature and power, but only similar. Perhaps it’s this ’similarity’ that has awakened perception in us, and has made your curse stir slightly."
Pondering these vague utterances and the corresponding clues in the real world, Rosetta’s brows knitted tightly. anwhile, he heard his father’s voice, Majori Augustus speaking again: "In any case, you should be more cautious lately, changes seem likely in the reality you inhabit. It might not be aid at you, but its re existence is enough to pose a threat."
Emperor George Augustus added, "We can’t offer you help from ’inside’ for your worldly matters, but we’ll extend our sensing, trying to find its trail, and delve as deep as possible within the dreams of history for clues that possibly... could aid you."
Rosetta raised his head, looking at his father and grandfather, gazing at the other more ancient Augustus mbers, watching them propose plans and strategies, witnessing them plunged into fervent discussions offering counsel. But he rely maintained a cold expression, stepping back two steps.
In the spot where he had stood, the pattern-covered stone slabs had unknowingly been pervaded by a layer of ink-like substance. Nurous tentacle-like, star-dotted writhing things stretched out from the ink, connecting with more shadows appearing in the surrounding air, dancing as if seeking to grasp sothing.
"No need for any further efforts from you," Rosetta spoke coldly, "Dreams’ affairs should remain in dreams."
The star-dotted dark tentacles suddenly quickened their pace, as though enraged, while the portraits which had been kindly conversing monts ago collectively glared, their eyes simultaneously adopting a bloody hue, faces turning hideous, and voices rising with angry rebukes:
"You damned one! We’ve been so earnest in trying to assist you!"
"We hold goodwill, yet you harbor suspicion—you are destined to be a tyrant, a foolish king who betrays ancestral teachings!"
"Your subjects will scorn you, the only end your empire will et is downfall!"
"Return, return to your family, to father and grandfather, we are your true kin, see yourself clearly!"
The rebukes grew louder, blending together, morphing into unintelligible murmurs and shrill screeches. Emperor Rosetta Augustus rely furrowed his brows tighter, retreating quickly step by step, more tendrils erged in the surrounding air, desperately trying to bind him in place. Yet those tendrils dissipated upon contact with Rosetta, fading into a haze, just as things in dreams cannot injure a living being in the real world.
However, Rosetta knew that if he displayed even a shred of hesitation, a hint of weakness or compromise, then these tendrils wouldn’t be so "harmless."
He eventually retreated to the doorway, to a place beyond the reach of those portraits.
"I believe your offer of assistance is sincere—though it would be better if you didn’t think of reuniting with your ’family’ so enthusiastically."
Leaving behind a mocking remark, he decisively exited the room.
The door in the dreamscape slamd shut, sealing the chaotic and mad whispers behind it.
Emperor Rosetta walked along the corridor he had co from, headed toward the outer layer of the palace.
The walls on either side of the corridor were adorned with portraits that ca to life, and all the Augustus ancestors from the past two hundred years erged, showering curses and strange, disorienting whispers at Emperor Rosetta as he passed through, while the twilight glow from outside flickered uneasily, as if the entire palace was alive and filled with anger.
But in the end, none of it could harm the resolute Emperor Rosetta who rejected this nightmare as he swiftly left the most dangerous corridor, moving beyond the scrutiny of those portraits.
In the relatively "normal" great hall, the ubiquitous low murmuring now seed much more welcoming.
Deep within the palace, a barely audible sigh reached Rosetta’s ears, filled with helplessness.
It was the root of the curse, the sigh from the palace’s true master.
For Rosetta, the best response to the voice’s master was—to not respond to Him.
The twilight rays from outside poured in through the tall glass windows of the great hall, casting golden lattice patterns, and compared to the previous mont, these glows no longer shook.
Rosetta exhaled gently, ready to leave the hall and move towards the outer regions of the palace.
But suddenly, he stopped, his gaze fixed on a particular door at one side of the great hall—the handle of the door turned slightly, followed by the door slowly being pushed open, forming a gap.
Rosetta’s mind tightened instantly.
In this palace, each door signified varying degrees of danger, and those that opened by themselves usually bore the deepest malice.
Yet that was not always the case; sotis, the dreamscapes of Augustus family mbers would connect, and at those tis, what stepped through the door could be...
...a figure dressed in a complex black court gown, with soft black hair cascading down, adorned with gold fine chains, appeared before Emperor Rosetta Augustus.
The Typhon Ruler visibly relaxed.
"Father?" Matilda, upon seeing the figure in the hall, also tensed montarily but then sighed in relief upon recognizing Rosetta’s face—living family mbers never beco the evil spirits in this palace, "You too...entered the dream?"
"It seems I’ve entered the dream at the sa ti as you," Rosetta, though relaxed slightly, still maintained his authoritative deanor towards his daughter, "For , it’s already midnight here."
"I’m in the Cecil Imperial Capital, having just fallen asleep; it’s still so ti before midnight here," Matilda said, "Did you do sothing here? I just felt the palace beco exceptionally agitated."
"I went to the deepest part to ask so questions," Rosetta said curtly, "They must be very angry now."
"...Did you encounter danger?"
"Of course, there is no safety here."
Just as Rosetta’s words fell, a piercing scream suddenly echoed from the corridor leading to the deeper sections of the palace, a scream that seed to stir the human mind, causing montary dizziness, and also briefly silencing the murmuring whispers in the great hall.
But soon, the scream faded away, and everything returned to normal.
"...It’s your elder brother," after a few seconds of silence, Rosetta broke the silence and said, "He’s the ’newest one’ here, and his voice occasionally pierces through the corridor’s barrier, affecting this side."
Matilda took a breath, unable to resist speaking softly, "Brother..."
"He’s already gone, a part of this palace," Rosetta said solemnly and earnestly, "Matilda, always rember, rember your boundary with this palace, even though it holds your brother, your grandfather, your uncles and aunts, they have all gone, transford into ’them,’ beings filled with malice here, entities that constantly try to drag you into the deepest danger.
"Only by constantly rembering these will you be safe, and in so future ti, after I too beco a part of this palace, you can still live safely."
Matilda lowered her head: "...I will rember, Father."
Rosetta’s expression eased slightly, and he nodded: "Since we’ve t here, let’s discuss your experiences.
"What kind of place do you perceive Cecil to be?"
User Comments
0 comments from readers