Sferinth for Your Thoughts [4]

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We've already passed the gardens?

I didn't notice that.


Master takes a sharp turn to the right.


We are now passing by the sacred hall,

lined with portraits and scripture—

those of the royal Virideian lineage.


One day, Master will have his own spot

up on these walls.


The thought of such distracts me,

the questions fading in the background.


With each portrait we pass,

a pang of melancholy strikes harder.


These were years of memory—

years of pain, joy, regret, and more—

all stored in a single portrait.

The strokes of ink flowing and clashing

 to create their narrative.


All these notable people

only had portraits and scriptures

to remind the inhabitants of this castle

of their existence.


One moment they were something.

Now they're just some thing.



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