Today, I found myself in the imposing presence of His Majesty, the king. The grandness of the throne room, with its towering ceilings and intricately woven tapestries, seemed to amplify the reverence of the moment. The sunlight streamed through stained-glass windows, painting vibrant colors across the polished marble floor, while the air was heavy with the scent of polished wood and aged parchment. As I settled into the ornate chair that faced him—a magnificent piece adorned with gold filigree and deep, royal blue upholstery—I felt a wave of apprehension ripple through me. An unsettling sensation crept over me, coiling tightly around my chest like an iron band. Doubt whispered at the back of my mind, suggesting that perhaps my presence here was premature, that I had trespassed into a realm
