The Last Strokes Of Divine

Soleil woke to the soft light of morning brushing against the walls of her room. For a moment, everything felt distant like she had surfaced from a dream she wasn't meant to.

Her eyes blinked open slowly.

The ceiling was familiar. The thin blanket. The faint smell of lavender soap clinging to the edges of her pillow. She was back in her old servant quarters.

But something was wrong. Or maybe too quiet.

She sat up slowly, and the ache in her limbs reminded her that last night had been real. The Sanctum. The Divine Brush. The voices. The pain. And….

Her breath caught.

Someone had pulled her out. Someone had held her.

She clutched the fabric of her blanket, trying to recall whose arms had steadied her, whose voice had cut through the storm. But her memory blurred at the edges. All she could remember was warmth… and the scent of ashes.

Before she could chase the memory further, a soft knock sounded at the door.

She looked up.

A servant stood in the threshold, a girl she didn't recognize.

The young maid stepped in, her movements too smooth, too precise. "Stewardess Martha has asked you to resume your duties at the Emperor chambers immediately "she said

Soleil nodded , expecting her to leave. But the girl lingered.

Their eyes met. For a heartbeat, something strange flickered in the maid's gaze,sharp and unreadable. Almost hostile.

Then it was gone.

Without a word, the maid turned and slipped out, the door closing silently behind her.

Soleil stared after her, unsettled. She couldn't explain why, but the room felt colder now.

After the maid left, Soleil didn't waste a moment. she still couldn't figure out what went wrong at the sanctum, and why she had suddenly been in so much pain. She felt very hopeless , was there truly no way back?

But now wasn't the time to ponder and dwell on that, she had things to do.

She dressed quickly, tying her hair back with fingers that trembled slightly. Her chest still ached faintly from the incident in the Sanctum, She wasn't able to fulfill her duties to the emperor last night and she hoped she wouldn't get into any trouble for that.

She slipped into the corridors like a shadow, her steps quick and quiet. As she neared the Emperor's private wing, the marble beneath her slippers seemed colder, the silence heavier.

She paused before the tall black doors of his chambers. Her hand hovered midair, heart thudding. She tried to gather herself, to steel her mind but before her knuckles could touch wood, the doors creaked open on their own,

ushering her into a vast space cloaked in shadows.

She stepped into the emperor's chambers hesitating and was met with silence. The space was vast , draped in shadows and the air was cool , with thick curtains sealing out the morning light. Only a few lamps burned low, casting a dull glow over the elegant furnishings. There was the smell of ash and something she couldn't tell, Everything felt still. Empty. He wasn't there.

she couldn't find him.

Was he not here?

Had she misunderstood her instructions? Was she meant to wait?.

"Slacking off on your first day isn't such a good first impression sunshine."

His voice, calm but firm came from the farthest corner , so deep in shadow she hadn't seen him at all. She spun, heart nearly leaping out of her chest. He was seated there, perfectly still, as if sculpted from the darkness itself.

He stood with a grace that was almost too quiet.

Crossing the chamber, he made his way toward a low table near the bed. He poured himself a glass of water from a decanter made of smoky crystal, and only then did the gloom recede enough for her to see him clearly.

"Perhaps you've grown too fond of the servant quarters," he said, his voice smooth, unreadable.

She could hear it fully now, his voice. It had weight. Texture. A deep, measured cadence like a whispered verdict. It was the first time she'd heard it, so closely, so directly. Her stomach twisted.

"Couldn't find your way to the upper wing?" he asked, finally turning toward her.

His gaze met hers—and held.

He was beautiful.

Not in the delicate way of paintings or stories, but in a way that rooted you to the floor. Strong features framed by long black hair, a mouth made to command silence, and eyes so green they seemed fathomless. But beneath that beauty was something else coiled danger, something broken and barely bound.

Realizing she'd been staring far too long, she jerked her eyes down and bowed sharply, Silently berating herself for ogling at him.

"I…" Her throat tightened, the words catching before they could take shape. "I didn't mean to… I just—"

But she stopped. Nothing she said would make sense. Nothing would sound right.

She had no excuse.

Well… if he's going to punish me, he might as well just get on with it, she thought, trying not to sigh.

This world , the customs, the endless courtesies, or the cold grandeur of the palace, was all foreign and strange to her but if compliance and fitting in meant keeping her freedom here, she'd bow until she found a way out.

So old fashioned

What year is this?,she realized she never checked.

"I wonder what punishment would be suitable for failing your duties… Sunshine."he spoke again.

She froze.

Wait.

Her breath hitched. Did he just… hear that?

Could he read her mind, she panicked.

And sunshine?

There it was again. That word.

She hadn't misheard him earlier. He had called her that. "Sunshine."

But why?

Was the person Azeriah close to him?

But first she wasn't really serious with the punishment thing , she had seen quite a number of things in this world and she know how far and dangerous a "simple punishment" can get. She didn't want such fate for herself

Bowing more deeply now, she whispered, "I apologize, Your Majesty. It won't happen again."

He watched silently not uttering a word.

Panic curled in her chest. She needed to say something, anything that might please him.

"I'm ready to serve you now," she said softly.

"Are you?" he murmured, brushing a finger along the rim of the glass before lifting it to his lips. "Then begin."