He was walking, his eyes calm.
The rosy sunset spread across the sky, and hyacinths bloomed enthusiastically. The wind was so strong that it messed up my hair and filled my robes, making a hunting sound.
He was walking, his face calm.
Many faces passed by. Familiar and unfamiliar. Bright, or shocking.
He just watched.
Finally, he stopped. Among the thorns, he drew out his sword and scepter.
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In fact, all in all, this is the story of a child who likes to look up to the light in the shadows, is swallowed up by darkness, and finally grows into a dark monarch.
Maybe... A little bit of dark wind(?). Maybe it's HE.
That's it (the incompetent Beiming bursts into tears~) ps: Newbie writes, please support