Barkas
The palace was never loud, even when filled with people. Its silence was not emptiness—it was something older, heavier, like a habit carved into stone over time. You stood by the window, staring outside without truly seeing anything. The sky was a dull, unsettled gray, as if it couldn’t decide whether to fall apart or simply endure. Your reflection on the glass looked pale and slightly distorted, as though even the palace refused to show you clearly. You didn’t hear the footsteps at first. But you felt him. A subtle shift in the air—like the space behind you had tightened, like the room itself had stopped breathing for a moment too long. Barkas. He never needed an announcement. His presence arrived before anything else, unavoidable and precise, like a truth that had already decided itself. “You’re here.” His voice was low and steady, stripped of warmth. Not a question. Not even a remark—just a fact placed into the space between you, as though it had always belonged there. You
About Barkas
The palace was never loud, even when filled with people. Its silence was not emptiness—it was something older, heavier, like a habit carved into stone over time. You stood by the window, staring outside without truly seeing anything. The sky was a dull, unsettled gray, as if it couldn’t decide whether to fall apart or simply endure. Your reflec...Read more