Dr. Aurelia rushed to the rehabilitation center, only to find it was too late. She sank onto the green velvet bench in the corridor, her fingers tightly gripping the golden armrests. The heavy burden of failure settled on her shoulders. She felt as though she had failed her patients, her team of scientists, everyone who had trusted her.

  This was the third patient Dr. Aurelia had lost in the past month. She had done everything in her power to keep him alive. She had been hopeful that her treatment might have worked this time. She had devoted her life to fighting the sickness she named "the dark fume."

  The dark fume would begin slowly, with thin tendrils of smoke rising from the palms of an Ars Pherian, as if something were burning beneath the skin. The fumes would spread throughout their body, growing darker and denser over time. Within five to ten years, the condition would cause the patient to lose their mind, and eventually, their life.

  The rehabilitation center had originally been designed to accommodate just fifty patients, but in the last six months, the number of cases had doubled rapidly. Soon, they would need a much larger facility. One that, as it stood, could offer nothing more than a slow path to death. No advancements in Ars Pherian medical technology could explain what was happening. Aurelia, both a doctor and a bio-scientist, was almost ready to believe that something beyond science, some dark magic, was at work.

  The white walls of the rehabilitation center were adorned with murals, illustrations, and colorful curtains. A young artist from the University of Terra Nova Fine Arts perched high on a giant ladder, was adding the finishing touches to a large mural on the dome ceiling. He painted angels with outstretched wings and blue birds soaring above the clouds. In the large entrance hall, a music ensemble played the E minor concerto, the sound of the grand piano echoing off the acoustically designed walls. A funeral ceremony would soon take place. No one would cry.

  Aurelia left the rehabilitation center and made her way toward the Senate Building in Terra Nova’s city center. She basked in the sun’s warmth as her solar-powered carriage glided along the Camino Reale down through the city center. Her pink silk dress fluttered in the breeze like a butterfly, while her antique necklace, adorned with rubies and diamonds, sparkled and shimmered with emotional color hues dissolving on her delicate neck.

  From the top of the hill, she gazed down at the construction site on the far west side of the bay, ruins still standing as a stark contrast to the architectural beauty of Terra Nova. Soon, all those grey ruins of the past would be nothing more than history. It had been centuries since anyone had lived there. The Ars Pherians had built Terra Nova after their perception of life had shifted, along with the refined emotions they had learned to harvest once again. Love, passion, devotion, obsession, rage, fury, resentment, each one pure and controlled, expertly shaped by the precision of Ars Pherian biology. The Roman-inspired architecture of Terra Nova stood as a testament to this new era, a blend of emotional refinement and Earthly roots, history intertwined with perfection. A world of sophisticated artistic mastery.

  Aurelia parked her solar-powered carriage and began walking. A sudden breeze swept tiny spring flowers from the cherry trees, their petals settling in her black hair. She didn’t bother to brush them off and continued toward the main entrance.

  The Senate, a modern-neoclassical building, stood to the left of Piazza Terra Nova. Its seven marble columns symbolized Emperor Calocius and the six Senate members who had once led the charge to open the forbidden portal for the Ars Pherian’s use, sparking the revolution in Ars Pheria.

  In the center of the Piazza stood a gold-plated statue of a man and a woman. Together, they held a colorful bundle of wires that stemmed from the woman’s heart. The man gazed at the vibrant colors in astonishment, while the woman looked at him with a faint smile, as if questioning his wonder.

  This man, Romano Arno, a descendant of the Byzantines, was the first Ars Pherian to pass through the portal and find himself on Earth in the early sixteenth century, according to Earth’s timeline. When he returned, he was a different person. No Ars Pherian , biologically rational from birth to death , would believe him, unless they had seen it with their own eyes. The second expedition group ventured to Earth through the portal to verify Romano Arno’s claims. They said, “We could see the emotional colors of an Earthian. Our skin could soak in and drink their emotions. It never felt better.” Romano Arno and the Ars Pherians had tasted the sweet flavor of human emotions, emotions that Ars Pherians could see in fuming color auras. Colors that the once-grey, rational minds of the Ars Pherians would come to crave and depend on from that moment forward.

  As Dr. Aurelia entered the Senate building, a wave of cold from the marble floors and walls sank down on her light silk dress giving a chill on her slender shoulders. She wished she had her cloak with her, but in the rush of leaving home this morning, it hadn’t crossed her mind. She would have maids to carry it for her, if she was still the emperor’s wife.

  It had been nearly twenty years since Lady Aurelia and Emperor Sephianos got separated. Separation of couples after a certain while of marriage was a common rational act in Ars Pheria. The Emperor, ninety years old at the time of separation, never re-married. He was too old for another relationship. Besides, he already had a daughter with his first wife, and a son with Lady Aurelia.

  Aurelia was expected to marry again after the separation. She was still young and beautiful. Yet, she rejected her admirers, most of whom would see this marriage as a rational step in their political careers. Instead, she devoted her life to her medical studies on the sickness. A rather expected decision from an Ars Pherian scientist.

  Aurelia headed for the Emperor’s quarters, located in the left wing of the Senate Building. Large windows framed the generous beauty of Ars Pheria’s landscape, as Terra Nova began to shift into its spring colors. She walked through the empty marble corridors of the building. Ars Pherian Emperors never needed guards or security. The secretarial officers guided her to the formal chambers, where she waited for almost an hour.

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Aurelia finally heard the familiar rhythmic sound of the Emperor’s steps drawing closer to the chambers. As he approached, Aurelia smiled, admiring his natural glamour. The Emperor’s red cape was fastened at his left shoulder by a brooch decorated with red and green gemstones in the shape of a rose and rose petals. His grey, curly hair cascaded down to his shoulders. He looked tall and well-built, despite his age.

  “My Lady Aurelia, a delight to see you. I wish I had been informed of your visit. I regret keeping you waiting,” he said, his gaze softening as he noticed her pale face. “Is everything all right, Doctor?”

  That morning, Emperor Sephianos was busy with the Senate’s vote on the approval of Tramonto’s construction. The second new city, to be called ‘Tramonto,’ was set to be built on the grey ruins of the abandoned old city, located on the west coast of the Northern Bay, offering spectacular sunsets by the sea. The Emperor wanted construction to begin as soon as Prince Alessandro returned from Rome. He hoped that the public’s excitement over the new city would overshadow the negative perception of Alessandro’s unusually long visits to Earth and help him transition smoothly back into his political duties.

  “Sephianos, always a pleasure to see you,” said Aurelia. The Emperor’s wives and ex-wives were privileged to address the Ars Pherian emperors by their imperial names. “I wanted to deliver the unfortunate news personally. We lost Signore Bralen today. You know he fought the sickness for so long.”

  Signore Bralen was an old friend of Emperor Sephianos, a brilliant engineer who had served Ars Pheria for many years. He had re-designed the city’s water and sewer systems to accommodate the growing population. Devoted to the Ars Pherian philosophy of modicum machinery and modicum industrialization, Bralen believed that all goods and merchandise in Ars Pheria should be hand-made. Machines were reserved for hard labor, mostly in construction, agriculture, and mining. Ars Pherians took pride in wearing handmade silk clothes, eating from handmade ceramic plates, writing letters on paper, and listening to live orchestral music. Life itself was a form of art on Ars Pheria, and machines played no part in their daily existence.

  Emperor Sephianos lowered his head, and closed his eyes as if he wanted to wake up from a bad dream.

  “Aurelia, tell me... where is this going?” he asked his eyes closed.

  Aurelia hesitated, her eyes narrowing with worry. The Emperor was asking a question for which Aurelia did not know the definitive logical answers.

  “There’s a troubling correlation between the rise in sickness and the increased use of the portal. The portal... it seems to be weakening. I fear the dark fume of the sickness might share the same source as the darkness of the portal itself. It gets under our skin, infiltrates us. We may have no choice but to stop using it altogether.”

  The old Emperor’s face tightened, a deep furrow forming between his brows as he absorbed Aurelia’s words. He slowly lifted his head, his gaze sharp with concern.

  “We can’t stop going to Earth, Aurelia. You know that,” he said, his voice steady but filled with an undercurrent of unease. “We can’t go back to the old gray days before the revolution. We’ve built everything on this connection. And as for the sickness... why now? Why is it starting now, when we’ve been using the portal for decades without an issue?” He paused, his eyes locking onto hers. “What’s changed?”

  "I have no proof, only statistical data," Aurelia answered sharply. "Just as our understanding of physics cannot explain the portal, medicine cannot explain the sickness."

  Sephianos gazed at the ceramic sculpture of a delicate angel on his desk. It was an antique piece from the early seventeenth century Earth, an artifact that would have been displayed the halls of a prestigious museum had it not been smuggled to Ars Pheria centuries ago. Even now, it still pulsed with the faint, colorful fumes of human emotions embedded within it. As the Emperor lifted the statue, the vibrant colors began to dissolve, seeping through his skin. He held it out in his hand and showed it to Aurelia.

  “Do you see the beauty? Do you see the emotions embedded in the tiny form of this angel?”

  “Yes, it’s beautiful, almost as if it’s alive,” Aurelia smiled.

  Without warning, Sephianos slammed the sculpture onto the marble floor. The delicate angel shattered into countless pieces, its fragments scattering across the chamber. The violent outburst was entirely out of character for an Ars Pherian, where restraint and reason were the foundation of every action. Aurelia flinched but remained composed, her expression calm and devoted. She knew that such an impulsive act could not be without purpose. She stood still, waiting for the Emperor to offer his explanation.

  “Aurelia, if we stop using the portal, we can’t go to Earth,” he said, each word heavy with conviction. “If we stop harvesting human emotions, we’ll lose everything. We’ll return to the old gray days, to the cold, unfeeling existence we once had. Our refined emotions, these feelings we harvest from humans, they’re what make us who we are today. They’ve given us art, philosophy, progress… all that we’ve built. If we lose them, we become nothing but a society of living stones. We’ll strip away the beauty from this world and everything we've worked for. I can’t allow that. We must continue using the portal. We must continue harvesting emotions.”

  Sephianos didn't allow Aurelia to interrupt.

  “Nor can we awaken the awareness of our suppressed animal nature,” he said quietly. “That is all I can say for now. Please, do not discuss this with anyone else but me.”

  Aurelia watched Emperor Sephianos leave his chambers and join his daughter, Princess Perla, who was waiting for him. Together, they walked along the corridor to the Senators Hall. Aurelia watched the aging emperor holding his daughter’s hand. She saw Perla’s cold eyes warming as she looked at her father. Aurelia looked down at her palms and closed her fists tightly. It was not the right time to judge the decisions of the past or to measure the possibilities of the future.

  I, the loyal Ghull of the Asaha, witnessed vast greatness.

  A witness to all, I bore the weight of the tyrant’s guilt.

  I appeared before a shah who was filled with hatred.

  I appeared before a sultan who spread kindness elated.

  I appeared before an emperor, old but bright.

  He was a thief and a knight, all in the same heart.

  You would surely respect Sephianos,

  Rational and reasonable, a walking tree of sanity.

  Coherent foundation of the society.

  An Ars Pherian would see the chaos in your heart with their many eyes on their skin. They had been the thieves around you, stealing the colors reflected from your hearts. If you’d ever cross paths with the gentle soul of an Ars Pherian, you would not hesitate to share the colors of your heart, readily given.

  If you were to one day visit Ars Pheria, you would look around to witness art in the most remarkable and unique beauty talent could achieve, life in the most exceptional ways civilization could reach, and people in the most bizarre perfection existence could conceive.

  I, the loyal Ghull of the Asaha, saw the ugly face of perfection in human nature...

  "I saw the ugly face of perfection in human nature."