I was turned away from the door working on a chair for the Marshal. It was to be a delicate and intricate work of art. Not my best work, but I was going to be proud of it no matter what. Our city is adorned with my artwork and every piece brings me a sense of pride. To be able to honor our people with my hands is the greatest achievement of my life.
I felt the presence of someone entering my workshop; it seemed as if the room had become brighter. When I turned to welcome my guest, I found myself briefly taken back on my heels. I could not recall having ever met or even seen her before. I was not certain, but she appeared to be bathed in a soft golden light. I felt instantly comfortable and safe in her presence.
I removed my apron and wiped the dust from my hands with a soft white cloth and introduced myself. Before I could even finish she spoke to me. I cannot recall seeing her lips move, but her voice warmed my soul.
She spoke of the corruption of our people. How we had relied on an outside force to guide us down a path of assured destruction. I could not explain it, but her warning felt distant and out of place from what I knew of our people. Though I struggled to understand, I sensed no lies or manipulation.
I believed her.
She explained that she had been waiting for someone like me, that only I had the ability to create for her what she felt we needed most. She then asked me to create something for her commemorating our people, a work of art that would embody the best of who we are. She promised me that it would be my masterpiece.
I believed her.
For an entire year, this task consumed me. Day and night I spent with the doors to my workshop shut to the outside world. I took on no other work as this was my only focus. The task would become my everything.
When I had finished the work, I invited her back. I could tell by the look in her eyes that I had lived up to what she asked of me. I remember a single tear falling from her golden cheek...
I wish I could remember more.
