"Look at this," the Emperor muttered, gesturing to the eternal city. "My legacy is written in granite."
But tucked in the shadow behind him stood a slave, small and unremarkable, clutching the rim of the chariot. As the Emperor waved to the masses, the slave leaned forward, his breath cold against the ruler’s ear.
"Don't you forget about dying," the slave whispered, his voice a dry rasp that cut through the thunder of the crowd. "Don't you forget about your friend death."
The Emperor’s smile didn't falter, but his grip on the chariot’s rail tightened. He looked at the vast monuments built in his name—stone and marble designed to last forever.