I first wrote this piece ages ago. Today, I revisit and repost it—with a little help from Artificial Intelligence! :-)

The coronation moment arrives.

In reverent silence, the empress-in-waiting advances gracefully.

With every measured step, a Crescent Sword is drawn — sharp, unwavering, resolute.

Beneath the shadow of steel, she ascends her throne.

What is defeat? What is retreat? Mere illusions.

Her decree is absolute.

I am the warrior, known by the righteous — I wield no shield of deceit.

Tremble, you feeble-hearted.

For this is the day you were foretold.