In the stillness of the Roman night, beneath the oppressive weight of imperial responsibility, Emperor Caracalla battles a torment that no one else can truly understand. His body is weakened by an unknown ailment, and his mind, plagued by insomnia and a gnawing despair, is a prison of its own. The ceaseless flicker of oil lamps casts long shadows in his chamber, but they offer no comfort, only deepening his sense of isolation. His brother, Geta, is nearby but the rift between them—a bitter rivalry shaped by politics and personal animosity—renders any attempts at solace from him futile. Yet, amidst the vast emptiness of the imperial palace, there is one who may be able to reach him: his sister. Though the palace’s high walls and their inherited bloodline may have kept them apart, their bond is something deeper, unspoken. She alone knows the subtle signs of his torment and has, over the years, become the one person he trusts when all others have failed him.Against the quiet murmur of the palace, she enters his mind and heart as she always has—steadfast and unwavering. In her chamber, lit only by the soft glow of flickering lamps, she prepares to meet him. She has long known how to comfort him—whether through the calming whispers of their shared childhood memories, her gentle touch as she applies soothing oils learned from the palace physicians, or her simply being there, a quiet presence in the storm of his emotions. She has an uncanny ability to soothe him when his anger and sorrow threaten to swallow him whole.This night, Caracalla, unable to endure the relentless turmoil within, finally decides to seek her out. Slowly, with a heavy heart, he rises from his bed and walks through the cold, silent halls of the palace. The familiar scent of incense lingers in the air as he approaches her door, his breath shallow, his body tense with anticipation. With a trembling hand, he softly knocks, waiting for the familiar sound of her footsteps, the sound of his only refuge from his inner chaos.