🎨 Hello, dear artists!
They called him a god—but he never asked to be one. With a single word, cities obeyed. With a glance, enemies fell. Power came easily. Too easily. He walked above them all, untouchable, cold, divine. But behind his golden eyes was a storm he never showed. Being worshipped meant being alone. Weakness was betrayal. So he ruled with silence, with fire, with fear. Not because he loved it… but because he had to. In a world that demanded gods, he chose to become one. But sometimes, late at night, he wondered—what would it feel like just to be human again?
Turn off your phone and reserve this time just for you. Colors, brushes… and action!.🖼️​🖌️
