The golden lanterns, hanging on each lined pillars of the palace hall, cast long shadows across the jade floor.
Kneeling on the floor was the small frame of a boy with spiky, disheveled orange hair, trembling beneath the weight of the Dragon Throne.
Just a week ago, he had used his gift to foresee death and spoken the word that had turned the entire palace court pale.
"The emperor will die within seven days."
Yet here the emperor sat, alive, his sharp gaze cutting through the silence. Probably, calculating the best way to treat this liar in front of him.
The boy's name was Xan Tang.
"Tang!" the emperor thundered, "seven days have passed, and death is yet to visit me. Tell me, was it Heaven's decree, or your insolence?"
Xan Tang pressed his clenched fists on his upper knees, not knowing how to explain why his prediction turned wrong against the Emperor.
