The palace had always been vast, but that night, it felt… hollow.
The lanterns swayed gently in the corridors, their flames steady, yet the shadows behind them seemed to stretch longer than usual, clinging to the walls as if reluctant to let go. Even the marble floors reflected light in a dull, muted way, as though something unseen had dimmed the palace's spirit.
Empress Lian An sat in her courtyard, fingers resting loosely on the arm of her chair. The air felt thick. Heavy. Like the moment before a storm that never came.
She frowned.
Something was wrong.
Not visibly wrong—no screams, no blood, no sudden chaos—but a suffocating stillness that pressed against her skin. Even the wind had grown quiet. The usual chirping of night insects had faded, replaced by a strange, humming silence.
Her chest tightened.
"I don't like this," she murmured.
Beside her, the three ghosts hovered uneasily.
