The hall of the Imperial Council of Ancestors was a circle of polished stone, enclosed by walls covered in ancient canvases.
On each: scenes of sacred pacts, forgotten wars, and coronations marked by celestial fire.
Suwei stood in the center, surrounded by those sages who controlled the roots of the Empire.
Their faces were severe, their voices measured centuries, not emotions.
The old woman in the northern seat spoke first.
"House Jinhai was strong. And then, it fell.
Many said its lineage was broken... but the Eternal Flame does not extinguish without heaven's permission."
Another councilor, with a white beard and eyes dark as ink, stared at him intently.
"You were born on the day of the red eclipse. Did you know that?"
Suwei nodded slowly.
His mother had told him... once, through tears.
"That day," the man continued, "the imperial fire trembled. The markings on the throne glowed without reason.
And a jade dragon, in the secret chamber, awakened for the first time in five hundred years."
The silence thickened.
Suwei felt the box beneath his robe burning again.
The old woman spoke again, this time in a lower voice, almost reverent:
"There are texts... ancient ones.
They speak of a 'Pure Heart born in the Mist,'
Who will awaken the Dragon's lineage
When the throne's blood is sealed... and the world, on the edge of fracturing."
A whisper ran through the hall:
The Prophecy of the Dragon Consort.
A third councilor pointed at him with a trembling finger.
"And you... bear the mark."
Suwei frowned.
"Mark?"
The woman nodded.
"When you were a child... on a full moon night, did you feel heat on your back? A burn without fire?"
Suwei remained silent.
He remembered that moment. A reddish mark, shaped like an open circle... that disappeared at dawn.
"That mark appears only once every thousand years." The old man raised a scroll and unrolled it before everyone.
"The first Dragon Consort had it.
And now, you."
Suwei took a deep breath.
He didn't know whether to believe. He didn't know whether to run.
But then, the blue flame of the imperial torch trembled again.
And a painting on the wall—of a young man kneeling before a dragon—cracked, letting white ash fall to the floor.
The southern elder murmured solemnly:
"Destiny has already begun to turn.
And you... are at its center."
That night, in his assigned chamber, Suwei sat before the box.
He opened it carefully.
The flame inside rose as if breathing.
And for the first time, he heard it clearly:
"The seal will break when the soul claims it.
And the fire... will roar again."
Suwei closed his eyes.
And inside, something awakened.