The throne room was empty.
There were no advisors.
There were no witnesses.
There was no Suwei.
Only him. Jin Long.
And that solitude weighed more than any crown, more than any written law, more than the gold and majesty of the Empire. Each tapestry, each pillar, each carved dragon seemed to whisper ancient secrets that only he could hear.
The afternoon light fell slowly, like a golden mantle covering the tapestries embroidered with dragons and phoenixes, and caressed the ancient relics of emperors who had ruled before him. But there was no warmth, no company; only an emptiness that echoed in his chest.
Jin Long walked toward the throne with steps that resonated on the polished stone. Each echo seemed to mark a beat of his heart, solitary and heavy. He rested a hand on the golden backrest and closed his eyes.
And then, he saw him.
