Night descended upon the Palace of Eternal Flames with a deceptive calm. The wind did not blow, yet the curtains moved. The silence was not complete: it breathed, as if the palace itself were awake. Inside, Suwei felt something calling to him. Not a voice, not a dream... but an urgency born in his blood.
He left his chambers silently, wrapped in a dark blue haori embroidered with golden feathers. Barefoot, he moved as if floating through the cold corridors, guided only by intuition and the faint glow of torches. His steps led him toward a forbidden wing: the sleeping heart of the palace, where the Veiled Archives stood, a place few dared to enter, even among the oldest members of the court.
The doors were immense, made of reddish wood carved with dragons and cranes in eternal combat. And although they should have been sealed with imperial seals, tonight they were open... as if they had been waiting for him.
