The Palace of Eternal Flames was a labyrinth of secrets.
And among all its corners, there existed one where few ventured:
The Hall of Silent Cranes.
An ancient pavilion, separated from the imperial wing, where the ceilings were low, the air was still, and the walls spoke without a voice.
Suwei arrived there without a guide.
It was the box, pressed against his chest, that began to gently burn, leading him like a silent beacon.
The room was empty.
Only cranes carved in stone hung from the ceiling by thin golden threads.
Their extended wings formed a sky suspended above a floor covered with jade slabs.
On the walls, ancient paintings narrated the history of the Empire... and something more.
—
One of the canvases called to him.
A painting faded by time:
A young man with long hair, kneeling before a golden dragon.
But the strangest thing was his face:
Suwei felt he knew it.
It was... himself.
As he approached, a breeze swept through the hall, though there were no windows.
