Night fell heavily over the Dragon Palace. The air was thick, humid, electric, as if the sky itself held its breath.
Jin Long couldn't sleep.
Since the dragon's judgment, something within him had twisted. He felt a persistent heat, deep, not physical. Like burning embers under his skin, coursing through his veins. The imperial seal, tattooed on his back since his proclamation, throbbed like a second heart.
He secluded himself in his chambers, dismissing the company of guards. He untied the ribbons of his tunic, walking naked to the obsidian mirror. The reflected figure was his, yes... but his eyes gleamed golden.
Then he felt it.
He was not alone.
Miles away, in a more modest room, Suwei awoke abruptly. The same fire. The same pressure. The same burning beneath the skin.
She fell to her knees, gasping. Her chest illuminated with an ancient symbol, as if her own soul marked her: the silhouette of a white crane surrounded by flames.
