The sun did not rise that day.
The inhabitants of the Golden Dragon Empire awoke to a strange world: twilight covered the fields, and in the sky floated only a dim glow, as if an invisible hand had extinguished the light of the world. Farmers dropped their tools; children who had been running in courtyards stood motionless, clinging to their mothers' skirts. It was as if the very breath of heaven had stopped.
At the heart of the Empire, the bells of the Palace of Eternal Flames rang with urgency. The metallic sound traveled like an ancestral call, breaking the ominous silence that had spread with the failed dawn.
In the war room, Suwei stood before the great map spread across the jade table. His fingers trembled slightly as they traced the lines marking borders and rivers, but his gaze was fixed on the candles. Each burned weakly, with an unstable flame that seemed about to extinguish.
