Brilliant flames consumed the pavilion, tendrils of thick black smoke trailing after burning orange. Heaven's wrath itself had descended upon the household. A monstrous serpent, the raging inferno coiled around the building, devouring everything in its path and strangling all life. Its hunger would never be satiated; it would not stop until the entire land was nothing but ashes.

With smoke suffocating her lungs and blinding her vision, Ngọc stumbled through the corridors. Sharp and acrid, the toxic fumes overwhelmed her senses. "Má!" the princess wailed, but her voice was only lost in the crackling. 

A blazing wooden beam shattered to the ground and sent a burst of splinters in the air that missed the girl by mere inches. Coughing and shaking, she screamed and stumbled to her knees. In the distance was a blur of fabric—fluttering robes of a woman running out. She wiped her bleary eyes and crawled in the same direction. Heat radiated from the ground and burned her skin red. 

"Come on!" shouted a voice. Frantic. Male. A hand seized her wrist and yanked Ngọc to her feet. She could barely detect a towering figure before her. 

"My mother went the other direction," she panted when he pulled her into a run. Her foot slammed against a loose board, sending a sharp pain shooting through her leg. "We have to turn around!"

The stranger's grip only tightened on her. "They're waiting. They'll kill you when they find you."

He pulled her into a dark corridor. His hold never loosened and his pace never slowed. Through bleary eyes, the girl could distinguish the servants' quarters. Black and dusty with none of the golden luxury that decorated the rest of the estate. Secret passageways meant for the lower class to slip in and out unnoticed. They scurried into one, refugees in the darkness.

Faster and faster they absconded, darting through a doorway that opened to a moonlit courtyard. Behind them, the house collapsed while the blaze devoured the structure. Still, not once did the hand release her. Despite her throbbing chest and stinging eyes, Ngọc pushed herself to continue moving. Her head whipped around for one last glimpse of the home she'd grown up in. In the middle of burning crimson stood a majestic jade dragon statue in verdant green. 

Compelled by an unknown force, she halted. Her feet remained rooted in one spot. Bursting with undulating white light, the dragon flickered to life and rose its head as though in a ferocious roar, its shining eyes meeting hers. Then it froze. In a blast of dust, the statue crumbled, and bits and cracked pieces of jade tumbled to the ground. 

"What are you doing?" the male demanded. 

"The dragon statue! It moved—"

"You're seeing things. Come on!"

Cursing, he yanked Ngọc after him, causing her to nearly twist her other ankle while she tried to keep up. Spurring herself on, she ignored the ache in her legs and throbbing pain in her foot. Fire raged through the compound. Flames licked her heels until she stumbled through the gateway and into the fragile safety of the forest shadows. 

Undoubtedly, the soldiers lit the entire pavilion on fire in hopes that anyone in hiding would be forced out. Futile screams and pleas rang through the air in the distance while the imperial army wrestled sobbing innocents into a cluster. Her eyes stung again—this time from tears—but Ngọc didn't bother wiping them away. Despite the tree branches that clawed at her clothes and scratched her face, she didn't slow down until the army was out of earshot. Finally, the stranger's grip loosened on her, and their pace slowed to a halt. 

Her knees buckled. She collapsed against a tree while her body convulsed with severe coughs. It had rained the night before, the fragrance of wet earth mixing with the lingering scent of acrid smoke, and slopping mud stained the hem of her clothes. Up close in the blackness of night, her savior's features were more visible: long black hair, thick brows, sharp almond eyes.

A servant. The same servant who brought the family meals during dinner, scrubbed the floors clean, and swept the halls. His job had been to remain invisible like household furniture. With a lanky form that towered over her, he was far from invisible now. Being so close, she realized he wasn't much older than her—only by two or three years.

"I'm Minh," he said.

"They've arrested your family," he continued. "Others who attempted to escape were killed for obstructing the law."

"I know," she hissed. Any grave offense—real or otherwise—against the Emperor induced the death of an entire bloodline. Her father, the esteemed Son of Heaven, was never to be trifled with.

Ngọc shook her head. Her fingers curled into the grass until her knuckles turned white and her hands shook. The emperor and the crown prince were dead. Poisoned. Both had collapsed shortly after a visit to her mother at the villa he'd gifted her family. When doctors claimed there was foul play at hand, the royal court was quick to point fingers, eager to revel in her family's downfall.

"My mother is innocent," Ngọc insisted. The woman who poured her tea and comforted her after a nightmare was no murderer.

Minh grimaced. "Not according to the future empress dowager."

Thị Anh. Ngọc shivered and wrapped her arms around herself while her ghostly-white hands trembled. "She's no empress."

Fox monster was a more accurate term. The princess recalled the times she'd met her father's other wives. They'd all been polite and gracious, but Thị Anh's gaze was burned into her memory. There was no kindness in her eyes; instead resided a burning black cold that swallowed the light. An exquisite face devoid of warmth, looking instead as though it had been carved from ice. Beneath her smooth porcelain complexion and red-painted smiles burrowed an inhuman viciousness.

"Her son will be crowned emperor. There's no stopping that."

"I hate her," Ngọc whispered. The words hung in the darkness, the weight of their undeniable truth terrifying. The thought that she could hold such ill will rattled her to the core. A pit of shame formed in her stomach. What would her mother think of her now?

A twig cracked and Minh clasped a hand around her mouth. His eyes flicked from left to right before settling on a void between the trees. 

"What is it?" she hissed.

"Quiet." One hand curled around a rock, and he hurled it into a bush. Narrowly dodging it, an imperial soldier clad in silver uniform surfaced in the moonlight. His scarred, soot-covered face smiled, revealing pointy yellowed teeth redolent of a hungry wolf. He unsheathed his sword and sauntered closer to the pair.

"I should've known the little princess was here." He sneered at the title. "Thái Hậu will be pleased to have your head along with your precious mother." 

When Ngọc scrambled away, her incapacitated limbs spasmed—trembling hands, debilitated legs. The soldier was at least two heads taller and twice her weight.

"Don't struggle. You'll only make this harder than it has to be." In an instant, he latched onto her arm and twisted her closer. Burning hot pain shot through her arm and slammed a fist against his grip. A scream. Black spotting her vision. 

With a sharp screech, she lunged at him and clawed wildly. Her nails dug in the man's skin and face, making him growl. Her head throbbed. Yet Ngọc continued attacking with no sense of logic or direction. Her fingers found their way into his eyes and dug deeper—scratching, tearing until he grew blind. 

The sword clattered to the ground, and the soldier's meaty hands clasped her throat while red leaked down his face. Tighter and tighter they pressed. She scrambled for any leverage she could wield to pry from his grip. Any longer and her windpipe would be crushed. Ngọc released a strangled noise and raked her nails down his arms. Not once would she stop. If she died now, defiance would be her last gift to the world. 

Abruptly, the pressure disappeared. The girl landed face-first in the dirt while gasping for air. In the corner of her blurry vision was steel and blossoming crimson. Holding the hilt of a blade that sliced into the soldier's arm was Minh, frozen in shock and horror. Red-faced and heaving, the soldier rammed Ngọc into the ground with his uninjured arm. His hands tangled in her hair and yanked her head—nearly snapping it off her neck. In desperation, her own jaw opened and clamped down on his Adam's apple. Her teeth tore at flesh until she swallowed the metallic taste of blood. 

Tears stung her eyes while she choked and coughed. The soldier howled in pain and his body trembled. Using her remaining strength, Ngọc forced herself to roll away. Minh dove forward and hauled the man away from her. Taking the sword, he jammed it into the soldier's throat. Blood splayed across his face and the body. She faced the ground and spat red at the dirt. Her mouth felt stained, poisoned. 

Bitter bile coated her mouth. Her stomach lurched and nausea overtook her. Heavens, there was blood coating her teeth and tongue. His blood. With a sudden retch, she leaned forward and vomited. Her body convulsed and her raw, sore fingers scraped at her throat while the dry-heaves set in. Even when nothing remained to throw up, the soldier's blood still clung to her insides and the girl wanted to gag all over again.

Only in the stifling silence and shroud of shadows did Ngọc allow the salty tears to fall. Her entire body trembled with exhaustion. Minh's arms draped around her shoulders and he helped her into an upright sitting position. Forcefully, she wiped at her face. 

"Why did you save me?" She cringed at the way her voice sounded, unsteady and trembling, punctuated with ragged breaths. The pain from her injured foot began to set in now that the adrenaline wore off. A blotchy black and purple bruise spread across the pale skin. 

Minh rubbed at his cheek with a sleeve but only succeeded in smearing the blood across his skin. Marking him an associate in her crime, the telltale crimson stained him as much as it did her. His unwavering eyes, black in the obsidian night, stared right back at her. He remained silent for a moment before finally answering. "I don't know." 

The words—barely a whisper hanging in the air—fueled the fire in her heart. "You should've let me die. Burning might've been better than whatever fate I may meet."

Silence. Part of her ached for him to tell her she was wrong, but Ngọc knew he could promise nothing. The soldier they'd narrowly escaped was only one of thousands. The thought of falling into the hands of the empress and her imperial army rattled Ngọc to her core.

"I hate you," she told him. Ngọc refused to meet his gaze and kept her eyes focused on the trees before her. They loomed high above her, branches outstretched, clustered together, silhouettes of beastly demons in the blackness. Her fingers coiled around the jade bracelet on her left wrist. 

"My apologies."

"That doesn't mean anything." Apologies were no different from pity: a false and hollow substitute for true empathy that only satisfied the giver. Never the receiver.

"In that case, never mind," Minh snapped, his expression hardening. His hands grasped the hilt and tugged the sword out of the corpse. Then he knelt down and carefully unclasped the scabbard from the slain soldier's side. 

Ngọc made no motion to stand and instead closed her eyes while her hands dropped into her lap. "What will you do, execute me yourself?" 

"We should move. Maybe the army will think you died in the fire, but a weapon will come in handy." 

"Just leave." 

The dark cold enveloped her frail body; the thin fabric of her clothes was no match for the frigid winds. Sharper than the cold, cutting deeper a knife, fear embedded itself in her chest. Out in the world, Ngọc had no friends or allies. Even if Thị Anh never discovered her, who would be willing to help a ragged girl? It would be better to fall asleep and let the chill take her than attempt survival. The thought was almost tantalizing. At least she'd leave the world in peace.

Minh extended a hand. "Come on. Please." 

Cretinous servant, risking his life to save her. Needlessly endangered himself. Of all people, why was it her he'd saved? Not her mother, not her grandfather, but her. 

At Ngọc's lack of response, Minh's fingers wrapped around her wrist and pulled Ngọc to her feet. His grip was unyielding. A jolt of pain shot through her foot the second she placed weight on it, but she bit back a cry. The night had been marked by enough tears. There were none left to shed.  

"Perhaps we can seek shelter in a monastery or house," Minh suggested. "We can tell them we were attacked by wolves."

Ngọc vaguely recalled a temple in the area run by a lone kindly monk, a martial arts master who befriended her grandfather. She hadn't visited in years. Did he know of her family's pending execution? Would he even recognize her? 

"Why do you insist on helping?" she asked.

"I don't want the risk I took to be in vain." He held himself furiously upright despite his bruised form, trampling leaves and twigs beneath his feet as he moved forward. For every stride he took, she needed two quick steps to keep up.

Teeth chattering, body quivering, Ngọc wrapped her arms around herself. If only she'd thought to take a robe to wear over her nightclothes. The raging heat of the inferno had long vanished and left behind the chill of coming winter. Now her mother's estate was mere ashes. Any survivors would have been captured for beheading. Hanging, if the empress-to-be was merciful.

And yet Ngọc knew Thái Hậu would be anything but. The ultimate punishment, decapitation ensured the body was severed in two, which prevented the immortal spirit from living on after execution. A sob lodged itself in her throat. Her mother, her grandparents, her family. The thought of them shackled and dragged along by soldiers like livestock burned into her mind. A bitter taste stung her tongue. Thị Anh would ensure the bloodline's complete destruction.

To his credit, Minh remained quiet. From what she remembered, he'd been taken into the household as an orphan with no family to return to. His footfalls were steady a lulling rhythm that eased her mind while they walked in silence, a servant and a fugitive princess. The sky through the trees had lightened from an inky black to the violet and gold of dawn.

"Thank you," Ngọc mumbled.

He nodded in acknowledgment and the quiet once again settled between them. The girl gritted her teeth while trudged through the forest while her hands remained raised to block any unseen branches. The throbbing ache in her foot intensified with each step and yet she forced herself to continue. The alternative—being caught by the imperial army—was worse. Pain was temporary, death wasn't. She knew now that if she lost, there would be no chance to avenge her family.  

"Down there," whispered Minh.

Nestled behind lush green plants peeked out flat, round stones that formed a winding, narrow path. Raging night had broken into dawn. Under the rusted yellow light of the rising sun, they shone brighter than gold. The pair stumbled down the steps and followed the path to a modest archway. Minh's hands steadied her while Ngọc struggled through the uneven ground with her injured foot. Behind clusters of leaves stood a modest building with a sloping roof that curved elegantly at the edges. At the entrance was a grand dragon statue, not unlike the one she saw move earlier.  

"So this is it," she muttered. The girl raised a hand and her fingertips brushed against the statue, which was cool and smooth to the touch. Then she withdrew her arm and frowned. "We don't even know if anyone will help us."

Ngọc refused to allow herself relief. Hope, that sticky and too-sweet liquid she ached to choke down. What a cunning and wicked artifice that sugared reality and masked its evil. After all, there was no guarantee finding a monastery would bring her safety. Hope had failed her—miserably so—and now all she had was desperation.

Minh merely spared her a glance while he stepped forward and grasped the knocker. Alas, the carved creature simply stared back with empty marble eyes. Minh's tanned face was covered in grime. Sweat coated his limp hair, and the bags under his eyes were more prominent in the growing light of dawn. Ngọc looked no better. Perhaps worse since she'd bore the brunt of the soldier's attacks.  

The doors opened to reveal a monk dressed in long brown robes. He was short and stocky with thick brows and a graying beard. His mouth fell open at the sight of the two—a terrifying sight with their disheveled hair and blood-stained clothes. Minh's lip trembled and he bowed his hand in reverence. Ngọc immediately did the same. 

"Please, we need your help," she murmured. Did he know already of her mother's framed crime, of her family's sentencing to disgrace? Did he know that she should be worse than dead? Ngọc wouldn't blame him if he turned them in. No doubt he'd receive a hefty reward. 

For a moment, his dark eyes settled on their faces and his brow furrowed. Finally, he said, "You are welcome here for as long as you need." The monk stepped aside and opened the doors wider for them to enter. 

Her eyes narrowed, but she bit her tongue. Minh's hand slipped around her wrist and gently tugged her forward. Even now, she understood the silent gesture: they had nothing to lose. The monk led Ngọc and Minh down the narrow halls and to spare rooms where they'd have the opportunity to wash up. The girl forced a smile on her face and thanked him graciously, imitating the practiced way her mother would charm the imperial court. 

Behind the sanctuary of closed walls, Ngọc peeled off her clothes and gathered them into a pile on the floor. Thereupon she crouched over the wash bin and splashed water on her face. In the basin, red mixed in with the dirt and grime, marring the water's clear purity. All the soot and blood clinging to her skin was scrubbed off, the water washing away any remnant of the previous Ngọc with it. Still, she scrubbed and scrubbed until her skin was red and raw.

As she dried off and dressed in the provided linen tunic, she knew then with a hollow feeling that the past her was gone—destroyed. Completely burned to ashes with the rest of her home and everything she knew.

A flame of anger flickered in her chest, and she stoked the fire until it burnt away exhaustion. From the ashes of her former self rose the new her. Blinding, unadulterated hatred pulsed through her veins and beat through her body; she quivered with a smoldering rage that scorched the edges of her sorrow. Thus, she clung to the fury, the loathing, and armored her heart with it. Invincible and insatiable, it devoured all else inside of her and conquered her heart. There remained no room for anything else. Not doubt, not fear. She'd find security in hate—she must, lest grief would drown her in all its miserable glory.

The next time she met Thị Anh—Empress Dowager or otherwise—she'd raze her empire to the ground.