Autumn was in full swing, the night cloaked in a dance of shadows.
The ginkgo trees within the palace had long since shed their leaves.
The Empress Dowager, draped in a garment thin as mist, her skin a match for frost and snow as if made from congealed cream.
Those eyes, like a spring's waters, cast a faint ripple, seemingly with hooks that could ensnare the soul and reel it in.
The palace was a picture of serenity, the maids all expelled by her command, with only one girl in close attendance by her side.
Knelt before her, she asked in a hushed voice.
"Empress Dowager, will the Demon Lord truly come tonight? If he doesn't, wouldn't all our preparations be in vain?"
With a coquettish smile that could warm the chill of the night, the Empress Dowager reassured.
