My grandmother was a harsh woman.
Strict, brusque, and unyielding, she was the kind of person who commanded fear with a single glance. Her presence was formidable, her power undeniable. She was one of the most influential women I had ever known, a force of nature wrapped in the guise of a stern matriarch.
She wielded the Flaming Dagger, a weapon as beautiful as it was deadly. Its blade glistened like liquid fire, adorned with water jewels that shimmered with an otherworldly light. In her hands, it was an instrument of destruction. They called her the Whispering Fox, a name that spoke of both her cunning and her lethality.
Grandmother hailed from the Mo clan, a lineage of assassins from the western forests who had served the emperor for generations. She never outright claimed to be one of them, but her skill with the dagger spoke volumes. She moved with the precision of a predator, her strikes swift and merciless.
Despite her no-nonsense demeanor, Grandmother was deeply superstitious. She filled our childhood with stories—tales of demons, spirits, and the unseen forces that governed the world.
"Demons," she would say, her voice low and grave, "are vile creatures that take human form to sow chaos and destruction. They have names, and if you can learn a demon's name, you can wield its power."
There was power in a name, she insisted. It was a lesson she repeated often, her eyes sharp and piercing as she imparted her wisdom.
Xue and I would sit at her feet, wide-eyed and captivated, as she spun her tales. We dreamed of our own adventures, of facing demons and uncovering ancient secrets. But Grandmother's stories were more than just entertainment—they were warnings.
I wish I had listened to them.
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The walls were bleeding.
Thick, crimson liquid oozed from the cracks, pooling on the floor in viscous puddles. I tried to move, but I was trapped, pinned beneath a mountain of corpses. Their lifeless eyes stared at me, their cold, decaying flesh pressing down on my chest.
The stench of blood and rot filled the air, making me gag. I struggled to free myself, but the bodies wouldn't budge. They were too heavy, too numerous. I was suffocating, drowning in the weight of their silence.
I woke with a start, tumbling out of bed and onto the cold, hard floor. My chest heaved as I gasped for air, my heart pounding like a war drum. The room was dark, the thick curtains blocking out any hint of light. They swayed slightly, their deep red fabric resembling the blood-soaked walls of my nightmare.
The air in the Lin estate was stifling, a far cry from the open, breezy halls of my family home. I missed the scent of fresh water and blooming flowers, the way the wind carried the salty tang of the river. Here, it felt like I was trapped in a dungeon, the walls closing in around me.
No wonder I was having nightmares.
But my restless nights were wearing on Madam Sue's patience. She had resurrected me with grand expectations, and I was failing to meet them. What had she expected? A true demon, perhaps—cunning, ruthless, and evil.
If such a demon existed within me, it was that dark, ugly thing that lurked in the corners of my mind. It wasn't rage,I knew rage, its searing heat and vicious claws. It wasn't sorrow, either,I was intimately familiar with the crushing weight of grief.
No, this was something else. Something foreign and malevolent.
It whispered to me sometimes, its voice a sly, insidious murmur.
Why not just sever their heads?
How about we burn her?
The thoughts terrified me. They felt like pure evil, the kind of darkness Grandmother had warned me about. Was this the demon that had possessed me? The one that had slaughtered so many?
Or was it something more familiar, something I couldn't bear to name?
I pushed the thought away, burying it deep. Some truths were too dangerous to confront.
I was to accompany Master Wuying to the palace for a conference.
These gatherings were a staple of imperial life, a chance for the empire's most powerful clans and foreign dignitaries to discuss matters of state. I had never paid much attention to them before. Xue and I weren't heirs; we had no reason to concern ourselves with politics.
But everything had changed.
Madam Su had it all planned out. I was to be introduced to society as Lin Xinyi, the newly adopted daughter of the illustrious Lin family. It was a role I had to play perfectly, from the way I carried myself to the way I spoke.
My appearance helped. The white hair, the golden eyes—they made me an oddity, a curiosity. Some found it alluring, Madam Su said.
I found it unsettling
The more I stared at my reflection, the less I recognized myself. The attendants had transformed me into a doll, my face painted pale and smooth, my hair pinned into intricate swirls and loops. The crimson and black robes they dressed me in were exquisite, the silver embroidery catching the light with every movement.
But I felt like a stranger in my own skin.
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts. It was Madam Su, her expression sharp and expectant.
"It's time," she said.
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The palace was just as extravagant as I remembered.
The grand entrance loomed ahead, its gates adorned with intricate carvings of dragons and phoenixes. Towering stone qilin stood sentinel, their eyes gleaming with an almost lifelike intensity.
Being back here made my skin crawl. My hands trembled, my palms slick with sweat. Memories threatened to overwhelm me, but I clung to the fleeting moments of joy—running through the gardens with Xue, swimming in the lake, laughing under the summer sun.
But those memories were a double-edged sword. They brought comfort, but they also brought pain.
The palace grounds were a marvel, a testament to the empire's wealth and power. Lotus ponds shimmered in the sunlight, their surfaces dotted with delicate pink blooms. Willow trees swayed gently in the breeze, their branches whispering secrets only they could understand.
At the heart of it all stood the main hall, its vaulted ceiling painted with celestial scenes. The jade and gold throne sat beneath a canopy of flowing silk, a symbol of the emperor's authority.
We arrived with a delegation of twenty, a show of the Lin family's influence. The line moved slowly, each group stepping forward to greet the emperor.
Xue.
He looked tired, his once-glossy hair dull and tied into a simple topknot. A crown rested on his head, its jewels catching the light. His skin, usually smooth and radiant, was pale and drawn.
My heart ached at the sight of him. Once, he had been my best friend. Now, he was a stranger.
I forced myself to look away, my chest tight with emotion.
"Master Wuying," Xue said, his voice calm and measured. "I don't believe I recognize this individual."
"Ah, yes," Master Wuying replied smoothly. "This is my adopted daughter, Lin Xinyi."
I bowed low, my eyes fixed on the ground. "Greetings, Your Majesty."
"You have such interesting features, Lin XIngyi," Xue said, his tone polite but distant.
I dared to glance up, meeting his eyes for the briefest of moments. The ache in my chest deepened.
"Thank you, Your Majesty," I murmured, my voice barely above a whisper.
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The banquet hall was a spectacle of opulence.
Crimson banners hung from the walls, their gold embroidery glinting in the candlelight. Long tables were laden with delicacies, their aromas mingling with the scent of incense.
I stood at the edge of the room, my heart pounding. The last time I had been here, I had destroyed an empire.
Now, I was back, and the weight of my past pressed down on me like a stone.
But I had a role to play. A mission to complete.
For my family. For my revenge.
I took a deep breath and stepped into the hall.