The merchant Bao asked Leena and her maid Maya for a small favor. He needed a specific, colorful flower from the bamboo forest—one he could dry and grind into a vibrant powder for his paintings. Seeing it as a simple errand, Leena agreed.
The bamboo forest whispered around Leena. Tall green stalks swayed and clicked together in the breeze. It was a living, breathing entity. And its rustling felt like a constant, eerie warning.
Turn back.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and rotting leaves. Each step sank her simple sandals into the soft, wet soil. She followed a narrow, animal-trodden path toward the distant gurgle of a stream.
She pulled her light shawl tighter. A sudden chill skittered down her spine.
"Maya, stay close," she murmured, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes darted between the sunlit gaps in the canopy, searching. "We'll find Bao's flowers by the river, and then we can—"
CRASH.
Maya screamed.
The sound was a violent tear in the forest's peace. Leena spun around, her heart leaping into her throat.
Her maid stood frozen, one hand clamped over her mouth. The other pointed a trembling finger into a shadowy thicket.
There, half-hidden among the bamboo, a man lay sprawled.
His fine, pale silk robes were torn and drenched in blood. A shocking, vibrant crimson stain against the green and brown forest floor. A dark pool had gathered beneath him, seeping into the earth.
Leena's breath hitched. Every instinct screamed at her to run. To flee from this obvious danger.
But the sight of the life bleeding out onto the ground pinned her feet in place.
The healer in her overrode the fear.
She dropped to her knees beside him, dampness immediately soaking through her thin skirts. Ignoring the coppery tang of blood, she pressed trembling fingers to the side of his grimy neck.
…There.
A pulse. Thready and weak. Fading.
Her eyes traveled up to his face. He was young. Handsome, even covered in grime and blood. Tall and broad-shouldered, with a powerful frame now brought low. His sharp features were knotted in pain. His hair, black as midnight, was matted with sweat and blood.
"Who are you…?" she whispered.
Action replaced wonder. She looked up at Maya, her voice shifting to a sharp command.
"Maya! Run—back to the estate! Bring the handcart! Now!"
As her maid fled, Leena snapped open her worn medicine box. Her hands, now smeared with his blood, moved with practiced efficiency. She cleansed the worst of his wounds with a stinging liquid.
The man groaned. A deep, guttural sound of agony. His fingers twitched in the dirt.
"Shh…" Leena leaned close, her veil brushing his cheek. Her voice was a soft, fierce promise. "I know it burns. I have to. I won't let you die here. Do you hear me? Stay with me."
She crushed herbs into a thick, pungent paste. The medicinal scent mixed with the metallic blood—a strange perfume of life and death.
As she applied the poultice, his eyes fluttered open.
Dark. Unfocused. Clouded with pain.
For a single, fragile heartbeat, his gaze found hers. A flicker of awareness shone through.
"…An… angel…?" he rasped, the words broken and breathy.
Leena froze. Her heart stuttered at the intensity in his dazed look.
But the moment vanished. His eyes lost focus, rolled back, and he went utterly limp.
It felt like an eternity before Maya returned, panting and dragging the small wooden handcart. Together, they struggled to heave his dead weight onto the planks.
As they shifted him, something solid slipped from his bloodied robes.
Clink.
It hit a flat stone with a sharp, metallic sound.
Leena bent and picked it up. She wiped the mud and blood from its surface.
It was a golden seal. Heavy and cold in her palm. She turned it over.
A powerful dragon, coiled in intricate flames, glinted in a stray beam of sunlight. It was a thing of immense value. She didn't recognize its meaning…
But anyone from the Tang court would have immediately dropped to their knees.
It was the Imperial Seal.
SNAP.
The sound was unmistakable. A dry branch breaking underfoot. Somewhere in the shadows just beyond the thicket.
Leena's blood ran cold, freezing her in place.
Her head snapped up, eyes desperately scanning the dense, whispering bamboo.
We're not alone.