The woman's eyes fluttered open as distant voices filtered through the rotting walls of her prison.
"—The Emperor himself is coming—"
"—that cursed woman—"
"—spiritual plague, nobody should get close—"
Her luminous gaze fixed on the cracked ceiling above, confusion stirring in the depths of her fading consciousness.
In all the years she'd been trapped in this dying shell, relegated to this forgotten hovel like diseased livestock, no one had ever come.
The villagers left scraps of food outside her door like offerings to ward off evil, but they never approached, never acknowledged her existence beyond whispered prayers for protection.
Why now?
Why would an emperor—any emperor—come to this wretched place?
Her mind, still sharp despite her body's decay, began to work through the possibilities.
The name that echoed in the guards' hushed tones carried weight, authority that made even hardened cultivators step carefully.
