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Mister Mu didn’t know how long had passed when he awoke to the faint sound of dripping, water echoing in the dark.
His entire body ached as though it had been taken apart and reassembled, and worse still was the bone-deep hopelessness that clung to his heart.
He opened his eyes.
A damp, pitch-black cell.
They were deep in the mountains, where the air was cold and the walls were always wet. Condensation dripped from the stone ceiling, making the place feel clammy and miserable.
FWISH! Suddenly, a bright flash lit the room.
A fire flared up in a brazier in the corner. The dry pop of charcoal followed as the flames caught.
A man knelt by the fire, stoking it. Once it was burning steadily, he pulled up a wooden chair and placed it in front of the cell, then sat.
Mister Mu lifted his eyes and his pupils contracted.
“Lord Yu… The Primordial Emperor…”
His voice was bitter beyond words.
The man before him wore an elegant black robe embroidered with subtle silver thread. His hair was neatly combed, his presence noble yet ...
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