Night had fallen over the Celestial Lotus Palace with a deceptively calm mantle. The silence was so profound that even the brush of the breeze seemed to hold itself back out of respect for the sacred. Only the bronze bells, hidden in the high towers, released their soft, metallic echo, as if each vibration wove an invisible veil between the world of the living and that of the spirits.
In the outer gardens, the lotuses slept beneath the moon. Their silver petals reflected fragile gleams upon the pond, as if they were stars plucked from the sky. The water barely moved, but in that minimal movement, a premonition seemed to resonate.
The palace guards patrolled the corridors with firm steps, but there was a strange air, a murmur that none could identify. It was as if the palace itself breathed with tension. The torches, which normally burned brightly, seemed weaker, and the shadows on the walls stretched like watching figures.
