The candlelight wavered, barely holding on, much like the woman who lay on the silk-draped bed. Her once-exquisite robes were soaked in crimson, the air thick with the scent of blood and fading peonies. She knew she wouldn't live to see the sun rise.
A bitter smile ghosted her lips. "I was a fool. Just like the ones before me."
Above her, golden dragons and phoenixes coiled in intricate carvings along the ceiling, a cruel mockery of a love that was never meant to last. They had all believed they could break the curse. That if they loved him enough, endured enough, he would finally see them. See them, and not just another name to be erased from history.
Her vision blurred. Somewhere in the distance, she heard the muffled weeping of palace servants. But they weren't crying for her. No one ever did. She was just another Empress. Another sacrifice.
"But I know now..." she whispered, her trembling fingers clutching at the embroidered sleeve of her ruined gown. "The curse... it was never about him. It was hers."
The truth clawed its way from her throat, tasting of blood.
"Yao Zhen."
A name shrouded in reverence, in sorrow. The Emperor's great love. The one he mourned. The one who had cursed him... and every woman who dared to love him after her.
A strangled laugh escaped her lips, though it hurt to breathe. She was never the victim.
We were.
The air shifted. Grew heavier. The shadows crept closer, pressing against her, suffocating her.
Yao Zhen did not want to be exposed.
Her body turned to ice, her heartbeat slowing. The darkness pulled her under, but before it swallowed her whole, she forced out one final whisper.
"Let the next one see the truth before it's too late."
And then, silence.
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