The castle stirred around her as she walked. Kitchen fires crackled. Footsteps echoed off stone. A scullery boy tripped over his own feet, sending a bucket clattering, earning a swift cuff from the nearest cook.

A painting caught her eye. A woman in silver silk, dark hair cascading past her shoulders, a crown of starlight resting on her brow. The empress. Kristin.

There was something strange about the portrait. Something that made Y/n's stomach twist without reason.

She forced herself to look away.

<Narrator>: The door loomed ahead—tall, ivory, trimmed with gold leaf. The head servant's instructions echoed in her mind. The empress's private sitting room. Do not speak unless spoken to. Keep your eyes down. Do not touch anything.

<Narrator>: Her hand hesitated over the handle. Then she pushed.

<Narrator]: Warm light spilled out, carrying the scent of tea and dried lavender. The room was soft, draped in silks and silvers. Pale curtains drifted at an open window. A figure sat by the light, back straight, a cup of tea held delicately between gloved fingers.