Rain had fallen the night before, soft and endless, soaking the tiled roofs of the palace and the winding paths between the courtyards. By morning, the skies were clear, and sunlight filtered through the thin clouds like silken veils. Birds chirped from the cypress trees that bordered the northern garden. The air smelled of damp earth, old stone, and blooming chrysanthemums.
Lu stood alone in the Mirror Hall, where silver-framed mirrors lined the walls. It was a place where noble women came to fix their appearance before going to court, but today it was empty. The smooth floor reflected her figure like still water, and the mirrors echoed her face from every angle. She studied her reflection not the flawless hair, not the fine silk robe of golden plum blossoms but the faint, curved mark on her left cheek. She had kept it hidden under powder for years, ever since Master Wang warned her it might bring danger.
But yesterday, after she tripped in the corridor and her veil slipped, Shu Yan had seen it. Her eyes had widened, lips curling with something close to delight and disgust. That moment still haunted Lu like a cold hand pressed to her back.
Shu Yan had not said anything—yet. But the look in her eyes said everything. That mark, to the people of the southern provinces, was a cursed sign—left by demons, or perhaps ghosts. It was said that those who carried it were born in darkness, or had been touched by death in their mother's womb.
Lu sighed softly. The palace had many mirrors, but none showed what lay inside a person. Not even her. She could not see all the shadows hidden within herself. Not her quiet rage, nor her growing hunger for revenge.
Behind her, the doors creaked open.
"Still hiding in here?" Shu Yan's voice floated in, smooth as oil. "The Mirror Hall does not change what we are inside."
Lu turned slowly. "It only shows what we refuse to face."
Shu Yan smiled thinly. She wore a lavender robe with phoenix embroidery, her hair pinned high with silver swan clips. Behind her, two handmaidens waited like shadows. "The Emperor visits the Plum Garden today. I thought you might like to join the walk," she said. "Or perhaps, with that little blemish on your face, you prefer shadows to sunlight."
Lu's fingers curled slightly at her side. "Thank you for the invitation. But I do not follow the Emperor like a stray bird waiting for crumbs."
Shu Yan's eyes glittered. "Careful, sister. Pride burns faster than silk."
She turned and left, the hem of her robe brushing against the floor like a wave swallowing stone.
That afternoon, Lu visited the old herbal house behind the east walls, where retired physician servants lived. Master Zhao, a wrinkled old man who had once served the Empress Dowager's mother, still brewed medicines for anyone who asked. He liked Lu for her quiet manners and always let her sit and watch while he sorted dried herbs.
"You're not well," he said without looking at her. His hands moved slowly over roots of ginseng and dried jujube berries.
"I'm tired. But it will pass," Lu answered.
"No." He picked up a long, thin bone needle and placed it on the table between them. "You dream of blood. You walk like your feet remember running from something. That is not tiredness."
Lu froze. "Have you spoken to Sister Li?"
"I don't need to. Your soul is too loud. And there is something else."
Master Zhao reached under the table and pulled out an old scroll. It was wrapped in black silk and tied with red string. When he untied it, the parchment opened with a crackling sound. Strange characters were written in deep brown ink faded, but still legible.
"I once read about blood marks," he said. "A child born under a cursed sky. The mark on the cheek is not always a curse. It is a sign. A blood echo. It means someone long before you, in your family, used forbidden power. It skips generations and reappears only when fate needs to be corrected."
Lu's heart beat faster. "Are you saying someone in my family…?"
"Used dark arts. Most likely during the era of the clan wars. When the Black Crane tried to control the astrologers of the Southern Gate."
Lu felt the air around her grow heavy. The Black Crane again. She had read about them—how they used cursed ink, how they whispered names into candles and called back the dead.
"I thought they were wiped out," she whispered.
"Wiped out does not mean gone. Evil always finds a way to crawl back under a different name." Master Zhao looked at her closely. "Do you know how they cursed people?"
Lu shook her head.
"They used mirrors. Mirrors made from black jade and blessed with bat's blood. The reflection in those mirrors was not yours—it was your soul's twin. The part you hide, even from yourself. They would trap that image, then shatter the mirror. And your life would begin to break."
Lu's mouth was dry. She glanced at the mirrors in the hall where she had stood that morning. How many of them were true? How many of them were traps?
"There is one in the palace," Master Zhao added. "A cursed mirror. It was brought here over fifty years ago as a gift from a northern lord. I believe it still rests behind the curtain in the Moon-Calling Room."
"Why are you telling me this?" Lu asked, her voice almost a whisper.
"Because I think someone has already used it. And I fear you are the next target."
That night, a maid named Meilan was found dead in the South Garden, her body twisted like a broken doll. Her lips were black, and her eyes wide open. The palace said she fell from the roof, but everyone whispered about poison. Lu had spoken with Meilan just days before. She had been quiet, loyal, and sweet.
Some said she had served tea to Shu Yan the night before. Others said she had gone into the Moon-Calling Room to fetch a hairpin.
Rumors moved fast in the palace, carried by fans and teacups, by maids and eunuchs. By morning, many began to whisper that the girl's death was punishment from the gods—that someone had broken a sacred rule.
And someone had seen Lu leaving the corridor near the Moon-Calling Room after dusk.
The Empress summoned her.
The throne hall was silent and cold. Carved dragons curled around the high pillars, their golden eyes catching the light.
Empress Yuan sat on the red lacquered seat, her gaze calm but unreadable. Her robes were white with silver-thread lotuses. She looked like snow, beautiful and dangerous.
"You were near the Moon-Calling Room last night," she said without preamble.
"Yes, Your Majesty," Lu said, bowing low. "I was taking a walk. I did not go inside."
"You know what that room is."
"Yes."
"You know it is forbidden."
"I did not cross the curtain."
The Empress studied her, then slowly stood and walked forward, her long sleeves brushing the floor. She stopped just in front of Lu.
"I have ruled this palace for many years. I have seen many women rise and fall. Some fall because of beauty. Others because of ambition. But the most dangerous fall because they carry secrets."
Lu met her gaze. "I have no secrets that would harm Your Majesty."
"That mark on your face," the Empress said softly. "I saw it once before. On a girl who burned to death in the southern palace. She smiled just before the fire took her."
Lu's stomach turned.
"She was said to be a child of the Black Crane. Born under a bleeding moon."
"I am not her," Lu said, quietly.
The Empress touched Lu's cheek with one finger, just below the mark. It felt cold, like the edge of a blade.
"Perhaps not. But you carry something. I smell it around you."
Lu did not move. Her breath was steady, but inside her, the world tilted.
"Go," the Empress said. "But be careful. The palace is not a place for ghosts."
Later that evening, the Emperor came to the Orchid Pavilion. He arrived without guards, without fanfare. Lu was arranging flowers when she saw his shadow on the paper screen.
"You are pale," he said softly, stepping inside.
Lu bowed, then slowly rose. "There was an accident in the garden. It has made the court uneasy."
"I heard." He looked at her carefully. "They say the dead girl was cursed. They say the palace is haunted."
"Is it?"
"Perhaps." He stepped closer. "I have not dreamt peacefully in weeks."
Lu looked at him. The Emperor was young, but not innocent. His eyes held weight. He had killed with his signature, ruled with his silence.
He reached out and brushed a petal from her hair. "You remind me of someone I once knew. A girl who wanted to burn the sky, just to light her own candle."
Lu smiled faintly. "Did she succeed?"
"No. But she tried. That alone made her unforgettable."
He touched her chin and gently lifted her face. "I see a storm in you, Lu. It is both frightening and beautiful."
"And dangerous?" she asked.
"Yes." He leaned closer. "But I have never feared beauty."
Outside, the rain had started again, light and silent.
Inside, the air between them grew warmer.
Lu closed her eyes briefly.
Let the storm come, she thought and let them all burn.