Evelyn disheveled figure sprawled across a futon is now dressed in the muted gray-blue of a palace servant. Simple cotton layers lay neatly against her frame, the fabric plain and unadorned, sleeves bound back to keep the hands free.

Her hair was pulled into a low, modest knot, secured with a wooden pin. No jewels, no ribbons, no hint of individuality.

Expression calm, but beneath the calm surface, her thoughts churned restlessly.

She had eaten in silence, mindful of posture, chewing slowly, eyes lowered. Bathed in silence. Changed in silence, folding her discarded clothes carefully.

And now, she walked in silence.

The corridor stretched ahead, long and imposing. Vermilion pillars rose toward carved beams high above, their surfaces worn smooth by generations of hands and time.

Golden motifs glinted faintly in the filtered light, dragons coiled in relief, clouds frozen mid-surge. The air smelled of incense and old wood, heavy with the quiet authority of a dynasty that had endured for centuries.

Each step echoed softly against polished stone.

Ahead of them, Kayla walked with measured grace, her spine straight, chin lifted just enough, neither arrogant nor meek. She wore her rank like a second skin, every movement precise, and every pause deliberate. This was not the girl who argued over breakfast or scolded her for snoring. This was the only princess of the realm.

Several palace servants followed at a respectful distance, their steps carefully synchronized. To Kayla’s right walked Yen Momo, ever attentive, eyes sharp, posture relaxed but ready, someone who missed nothing and forgot even less.

Evelyn kept to Kayla’s left. Her head was slightly lowered, gaze unfocused yet alert, fixed on the line of stone just ahead of her feet. Her steps were light, neither dragging nor hurried, paced carefully to match the princess without drawing attention.

Every movement followed what she had been taught, by Kayla. Hands folded, shoulders relaxed, breathing steady. She looked no different from any other palace maid.

And yet, her presence felt heavier. Perhaps it was the way her awareness never softened, how her attention marked every reflection in the lacquered pillars, every whisper of silk behind her. Or perhaps it was the weight of what lay ahead, the scrutiny, the questions, and the gaze of those who decided fates with a single nod.

Evelyn kept walking, silent, obedient and ready.

They were now headed toward the Outer Court Inspection Hall. The place where palace personnel, attendants, and newly appointed servants were formally reviewed, questioned, and recorded by the palace officials and senior court members. It was a routine inspection in name, but in reality, it was a place where destinies could change quietly and irrevocably. A place where one careless glance, one misplaced word, could cost a life.

The procession moved smoothly, until Kayla suddenly halted.

The servants behind her stopped at once, forming an orderly line. Yen Momo turned, surprised.

“What is it, Your Highness? Why have you stopped?”

Kayla did not answer immediately.

Ahead of them, walking calmly toward their group, was an elder wandering abbot, his gray robes worn but immaculate, and his wooden prayer beads gliding softly through his fingers. Behind him followed several young monks, heads bowed, eyes lowered.

But the abbot’s gaze was not on the path. It was fixed on Kayla… and Evelyn.

Before Yen Momo could announce their presence, the abbot had already arrived before them.

“Greetings to Her Highness,” the elder said gently, bowing.

Yen Momo stiffened.

Yen Momo stiffened.

Just moments ago, she was certain he had been far down the corridor. How had he arrived so quickly, without sound?

Kayla recovered swiftly, performing the formal court etiquette with precision.

“This humble one greets the venerable master.”

Evelyn mirrored Kayla’s movement perfectly, lowering her head, hands folded.

The abbot’s gaze, shifted to Evelyn, and without warning, he reached out. His fingers closed around Evelyn’s wrist.

Evelyn head lifted instinctively, eyes meeting his. She froze, not from fear, but from the sudden, overwhelming sensation of being seen.

She forced a small, polite smile.

“Your Highness,” the abbot said calmly,

“I wish to speak with your servant. Alone.”

Evelyn’s breath hitched.

Kayla’s eyes widened slightly before she masked her reaction. She glanced at Evelyn, concern flickering beneath her composed exterior, but still she replied.

“Of course,” before carefully added;

“But there is one matter. This servant of mine cannot speak. Does the venerable master understand sign language?”

The abbot attention went back at her. He studied Kayla in silence for a long moment, as though searching for something beyond her expression. Then he smiled, faintly.

“This servant has endured much,” he said gently.

“Such thing has long been practiced. Do not worry, Your Highness. She is in good hands. It will only take a moment.”

Kayla’s unease deepened, something in his tone, in his eyes, felt… off.

Still, she nodded.

As they stepped aside to give space, Evelyn turned back toward Kayla and signed quickly,

“I am scared.”

Kayla immediately replied in sign,

“Relax. I am here. I will wait for you.”

Yen Momo, watching the exchange, could only wonder what passed between them.

Evelyn nodded once, then followed the abbot. They walked in silence, moving away from the main corridor, past side halls, beyond carved doors and quiet courtyards, until the voices of the palace faded into nothing but wind and the distant toll of temple bells.

At last, the abbot stopped beneath a tall ginkgo tree, golden leaves scattered across the stone path like fallen sunlight.

“You do not need to fret, young one,” the abbot said softly.

“I am not here to add to your burden, only to lessen it.”

Evelyn stared at him, confused.

Evelyn stared at him, confusion flickering across her face. She lifted her hands instinctively, fingers forming the start of a sign, but the elder raised a hand gently.

“There is no need, just listen.”

Her hands froze midair. Slowly, she lowered them. There was something about the abbot’s presence, calm, immovable, that made resistance feel not impossible, but unnecessary.

“You are not from this world,” the abbot said.

The words struck like thunder. Evelyn’s heart slammed violently against her ribs, but her face remained composed, unreadable.

“You are a soul that drifted beyond the Six Realms, wandering between samsara and void,” he continued.

“Yet fate or perhaps karma bound you here.”

He looked at her steadily.

“The soul that once belonged to this body had already departed before your arrival. His karmic thread was severed. He has passed on.”

Evelyn’s breath caught.

“But the soul now dwelling in the body of the princess,” he said, his voice lowering,

“is not the original one either.”

Her eyes widened despite herself.

“She is your younger sister.”

The shock rolled through Evelyn like ice flooding her veins. Her knees did not buckle. Her spine did not bend. She stood unmoving, jaw tight, expression carefully blank.

“You are calm,” the abbot observed.

“But your spirit trembles.”

She said nothing.

“I am not here to bring you fear,” he continued.

“Nor to burden you with truths beyond bearing. I am here because Heaven allowed it.”

He clasped his prayer beads and murmured softly,

“Form is emptiness. Emptiness is form. Neither form nor emptiness is separate from the heart.”

“Your arrival was not coincidence,” he said.

“Nor was hers. There is a reason your souls were drawn here. Though I cannot yet discern it, I sense that your karmic roots were once tied to this world, long before this lifetime.”

A chill crept down Evelyn spine.

“In five days,” the abbot continued,

“you will face a crucial choice, one that will change both your fates. One path will preserve life. The other will invite death.”

Her vision blurred, and somehow tears gathered despite her will.

“If the decision is careless, it may place one of you in grave danger, perhaps even final death.”

Her chest tightened, her teeth clenched. She didn’t know if what the abbot said was true, but one thing was certain: she would not let either herself or her sister die. She would not allow such a fate to claim them.

“But hear this,” he said gently.

“Today, you will survive.”

She looked up sharply. Tears of restrained emotion slid down her cheeks, silent, and unblinking.

The abbot reached into his sleeve and withdrew two bracelets, carved from pale jade, etched with faint golden sutra script that shimmered subtly in the light.

“These are protection talismans,” he said.

“Formed through prayer and karmic binding. Give one to your sister. They will guard you both until the day you encounter the one born under dragon’s fate.”

Evelyn stiffened.

“That one devours fate, consumes destiny, and spares none who meet its gaze unprepared,” the abbot said gravely.
“That person is bound to you. Salvation, destruction, or rebirth. Each may pass through your hands, depending on the choices you make.”

Her breathing turned shallow.

“If danger arises,” he continued,

“Seek refuge in this temple. The Dharma Hall shall shelter you and your sister.”

He bowed his head slightly.

“Do not be scared, little one,” he said softly.

“The heavens are not asleep, nor are they silent. They are watching. Stand firm. Do not let the winds shake your roots,” he added gently.

“Your younger sister needs your branches to fly safely.”

Then, in a low voice, he recited,

“Those who awaken through suffering, carry the seeds of liberation. Those who walk through darkness
may yet guide others into the light.”

He smiled, stepped closer, and rested a gentle hand on Evelyn’s shoulder.

“Dry your tears,” he said kindly.

“Let us return."

Evelyn who had not yet recovered from what she had heard, abruptly grabbed his wrist without warning.

“Wait,” she said urgently. 

“Can my sister and I hide here, now? Tonight I can tell her we escaped the palace, that we took refuge in the temple—”

“Little one,” the abbot interrupted gently. He smiled, his free hand closing calmly over hers, easing her grip without force.

“Shelter and solution are not the same,” he said.

“I am merely a messenger, not the answer.”

“Our paths may cross again,” he continued softly,

“but I am not the one who can change your fate. I am only a passerby, one who lends a capable hand when Heaven permits.”

“But you—” Evelyn began, but was cut off again as the abbot lifted a finger, signaling her to stop.

“Let us return,” he said.

Evelyn studied him for a long moment, then nodded. She loosened her grip and stepped back, letting him go.

When they returned, the abbot stopped before Kayla and bowed once more, his movements precise and restrained.

“Thank you for your patience, Your Highness.”

He offered no further explanation. Without lingering or seeking attention, he turned and walked away, his gray robes soon blending into the rhythm of the palace corridors, another quiet figure among many, easily overlooked once gone.

Evelyn halted beside Kayla. Her gaze drifted past the carved pillars and tiled floor, unfocused. The world felt distant, muffled, as though she were still half caught in a dream she hadn’t yet shaken off.

Kayla noticed immediately. She reached out and rested a hand on her shoulder.

Evelyn was startled at the contact.

“…I—”                                 

The sound slipped out before she realized it. Her entire body went still. A heartbeat passed before she finally recover. She lifted her hands quickly, fingers moving in practiced motions.

“Let’s talk later.”

Kayla watched her hands, then looked up at her face. She nodded once, the crease between her brows deepening with concern, but she asked nothing.

They resumed walking.