The Palace of Earthly Tranquility was no longer tranquil. It had become a symphony of panic, a cacophony of shrill cries, clattering porcelain, and the frantic, whispered commands of eunuchs who had never seen their master in such a state. The Second Prince, Li Jian, the gilded serpent of the imperial court, was a broken thing. He lay curled on the cold floor of the main hall, his fine silk robes now stained with spilled wine and his own terror-sweat. His eyes, wide and bloodshot, were fixed on some unseen horror in the darkened corridor from which he had fled.
"The grave…" he whimpered, a thin, reedy sound utterly unlike his usual boisterous tone. "It smells… the smell is in my mouth… her eyes…"
