But the true reason sat in a locked chest beneath her new cot: a fragment of fresco she had rescued from a condemned temple in the Outer District. The image showed a woman whose robes shifted between all colors at once鈥攁 technique lost for centuries, called weeping pigment . Lin Wei had nearly recreated it. She had mixed a test batch and painted a single poppy on a shard of roof tile. The flower had seemed to breathe.
Lin Wei looked down at the garment she had worn for thirty years. It was not merely red. It was Scarlet 鈥攖he specific, sacred hue granted only to the empire鈥檚 most accomplished ritualists. The dye had been mixed from the first light of dawn striking a phoenix鈥檚 crest, fixed with the blood of a willing martyr. Wearing it meant she could command the city鈥檚 protective wards, speak the prayers that kept the harvest rains on time, and stand in the Empress鈥檚 presence without kneeling. scarlet revoked
鈥淵ou鈥檙e still alive,鈥� she whispered. But the true reason sat in a locked
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