[PAST]
The drums echo through the palace courtyard, slow and heavy, like a heartbeat that refuses to die. Rue Yim walks at the head of the procession, her black ritual robes dragging behind her. The moon sits directly above the stone platform, pale and watchful, as if already mourning what is about to unfold.
She feels sick.
Not because of the ritual—she has performed harder rites before—but because of the girl behind her.
The veiled princess walks with small, compliant steps. Her hands are folded, her chin lowered. She does not tremble. She does not resist. She does not even breathe deeply. She simply follows, the way a shadow follows its object.
Something about that frightens Rue Yim.
Princess Niwa has always hated the idea of sacrifice. She cried when a bird fell from its nest. She argued against slaughtering livestock during a festival. She once begged Rue Yim to cure a dying cat rather than "let nature be cruel."
