The abandoned palace was still awash in a red glow, almost no different from the moment the Fire Lark’s true body had died. Faint starlight spilled through the broken windows. The emperor’s bedchamber was draped in tattered curtains, thick with cobwebs and dead insects.
On the carpet, which had been eaten to powder by moths, lay two skeletons locked in an embrace, a scene as desolate as it was horrifying.
No one would ever imagine that although the Fire Lark’s illusion looked so elegant and imposing, its real body was nothing more than a little bird shaped like an...
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