The Imperial City did not sleep.
Not truly.
Even when the lanterns burned low and the streets quieted beneath the illusion of rest, something deeper continued to stir beneath its surface. It was not noise, nor visible motion, nor even the subtle hum of ordinary life that persisted in any great capital. It was something far more elusive—something that could not be seen unless one knew exactly where to look.
Power moved.
It did not rush. It did not announce itself. It did not clash openly against opposing forces like warriors on a battlefield.
It waited.
It shifted.
It adapted.
And on this particular night, beneath the calm glow of golden lanterns and the gentle whisper of cool air threading through the stone-lined streets, that power began to change direction.
