The morning the Duke returned from the capital, the phoenix banners no longer flew above the House of Aster.
They had been lowered before dawn.
Not by servants.
Not by the wind.
By soldiers.
Leora stood beneath the eastern pavilion, a wicker basket hanging from one arm, watching the scarlet banners disappear into the gray morning mist. The embroidered phoenixes, symbols of her family's honor for generations, vanished one by one as though they had never existed.
Her fingers tightened around the basket.
"They've finally come," whispered an elderly maid beside her.
No one answered.
The estate, once alive with laughter, horses, and music, had fallen unnaturally silent.
Even the birds had stopped singing.
Leora looked toward the mountain beyond the estate walls. Every morning, white cranes gathered there before flying across the valley. Today they circled without landing, their cries carrying across the cool air like a warning.
Her grandmother used to say heaven always spoke before tragedy.
Most people simply failed to listen.
"Miss."
The voice broke her thoughts.
Old Nanny Wen hurried toward her, breathing hard.
"You shouldn't remain outside."
Leora smiled gently.
"If I hide indoors, will it change anything?"
The old woman looked as though she wanted to cry.
"No."
"Then let me breathe the morning while I still can."
Nanny Wen lowered her eyes.
She had cared for Leora since infancy.
She knew that gentle smile.
Whenever Leora smiled like that, it meant she was frightened but refused to burden anyone else.
"You've always been too kind."
Leora laughed softly.
"You always say that as though it's a flaw."
"It is."
The old woman took the basket from her.
"The world rewards wolves."
Leora reached for a blossom growing beside the stone path.
"But flowers continue blooming."
"They're also the first to be plucked."
Leora looked at the white blossom in her hand.
"Perhaps."
Then she tucked it into Nanny Wen's sleeve.
"But for a little while, they make the world beautiful."
The old woman swallowed hard.
"You sound exactly like your mother."
At those words, silence settled between them.
Lady Aster had been dead for seven years.
Yet every servant still spoke of her with quiet reverence.
She had been gentle.
Too gentle.
Leora remembered very little of her mother's face.
Only warm hands.
A lullaby.
And the scent of plum blossoms.
"Miss!"
A young servant came running through the courtyard.
"They're here!"
The words spread through the estate faster than fire.
Servants stopped working.
Stable boys abandoned the horses.
Kitchen maids rushed outside.
Leora turned toward the front gate.
Imperial soldiers marched through the entrance.
Their armor gleamed like polished obsidian beneath the pale sun.
Behind them rode her father.
Duke Alaric Aster.
His robes were stained with dust.
His shoulders, once impossibly straight, now sagged beneath an invisible weight.
Leora's heart lurched.
Her father never bowed his head.
Never.
Today, he never once lifted his eyes.
She hurried forward.
"Father."
He stopped his horse.
For several long moments he simply looked at her.
His eyes were bloodshot.
His face had aged years since he left for the capital only two weeks earlier.
"My little sparrow."
His voice cracked.
Leora's smile faltered.
He had not called her that since she was twelve.
She stepped closer.
"What happened?"
Instead of answering, he climbed down from the horse and embraced her.
Tightly.
Almost desperately.
She froze.
Her father had never embraced her in public.
Not because he lacked affection.
But because nobles rarely displayed such emotion.
Today, he held her as though she might disappear.
"I'm sorry."
The words were barely audible.
Leora frowned.
"For what?"
His lips trembled.
"I could not protect this family."
Behind them, the captain of the Imperial Guard unfolded a golden scroll.
His voice echoed across the courtyard.
"By decree of His Imperial Majesty..."
Every servant immediately fell to their knees.
Leora followed.
"...Duke Alaric Aster is hereby stripped of all titles, lands, and privileges for the crime of treason against the Empire."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Leora blinked.
Treason?
No.
There had to be a mistake.
Her father had devoted his entire life to the Empire.
He had fought wars.
Protected borders.
Saved thousands.
The captain continued reading.
"The House of Aster shall surrender all property before sunset."
"The Duke shall remain under Imperial investigation."
"No member of the household may leave the province without permission."
"Failure to comply shall be punishable by death."
Silence.
Absolute silence.
Even the wind seemed to disappear.
Leora slowly looked toward her father.
He remained kneeling.
Head bowed.
He did not deny the accusations.
He did not defend himself.
For the first time in her life, he looked defeated.
The captain rolled the decree closed.
"Your Grace."
He hesitated.
"I am sorry."
The words were genuine.
Leora noticed.
So did her father.
Duke Aster gave a weary nod.
"You are only carrying out your duty."
The captain looked away.
The soldiers dispersed throughout the estate.
Within moments, doors were forced open.
Records seized.
Weapons confiscated.
Treasures catalogued.
The House of Aster was being dismantled piece by piece before their eyes.
Leora stood motionless.
Everything felt unreal.
Only yesterday she had worried about whether the peach blossoms would bloom before the Spring Festival.
Now her family's name had become a crime.
A sudden shout rang out.
"They're taking the ancestral tablets!"
Leora's head snapped toward the ancestral hall.
Several soldiers carried the carved wooden tablets that honored generations of the Aster family.
"No!"
She ran before anyone could stop her.
She threw herself between the soldiers and the temple steps.
"You cannot take them."
One soldier hesitated.
"We have orders."
"Those are my ancestors."
"They are now Imperial property."
"They are not property!"
Her voice echoed through the courtyard.
"They are family."
For a heartbeat, no one moved.
The captain stepped forward.
His expression softened.
"Lady Leora."
She looked at him, tears burning her eyes.
"Please."
He closed his eyes briefly.
"I truly am sorry."
Then he gestured for the soldiers to continue.
Leora remained standing.
She could not move.
She could only watch as centuries of family history disappeared through the estate gates.
Behind her, her father quietly wept.
Not for his title.
Not for his lands.
But because he had failed to protect the legacy entrusted to him.
And above them all, unseen by every soul in the courtyard, a lone white feather drifted from the cloudless sky, landing silently upon the abandoned stone steps of the ancestral hall.
No bird flew overhead.
No wind stirred.
Yet the feather remained, impossibly pure against the cold gray stone.
Far away, beyond the mountains, an old woman who lived alone in a forgotten temple opened her eyes.
"The child has been chosen," she whispered.
And for the first time in decades, the temple bell rang by itself.