High Archon Tian Gang froze. His hands gripped the golden stone railing so tightly that his knuckles turned the color of chalk.
“A... A broken clock?” Tian Gang repeated, his voice wavering between high-born outrage and cold, creeping terror. “The sky calendar is the heartbeat of the cosmos! It was set in motion by the Primordial Ancestors before the first mortal drew breath! How dare a worm with dirt beneath his fingernails speak of heaven’s time!”
On the third throne, Archon Bai Ze, the Scroll-keeper, leaned forward, wildly shuffling through a stack of ancient, yellowed jade scrolls piled upon his knees.
His trembling fingers traced the faded cuneiform carvings engraved into the borders of the jade tablets. “The Great Epoch of Ten Thousand Cycles... The sacred text speaks of the Renewal of the Mandate! But the ritual was lost during the War of the Severed Heavens! Our ancestors taught us that the mandate was unending, sustained by the eternal virtue of the royal throne!”
Bai Ze’s breath came in ragged, wheezing gasps as the thinning air starved his aging lungs. His glasses slipped down his sweaty nose, clattering against his lap, but he didn’t pick them up. His eyes remained glued to the cuneiform script, his pupils dilating with the sudden, horrific realization that the foundational myth of his entire lineage was crumbling before his eyes.
