"Han Ye, can you hear me? Please, look at me!" Mo Ran's voice was a thin thread in the screaming wind.
Han Ye looked at his hands. They were not hands anymore. They were shifting clouds of black ink. He felt the void pulling at his bones. The giant eye in the sky was staring directly into his soul. It was a cold, empty gaze that wanted to swallow the world.
"I am losing it, Mo Ran," Han Ye said. His voice sounded like rocks grinding together. "The Emperor is inside every cell. He is winning."
"No, he is not!" Mo Ran crawled toward him. Her jubah was torn. Blood was on her lips. She reached out and grabbed his face. Her hands were trembling. "Remember who you are. You are not his tool. You are not a monster."
"I am the one who brought him here," Han Ye whispered. A black tear rolled dow
