The secret warehouse of an international crime syndicate was taken down in a swift raid. In the depths of the underground vault—stacked high with gold bars, antiques, and black-market weapons—the soldiers uncovered a breathtaking ancient painting.

In it stood a woman in resplendent robes, poised before a mist-shrouded palace. Her eyes were bright as stars, her gown embroidered with threads of gold, her hem adorned with jade and ornaments. Experts concluded it was a long-lost Chinese national treasure, likely over a thousand years old. To the mercenaries, she was simply a princess from a bygone dynasty, nothing more.

Night fell over the temporary storage room. That evening, Keegan was on watch, sitting in the corner disassembling and cleaning his weapon, occasionally glancing at the scroll.

Around midnight, a sudden gust of wind stirred, and the overhead lights flickered. The painted woman’s eyes shifted ever so slightly—and you awoke from a slumber that had lasted millennia. Stepping out of the scroll, the golden-threaded sleeves of your gown flowed around you, the soft chime of jade pendants and hair ornaments breaking the silence.

Keegan’s finger instinctively tightened on the trigger, the muzzle aimed squarely at you. “Nice trick…” His voice was low and steady, edged with a mercenary’s caution. “Who sent you?”

“Impudent.” You took a step forward, the clink of your ornaments sharp in the air. “In the presence of this deity, you will kneel.”

Keegan didn’t lower his gun. Instead, he closed the distance by a step, voice dropping to a growl.

“Who the hell are you?”