THE ASSASSINS EMPRESS

BLOODY PALACE FEAST

Her clothes were soaked in blood, a crimson stain that clung to her like a second skin.  Her sword, once gleaming silver, was now a dark, menacing blade, its surface slick with the lifeblood of her enemies.  Her hair, once a cascade of silken black, was now matted with blood, strands clinging to her face like gruesome tendrils.  Her eyes, once filled with a quiet intensity, now blazed with a terrifying, almost inhuman, hunger.

Her murderous aura, a palpable presence that hung heavy in the air, pulsed with a chilling intensity.  Her killing intent, a cold, calculating force, radiated from her like a beacon of death.  She stood amidst a sea of corpses, hundreds of assassins lying sprawled on the ground, their lives extinguished, their bodies a testament to her ruthlessness.

More assassins, their faces twisted with a mixture of fear and rage, surged towards her, their swords raised in a deadly dance.  She smirked, a cruel, chilling twist of her lips, her eyes gleaming with a dangerous delight.

"Come to me," she said, her voice a low growl, her words laced with a chilling indifference.  "I'm still enjoying fighting all of you."

She surveyed the scene, her gaze sweeping over the hundreds of assassins who surrounded her, their numbers seemingly endless.  She glanced back, her eyes catching the glint of steel, the flash of blades, the relentless tide of attackers closing in from behind.  She tightened her grip on her sword, its weight a reassuring presence in her hand.

"I must bathe after this," she said, her voice a calm, almost casual, statement, her words a chilling contrast to the carnage that surrounded her.

And then, she moved.  Her movements were a blur of speed and power, a deadly ballet of violence.  She danced through the throng of assassins, her sword a deadly extension of her body, her movements a symphony of death.  She disarmed them, she dismembered them, she sent them crashing to the ground, their screams a chorus of pain and terror.

She was a whirlwind of destruction, a force of nature unleashed, a living embodiment of death.  And as she fought, her murderous aura grew stronger, her killing intent more intense, her hunger for blood insatiable.  She was a monster, a creature of darkness, a being born of violence and fueled by rage.  And in her eyes, a chilling emptiness, a profound darkness, a glimpse of the abyss that had consumed her soul.

***
"Young Lady, wake up," her maid, Jingyi, whispered, her voice a gentle coaxing in the quiet room.  "Young Lady."

She opened her eyes, a sliver of consciousness piercing the darkness, but her gaze remained fixed on the ceiling, her mind still shrouded in the fog of sleep.

"What do you need?" she asked, her voice a low murmur, a hint of weariness in its tone.

"Your father came here a while ago," Jingyi said, her voice filled with a gentle enthusiasm, her eyes sparkling with a mixture of excitement and concern.  "He told me that there will be a palace feast tonight.  He asked me to bring this clothes to you."  She held up a white gown, its fabric shimmering with a delicate sheen.  "Young Lady, look here!  He said that this was your favorite color.  This clothes is expensive, even this silk."

She glanced at the gown, her eyes lingering on the intricate embroidery, the delicate flowers, the swirling patterns of snow.  But her gaze was drawn to the black, the stark contrast of the black flowers and the black snow against the white silk.  Black was her favorite color, a reflection of the darkness that had taken root in her soul.  Of course, it was not appropriate to wear a full black gown to a palace feast.

"Also," Jingyi continued, her voice filled with a bubbly excitement, "He gave you expensive jewelries.  This are all suitable for you."  She held up a tray, its surface glittering with a collection of exquisite jewels, each piece a testament to her father's wealth and his desperate desire to appease his daughter.