As the Spirit Dance continued.
In Resurrection Square.
On the Gate of the Dead, within the skulls of all manner of creatures, in their once empty, pitch-black eye sockets.
Pale flames began to flicker.
In the palace.
Sia Palenque Eggers stood on a terrace.
Dancing gracefully.
She, too, was performing the Spirit Dance.
But her movements were more forceful, more sweeping.
During that faintly deranged dance, the empress's silver hair swirled through the air like a leaping mass of pale flames.
As her movements rose and fell, her white robe fluttered up from time to time, revealing her chest and thighs, covered in mysterious symbols.
They appeared and disappeared beneath the robe.
Both alluring and mysterious.
Her nails, painted a brilliant gold, traced faint golden trails through the darkness.
As though writing some ancient symbols.
Gradually.
A hint of frenzy crept into the empress's sacred expression.
Her pupils slowly rolled upward.
Until they vanished altogether.
Leaving only the whites of her eyes.
Throughout the capital.
The atmosphere grew frenzied.
Several minutes later.
Residents began collapsing, falling to the ground and convulsing incessantly.
Yet their expressions showed no pain. Instead, they wore smiles.
It was utterly eerie.
However, no one noticed these residents' expressions now.
Everyone had already succumbed to some kind of frenzy.
Their faces were dazed, their excitement feverish.
They began shouting and screaming.
In Resurrection Square, the little girl screamed and collapsed, her body convulsing, her eyes showing only white. Yet the corners of her mouth curled upward, and she actually laughed.
Her mother never noticed that, in just a few seconds, her daughter.
Had stopped breathing.
She had lost her life in a state of extreme frenzy and excitement.
The mother soon followed her daughter to the grave.
And throughout the capital.
More and more residents died