The Yuan Dynasty Protectorate

The last thing Gan Dae'e remembered was the Italian handcrafted crystal chandelier backstage at the Balenciaga runway show in Paris. Light reflected off its cut surfaces and danced across the custom gown she'd just bought. As the chiffon hem swept the floor, the champagne stains it picked up looked like clouds that vanished in an instant. Her assistant Amy was hurrying over with a tablet. “Goose, the tailor on Savile Row says the riding outfit you wanted is ready. Would you like to check it on video...” Her words broke off in the middle of a shrill burst of static. The crystal chandelier suddenly flared with blinding white light. Gan Dae'e instinctively raised a hand to shield her eyes, but her fingertips touched not the cool glass she expected, but a patch of rough, scorching-hot fabric that reeked of sheep.