Lin Zhiyi was explaining Khitan artifacts when, in the blink of an eye, she transmigrated into the body of a young shaman at a sacrificial altar.
To save her life, she made a public prediction: “A blood moon will rise tonight, and the deputy general on the left will rebel.”
The young emperor, Yelü Xuanlie, pulled her onto his horse. “From now on, you belong to me.”
She knew he was destined to die young, yet she still stood by him as he crushed the Eight Tribes and ascended the throne.
But after she took an arrow for him and lost her memory, she heard him whisper in her ear:
“Little shaman, tell my fortune one more time. Tell me whether you can stay in my heart.”
The history books would never record how, on that snowy night at Black Mountain, he held an unknown shaman girl and wept like a child.
