Prologue: Cursed

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Never attempt to read the words of the stars. They lie.

It's a strange sight for an entire room of officials to be pleading for the banishment of a mere newborn. But in the vassal kingdom of Liang, such actions were the norm.

"Emperor, the stars whisper to me every night, claiming that the princess is bad luck. They say that she is an endangerment to the kingdom's prosperity."

"Even the peasants know that girls born in the second month are of ill-fortune," another chimed in.

"That's enough," the man seated on the golden throne commanded, his voice strained yet firm. With a flick of his dragon-embroidered sleeve, he motioned to dismiss the crowd of consultants.

"Your Majesty is a wise ruler who treats his subjects as his own children. The South has been scouting our borders, and the seemingly friendly North might one day swallow us whole. If thousands suffer for one daughter, I fear that the Heavens will turn against us. For the good of the kingdom, your humble servant begs you rid the court of the doomed child," an elderly official exclaimed righteously, getting on his knees and pressing his forehead against the cold marble floor.

In a wave, the officials were all on the ground, carpeting the hall with a frenzy of robes. "Your Majesty, please reconsider," they echoed, their voices ringing throughout the room. In just a few moments, only one man remained upright in the entire hall.

The emperor gazed at the crowd, a faint smile of helplessness tugging at his lips. "My dearest ministers, please rise. The land and the people come before all, including my very own daughter. Do not worry; she will be sent away to a temple before the sun rises tomorrow."

The room rejoiced, and everyone grew fonder of the young emperor. After all, having such a noble ruler during a period of chaos was a cause for celebration. But at the same time, the shadows plaguing the emperor's eyes grew darker, and the scars of time on his face became more pronounced. He cast a sideways glance at the only man who had stood.

"Brother Emperor, perhaps it would be wiser for me to raise her instead," the Lord of DongPing suggested on cue. "The temple is a sacred place. Let her become my daughter. I do not fear these superstitions like you, nor do I face the same burdens as you. She will not be able to harm the kingdom from my home, away from the palace."

There were no more objections. The princess was to be a princess no more.

The crowd filed home, content, while the emperor returned to his empress's bedchambers. His face was unreadable.

But fate has been decided long before you. It is not so easily persuaded.

The canopy of iridescent silk taunted the woman's bloodless face, and the bed's shimmering coat of gold mocked the ghostlike shadows under her eyes. "You've decided, haven't you?" she asked, slightly gasping from the effort it took her to speak.

The emperor sat stiffly by the bed, locked in an invisible throne, gazing into the distance. Though there was only air behind him, his formal posture made it seem as if there was a bed of nails resting against his back.

A faint tug on his robe jerked him back to reality. "You're letting her go, aren't you?" the empress asked again, her voice shaking. She tried to prop herself up but was stopped by the emperor.

"It's for the good of the kingdom," he looked down, a thousand emotions stirring in his eyes as he began to explain himself. "The outside is too unstable. Both the North and the South are trying to capture us for their own. If the interior becomes distrustful..." He paused, shuddering. "It's all going to collapse."

"Shhh... I understand. I've known," she brushed her hand over his mouth to stop him from talking. "We're at the edge of a cliff. She'll understand when she grows up too."

The couple sat there in silence. From the start, they knew they were going to give her away. This morning was but an act to win over the officials, the last move for the young princess as a pawn.

"I've already arranged for the Lord of DongPing to take care of her. There, she'll live a life outside of these towering walls, a life of her own. And maybe, she can actually learn to be happy." He sounded hopeful, as if he was trying to convince himself in the process that his actions weren't all that selfish. "Do you want to look at her before she goes?"

The empress shook her head before closing her eyes. "Your Majesty, blow out the candles before you go. Please. I don't want to see her leave. May the Buddha bless her."

The door creaked shut, adding a new melody to the muffled sobs.

Freedom is the greatest mercy.

For what seemed like an eternity, the emperor stood by the wooden crib. The child sleeping inside seemed so harmless. She wasn't his first child, and he knew that she wasn't going to be his last. Another was already due to arrive within the next few months. But this child stirred his heart in an unspeakable way.

"Take her away," he motioned for a servant. But before one came, he had already changed his mind.

With trembling hands, he reached for his daughter and took her from the crib. Wrapping her in his cloak, he exited the room into the cold night. The snow had long melted, but the weather was still enough to give one chills.

"Lord of DongPing, treat her well," the emperor instructed, carefully handing the child over. But her eyes blinked open, and yawning, she clung to her father's arm, unwilling to let go. As his eyes locked with his daughter's, the emperor's gaze softened. For a split second, his carefully crafted demeanor cracked. Rocking the child until she was once again in the safety of her dreams, he kissed the girl's forehead before handing her to the waiting man.

"Brother Emperor, you are only five years into twenty, stop acting as if you have a whole life behind you," the man joked. Slightly dipping his head and excusing himself, he took the princess with him and vanished into the dark.

As the footsteps gradually faded, a single tear escaped from the emperor's eyes. "Let's hope you have better luck in your next lifetime and look before you decide to reincarnate in the palace," he whispered. Whether it was said for his daughter or himself, no one was there to listen anyways.

The moon disappeared behind a wall of clouds, leaving the shadow of an empty man alone in the night – not of an emperor, only of a man.

But before the end of the year, both the Lord of Dongping and his wife passed away — cause unknown.

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