The air in Yuecheng (月城) is heavy with the scent of night-blooming jasmine, the palace gardens bathed in the cool, silvery light of the full moon. A soft breeze rustles the leaves, creating a gentle whisper that carries across the grounds. The imperial palace is a maze of shadows and flickering lantern light, and somewhere within its depths, secrets are beginning to unravel.
Inside the royal library, the atmosphere is thick with tension and curiosity. The room is dimly lit by a few scattered lanterns, their soft glow dancing on the shelves of ancient scrolls and tomes. Fengxian (梁风贤) and Qin Yuan (秦元) sit closer than they have before, a scroll spread out between them on a low table. The proximity is new, almost electric; the space between them seems to hum with a silent understanding that neither is willing to voice.
Fengxian's eyes flicker over the scroll, but his thoughts are elsewhere. He is acutely aware of Qin Yuan's presence—of the subtle scent of sandalwood that seems to cling to him, of the way his fingers move delicately over the ancient paper, tracing the intricate characters as if they were alive. Fengxian's gaze lingers on Yuan's face, illuminated by the soft, warm light, his amber eyes reflecting the glow like pools of liquid gold.
Yuan, for his part, seems to sense the Crown Prince's distraction. He looks up, meeting Fengxian's gaze, and for a moment, time seems to stop. There is something unreadable in Yuan's expression—an openness, a question, an invitation. The room feels suddenly smaller, the air charged with something unspoken.
"Your Highness," Yuan says softly, almost whispering, "is something troubling you?"
Fengxian hesitates, feeling a pull in his chest. He reaches out, almost unconsciously, his fingers brushing against Yuan's hand as he turns the page. The touch is brief but sends a shockwave through both of them—a connection so intense it is almost painful. Yuan's breath catches, his cheeks flushing slightly, but he does not pull away.
"I—" Fengxian begins, but before he can continue, a sound echoes from the garden—a low, mournful howl that makes both men freeze.
They rise to their feet, moving toward the open window. Outside, the garden is a sea of shadows and moonlight, but something is moving at its edges—something dark and sinuous. The howl comes again, louder this time, filled with a strange, haunting sorrow that sends chills down Fengxian's spine.
"What is that?" Yuan asks, his voice barely more than a whisper, his eyes wide with alarm.
Fengxian grips the edge of the window, his eyes narrowing. "I don't know… but it feels… wrong."
Yuan takes a step closer to the window, his hand still brushing against Fengxian's arm. The moment feels strangely intimate, a quiet solidarity amidst the growing tension. The prince feels an overwhelming urge to protect Yuan, to keep him close.
The garden shifts again. This time, the movement is more distinct—a figure darting between the trees, too fast to be human. Yuan's hand tightens on Fengxian's arm. "We should not be here," Yuan says, his voice trembling slightly.
Fengxian's protective instincts flare. "Stay close to me," he whispers. He steps forward, leaning out the window, trying to get a clearer view of what lurks in the darkness. The figure seems to notice him and stops. A pair of glowing eyes—blood-red and feral—stare back from the shadows. A deep growl rumbles through the night air.
A sudden gust of wind slams the window shut, breaking their line of sight. Yuan jumps back, startled, and Fengxian instinctively pulls him closer. The scrolls on the table scatter, papers flying like startled birds. The room seems to tremble, as if touched by some unseen force.
Before they can make sense of what they saw, a court attendant rushes in, breathless and wide-eyed. "Your Highness! There has been a disturbance in the Western Gardens!" His voice is filled with panic. "Lady Qin Yue… she was attacked!"
Fengxian's heart lurches. "Attacked? By what?"
The attendant hesitates, swallowing nervously. "A… a creature, Your Highness. A beast of water and shadow… a dragon. It disappeared as suddenly as it came. Lady Qin Yue is unharmed, but she is… she is deeply shaken."
Fengxian feels a cold dread settle over him. He turns to Yuan, whose face has gone pale, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and confusion. "We need to go to her," Yuan says, urgency in his voice.
But as they turn to leave, a shadow flickers at the edge of the room, a whispering voice that seems to crawl up from the very walls. "Beware, Crown Prince," it hisses, "for shadows walk where love blooms, and secrets dance in the moonlight."
Yuan and Fengxian both freeze, their hearts pounding in unison, their breath coming in shallow gasps. The room grows colder, the light dimmer, as if the darkness itself is closing in around them.
Just as Fengxian reaches for the door, there is a sudden, eerie silence. The whispers cease, and the air becomes still. Then, out of the silence, a low, menacing growl resonates through the room—a sound that seems to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. The door slams shut on its own, trapping them inside.
Qin Yuan turns to Fengxian, his voice trembling. "What… what is happening?"
Fengxian feels the cold breath of fear on his neck, the room growing darker, the shadows deepening like living things. He tries to maintain his composure, but his own voice is tight with dread. "I don't know… but we are not alone."
Suddenly, the air becomes thick and oppressive. The shadows along the walls start to shift, twisting and writhing as if they have a life of their own. The whispers return, louder now, unintelligible but urgent, like a chorus of desperate voices. The ground beneath them seems to tremble, a low rumble vibrating through the room.
The lanterns flicker wildly, and a cold, unnatural wind blows through the room, carrying with it a strange scent of salt and wet earth, like the depths of a forgotten ocean. The growl that resonated earlier returns, deeper and more threatening, filling every corner of the room.
A shadow darts across Fengxian's vision—fast, too fast—and he instinctively reaches for his sword, only to realize he has none. He glances at Yuan, who is wide-eyed and frozen in place, staring at something behind Fengxian.
Turning slowly, Fengxian's breath catches in his throat. A pair of glowing, blood-red eyes stare back at him from the darkness, just inches away. The creature is massive, its form indistinct but undeniably draconic, coiling like smoke in the dim light, its scales shimmering like liquid shadow. It opens its mouth, revealing rows of razor-sharp teeth, and lets out a low, menacing growl that vibrates in his bones.
Fengxian's instincts scream at him to move, but his feet feel rooted to the ground. The creature lunges forward, jaws wide, and he throws his arms out to shield Yuan—
But just as the beast is about to strike, everything goes dark.
Silence. Complete and utter silence.
Then, a soft rustling sound. Fengxian's eyes flutter open. He finds himself drenched in sweat, heart racing, staring up at the canopy above his bed. The silk sheets are tangled around his legs, and the cold moonlight streams in through the open window, bathing the room in a pale glow.
He sits up, chest heaving, his skin clammy. "It was all a dream," he mutters, running a hand over his face, trying to steady his breath. His hands are shaking, his palms damp.
Lying back down, he takes a deep breath, attempting to calm his racing heart. His mind is still caught in the remnants of the dream—those blood-red eyes, that terrifying presence. He tries to dismiss it, to tell himself it was only his imagination.
But what he doesn't notice is the small pool of water forming beside his bed, soaking slowly into the rug… and in its center, the faint outline of a two headed dragon, traced as if by a child's hand.