The sun had barely risen over the mountains when Xia Yan's blade flashed in the pale light, cutting through the air with the precision of a deadly comet. Her every movement was a study in grace and power—each strike, each parry, each fluid shift of her body executed with flawless control. She was the Moonlight Clan's prodigy, their most skilled warrior, but to her, the weight of that title felt like a suffocating chain around her chest.
The clang of metal against metal rang out as she deflected an incoming strike from her opponent. The clangs and thuds of weapons filled the training grounds, but Xia Yan's focus remained unshakable. She was used to the eyes of the clan watching her, judging every move. They whispered about her future, about how she would carry the Moonlight Clan's legacy and its curse. But Xia Yan was tired of being a symbol.
Another swing from her opponent, another perfect counter. The sword in her hand danced through the air, drawing arcs of light before it connected with her target. Her opponent—a skilled warrior in his own right—stepped back, panting slightly, his eyes filled with a mix of awe and frustration.
"You're holding back," he said between breaths.
Xia Yan said nothing in response, only tightening her grip on the hilt of her sword. Her dark eyes were focused, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Her opponent was right—she was holding back. But it wasn't because she didn't want to win. It was because, even with all her power, victory felt hollow.
She'd been training since dawn, but the exhaustion that crept up on her wasn't from physical fatigue. It was from the relentless pressure that bore down on her every day—the pressure to be perfect, to live up to the expectations of the Moonlight Clan, and most of all, to survive the curse that ran through her veins.
Her opponent lunged again, his sword aimed for her midsection. She sidestepped with the fluidity of a stream, and with a swift flick of her wrist, disarmed him. The sword flew from his hands, landing with a soft thud in the dirt. The match was over.
Her opponent bowed, but Xia Yan only gave him a curt nod.
She didn't need thanks; she didn't need praise.
She needed to feel something other than the weight of her family's legacy.
She needed to be something other than the heir to the Moonlight Clan.
As the other warriors gathered their weapons and began to clear the training grounds, Xia Yan stood still for a moment, her chest rising and falling with each breath.
The air around her was thick with the tension of unspoken expectations. It wasn't just the pressure to succeed—it was the pressure to become something. Something greater, something more than herself.
But what if she didn't want to be the heir?
What if she didn't want the weight of her clan's curse hanging over her for the rest of her life?
What if she didn't want to be the tool that fulfilled a prophecy, the one fated to either save or destroy everything she held dear?
The sword felt heavy in her hand, not from the weight of the metal, but from the legacy it represented. The Moonlight Clan's greatest warriors had all died young, consumed by the very curse that flowed through her veins. Yet here she was, alive, and powerful—and alone.
A voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and commanding.
"You're distracted again."
Xia Yan turned to find her father, Lord Qin, standing at the edge of the training grounds.
His gaze was intense, his eyes narrowing as they settled on her. He was tall and imposing, his presence as powerful as the legacy he carried, but there was something in his expression now that made Xia Yan hesitate—a shadow of concern that she rarely saw.
"Father," she said, wiping the sweat from her brow, her tone respectful but distant.
"You're still not giving it your all," he continued, his voice firm. "The clan expects more from you, Xia Yan. You are the future of the Moonlight Clan. You can't afford to hold back."
Xia Yan's jaw tightened. "I gave everything I had."
Lord Qin's eyes softened for just a moment, but the weight of his words remained. "Then give more. Every time you hold back, it's a sign of weakness. And weakness will be the thing that destroys us all."
Xia Yan stared at him, feeling the cold bite of his words sink into her skin. She knew he only wanted what was best for her, for the clan, but it was suffocating. It was never enough.
She forced a smile, though it felt like a mask. "I understand, Father."
But inside, her heart was heavy. The clan's expectations were a burden she carried alone, and there was no escape from it. Not now, not ever.
As Lord Qin turned away, satisfied with her compliance, Xia Yan stood motionless, watching him walk off toward the clan's inner halls. The murmurs of her fellow warriors faded into the distance, leaving her alone in the vast, empty training grounds. For a moment, she wondered what it would be like to walk away from all of this—to escape the suffocating grip of destiny and legacy. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it was impossible.
The weight of her bloodline was not something she could cast aside, not something she could outrun. And even if she could, would she be any different from the shadows that haunted her ancestors?
She turned her gaze to the distant horizon, her mind restless and uncertain.
The future was coming for her—whether she was ready for it or not.