Dawn cracked against the palace gates, golden light spilling like molten silk over the marble steps. The Southern Journey was meant to be ceremonial—an imperial inspection of old provinces and the restoration of ancient temples blessed by the heavens.
But Rui knew better.
Beneath the official scrolls and smiling farewells, he felt the tremble in the earth.
Something stirred.
He stood beside Li Yuan as they mounted their horses, the royal convoy behind them glinting in armor and color. They were guarded, yes—but not with the usual might of the capital. Only a select retinue accompanied them, most handpicked by Minister Yu Lian himself.
Rui noticed that.
Li Yuan, dressed in obsidian-trimmed robes, leaned toward him. "You're quiet."
"Because I'm watching."
A smile flickered across the emperor's lips. "Then stay close."
He offered his gloved hand.
Rui hesitated—then took it.
The Departure
Trumpets sounded. Bells rang. The people of the capital knelt in reverence as the procession rolled through the main avenue. Children tossed petals; monks chanted blessings from rooftops. It was a display of unity. Loyalty.
But Rui felt none of that.
He could feel the gazes of the ministers as they watched from the palace walls—Yu Lian chief among them. Their smiles were too controlled, their bows too stiff.
They want us gone, Rui thought. And not just gone. They want us erased.
As the city vanished behind them, Rui's shoulders relaxed slightly. The weight of the palace walls faded—but a new tension brewed.
"I overheard them," Rui said, voice soft enough only Li Yuan could hear.
The emperor glanced his way.
"The envoys. The ministers. They spoke of balance. Of fear. Of me."
Li Yuan said nothing for a moment. Then, "I'm not blind, Rui. I know what they're trying to do."
"Then why leave the city?"
"Because if we stay, they'll turn the court against us quietly. But outside the capital, we can confront the truth on our terms."
Rui looked forward.
"Or walk into a trap."
Li Yuan reached across the space between their horses, brushing his fingers against Rui's. "Then we walk into it together."
The Journey South
The path to the southern provinces cut through thick forests, mountain passes, and sunlit valleys. On the second day, they reached the edge of a mist-covered gorge. In its depths rested the Temple of Tài Chū Guān —an ancient sanctuary said to have been built by the gods themselves.
It was Rui's idea to stop.
"There's something here," he said as they stood before the crumbling archway. "I feel it. "
Li Yuan glanced at the towering stone gate, vines choking its symbols. "This place hasn't been entered in centuries."
"Exactly."
They left the guards to camp above and entered the temple alone.
Inside, the air was thick with silence. Strange runes glowed faintly on the walls, pulsing with a heartbeat of old magic. Rui brushed his fingers against one.
The stone came alive.
A vision flashed—too fast to grasp fully. Fire. A silver dragon. A crown shattered beneath a crimson sky. Rui staggered.
Li Yuan caught him. "What did you see?"
"I… I don't know. But it was me."
His voice cracked. "And it was you. There was blood. A throne."
The emperor held him tighter. "Another omen?"
Rui looked up at him. "No. A prophecy."
Beneath the Campfire Stars
That night, they camped near the river, stars blinking like fireflies overhead. The soldiers laughed and shared stories near the fires. But Rui stayed at the edge of the camp, staring at the water.
Li Yuan found him there.
"You're shaking."
"I dreamed it again," Rui murmured. "The vision. But this time I heard voices. They called me starborn."
Li Yuan sat beside him.
"They said I would destroy everything."
"No," the emperor said firmly. "You are meant to change it."
"I don't want to be part of some divine plan," Rui whispered. "I didn't choose this."
Li Yuan turned to him, firelight dancing in his eyes. "Neither did I. I didn't choose to become emperor at nineteen. I didn't choose to take a kingdom by force."
He reached up, brushing a lock of silver hair from Rui's face.
"But I choose you."
Rui's breath caught.
Their lips hovered—so close, and yet—Rui looked away.
"Don't."
Li Yuan's voice tightened. "Why?"
"Because if you keep choosing me, they'll kill you."
"They'll try," Li Yuan said. "And they'll fail."
Elsewhere, in the Shadows
Far north, back in the capital, Minister Yu Lian stood over a long table surrounded by foreign generals and disguised spies. A map lay beneath his hands—marked with red ink and symbols.
"They entered the temple," a messenger reported. "The consort reacted to its energy."
Yu Lian smiled coldly. "Good. It means the gods truly favor him."
One of the generals frowned. "Then why kill him?"
Yu Lian looked up slowly. "Because the gods are not loyal. And if this boy fulfills prophecy, then no throne will be safe from him—not even yours."
The general sat back.
Yu Lian turned to the group. "On the third day of their journey, they'll reach the Valley of Wéi Xiàn. That's where we strike. The terrain favors an ambush. Their personal guard is limited. And the locals have been paid well."
He lit a candle and dropped black wax on the valley's name.
"They will not leave it alive."