Three days after the storm, the gates of the Imperial Palace opened for an uninvited guest.
A foreign envoy.
Not from the Western Plains, nor from the merchant cities of the south — but from the Northern Tundra, a land long thought isolated, silent, and buried under snow and legend.
Wrapped in wolf-fur, eyes like frozen obsidian, the envoy bowed before the court.
"I bring greetings from the Sovereign of Aoqin," he said. "And a token from the past."
His voice echoed strangely, tinged with an ancient dialect that few recognized.
Few… except Shen.
He wasn't present in the throne room.
He watched from the upper galleries, disguised as a lantern keeper, high above the courtiers — but his eyes were locked onto the object the envoy now unwrapped.
A banner.
Faded black. Edges frayed. The sigil in its center still intact:
Two dragons — one coiled in light, the other wrapped in shadow — biting their own tails.
Shen's breath caught.
He knew that symbol.
Not from books.
Not from dreams.
From the ring he wore around his neck since childhood.The only thing left in the cloth he was abandoned in.
In the silence that followed, the Emperor frowned.
"The Twin-Dragon Banner," he muttered. "This symbol hasn't flown in over two centuries."
The envoy nodded. "We found it in the Tomb of the Vanished Prince. A grave sealed by moonlight. Your Majesty… we believe it belongs to one of your bloodline."
Murmurs spread through the court.
The Emperor's fingers curled slightly around the armrest of his dragon throne.
Shen felt it — the shift in the air.
Not fear.
Not interest.
Tension.
The kind that comes when a buried truth is dragged toward daylight.
Later that evening, Shen walked alone to the oldest library vault in the palace — one that no servants entered. He'd long discovered the hidden latch behind the mirror.
By candlelight, he searched.
And he found it.
A sealed scroll. Dusty. Faded.
He broke the wax.
Inside were the forbidden bloodlines — names struck from the imperial lineage.
He read aloud:
"Prince Yelin — firstborn of the Dragon Emperor, vanished after rebellion.""Twin sons, born under the Veiled Star.""One died. One vanished."
His pulse slowed.
The scroll was dated exactly two hundred years ago.
"This isn't just my story," Shen whispered. "It's happening again."
The same pattern.
The same fear.
The same… twin.
Meanwhile, the Emperor stood alone at the northern tower, holding a ring.
Not Shen's. His own.
One gifted to him as a boy — by his father.
Also etched with twin dragons.
He stared at the horizon, face cold.
"Not again," he whispered."I will not let the shadow rise."