One moon later — Imperial Palace of Goryeo
The halls of the palace were unusually still that morning.
Beneath the tiled rooftops shaped like phoenix wings, a hush had fallen over the courtiers. Even the wind seemed reluctant to disturb the stillness that had taken hold.
Then came the sound of hurried sandals. Guards sprinted through the stone corridors, their breath caught between disbelief and duty.
The outer gates creaked open.
He stumbled forward.
The general who had vanished.
His armor was cracked, one pauldron missing. His hair, once bound in the tidy fashion of a court soldier, hung in clumps over his face. His skin, tanned beyond recognition, was marred by lash marks and sunburns. One eye was swollen shut.
But he walked.
He walked until he reached the Throne Hall, and then he fell to his knees.
Emperor Go Tae-jun descended the dais without a word. His silk robes swept the floor like smoke.
"Speak," he ordered.
The general's voice was raspy, barely more than breath.
"Your Majesty… I crossed lands where the moon burns red, and the stars dance differently. Where lions guard the rivers, and the wind speaks in forgotten tongues…"
He paused to cough, blood dotting his lips.
"They didn't kill us. They imprisoned us."
"Who?" Tae-jun asked.
"A kingdom… called Kemetwa. Led by a queen… no, not a queen — a god in human form."
Tae-jun's expression did not change, but a flicker crossed his gaze.
"Describe her."
The general's good eye stared up, lost somewhere far away.
"She shines. Skin darker than obsidian, but soft as dusk. Her voice — thunder and silk. She walks as if the ground itself follows her feet."
A moment of silence stretched long.
"And the others?" the emperor asked.
"Still alive. Held in a fortress… one carved from white stone. But guarded by beasts and men who do not sleep. I escaped only by the grace of the gods."
A murmur swept through the court, as the words white stone fortress echoed. Whispers of Kemetwa had reached them before, but never like this — never through the mouth of a man who had lived to return.
Tae-jun turned away.
"Enough. Let him be treated."
Two guards stepped forward to carry the man, now unconscious, blood trickling from his nose.
⸻
That night — the Emperor's private quarters
A candle flickered on the lacquered desk. Scrolls lay open — accounts of ancient southern lands, old trade records, forgotten reports of ships lost to southern waters. One word appeared again and again, sometimes spelled differently.
Kemetwa.
A place beyond the maps. A throne ruled by a woman who did not kneel. A land his ancestors had never conquered — because they had never dared.
Tae-jun stood before the open window. The moon hung low, veiled in passing clouds.
"So you rule a land that does not fall," he whispered.
"Then perhaps it is time I meet you."
⸻
Meanwhile — Kingdom of Kemetwa
The Ancestor Flame burned higher than ever before.
Nalya sat in meditation beside it. Eyes closed. Still as stone.
In her dream-vision, the man in red came again. But this time, he spoke:
"We were not meant to meet. And yet, here we are."
She opened her eyes.
She felt the earth shift.
The East was coming.