The bells of Hwansong tolled like cries of the dead, the phoenix throne was burning, smoke curled into the midnight sky as the royal palace drowned in chaos. solders stormed the courtyard, their blades glinting red torchlight. loyal guards fell one after another, their blood soaking the white stone steps.
Inside the queen's chambers, the air smelled of ash and iron. A child's wail echoed above the carriage. swaddled in crisom cloth, the infant prince writhed in the arms of a trembling maid, his tiny wrist bore a strange mark, a crescent flame that glowed faintly in the firelight.
"The heavens' mark has cursed us," the maid whispered, clutching him close as the doors crashed open. At the threshold stood "Minster Hwang Dojin", his robe spotless, his face unreadable. Behind him trailed soldiers with drawn swords, their armor smeared with the blood of men they once served.
The maid fell to her knees. " mercy, my lord, he is but a child."
Dojins' cold eyes swept over her, then rested on the crying child. The glow of the mark caught his gaze, and something shifted in his expression. A general steeped forward, voice harsh. " The royal bloodline must be erased. one order, minister, and the boy dies."
The infant wailed louder, as if protesting his fate. For a long moment, Dojin said nothing. He moved closer, the firelight painting sharp lines across his face. his hand hovered above the child's wrist, fingers brushing against the mark. it pulsed warmly under his touch.
"THE HHEVENS MARK," he murmured. his lips curled into the faintest smile. "So the prophecy is true." The general frowned. "Prophecy?"
Dojin straightened, his voice steady, "Only once in an age is a child born with Heaven's mark. it is said he will bring the rise or the ruin of kingdoms."
" Then kill him now, before he grows into ruin."
"NO" dojin's tone final, laced with steel. His eye glimmered like a predator's. "This boy is not to die. he will live under my hand, under my watch. and when the time is right..."His voice trailed, heavy with meaning.
The maid looked up, flicking in her tear-streaked face, but mercy had not saved the child. Ambition had. Dojin turned to her, "Take him, hide his name, bury his bloodline. From this night forth, he is no prince. He is no one." The maid swallowed her sobs. and obeyed, clutching the infant tightly. She knew she had no choice. outside, the flames of the palace roared louder, devouring the banners of the old dynasty. Dojin watched the inferno with calm detachment. To the world, this was the end of the royal house. but to him, it was the beginning.
The boy's name was( YUN SEOJIN ), but the world did not know it for many years.
The sun rose over "Hwanseong" like a reluctant witness, casting pale light on the runs of the royal palace. The once-proud banners of the phoenix were reduced to soot. The air smelled of burnt wood, dried blood, and silence- a silence too heavy for a kingdom that had lost its voice overnight.
In the capital's street, the people whispered.
" The Kind is Dead"
" They say the entire royal family was slaughtered."
" A new order rises ....... minster Hwang Doyin stands closest to the throne now."
Fear sealed their lips before they said more. Every corner of Hwanseong buzzed with rumors, but no one dared speak them aloud.
inside the great council hall, the surviving ministers gathered in mourning robes. Their heads bowed low, though their eyes flickered with suspicion. Hwang Doyin stood at the head of the chambers, his hands folded neatly in his sleeves. his calm presence contrasted with the disarray around him.
" The heavens have punished us," one minister croaked, voice trembling, " the royal line is ended without a right heir, the thrones."
"Belong to the one strong enough to protect it," Doyin interrupted smoothly. His voice cut through the chambers. like a blade, "Chaos will devour this kingdom if we hesitate; we must crown a new ruler before rebellion festers".
Another minister frowned. " And who would that be, Minister Hwang? surely you do not mean" Dojins lips curved into a faint smile." Who else but the one entrusted with the kingdom's survival? The people already look to me for order.", uneasy glance darted around the room. None dared challenge him. outside the chambers, in the shadow of a broken pavilion, a cloaked figure listened to a young soldier loyal to the old dynasty, his jaw tightened as he clenched his fist. The royal family was gone, but he had heard whispers from the night before. Whispers of a child spared.
If there was truth to it, the bloodline of kings still lived. That hope, fragile as morning light, would not die. Meanwhile, far from the palace walls, in a hidden corner of the city, a maid cradled the infant prince in trembling arms. his wrist glowed faintly with the "Heaven's Mark" even as he slept. She pressed her lips to his brow, whispering.
"Live, my lord. even if the world forgets your name-LIVE."
And so, as the kingdom mourned, plotted, and whispered, two paths quietly began to unfold: one ruled by a minister who sought to seize the throne, the other bound to a boy whose very blood carried the weight of destiny.