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Deming soared across the sky, his black robes billowing in the wind. A gentle breeze caressed his face, tousling his straight, silky hair. He had long imagined this moment—reuniting with the sunlight's warmth and the wind on his skin. It had been an eternity since he last tasted such freedom, and the distant horizon beckoned him back to his home.

Astara, a realm where mountains reached the sky, surrounded the land like a protective cloak. At the heart of Middle Astara stood a city far more advanced than any other, where history, culture, art, and academia thrived. The grand palace served as the city's crown jewel, its stone walls adorned with stunning carvings portraying the culture and artistry of the Astaran people.

Approaching the palace gates, childhood memories flooded his mind, urging him toward the grand throne room, where his sworn enemy awaited.

The massive doors swung open, and Deming stepped inside, dominating the hall. The Astaran Supreme and the council gaped as the boy they remembered from his youth had matured into a tall adult.

Murmurs filled the chamber. One council member whispered to another, "Isn't that Prince Feng Deming? Wasn't he declared dead?"

Deming's malicious gaze landed on the king's, driven by a thirst for revenge. "Former lieutenant and servant of my father... how dare you sit on my throne!" he taunted in a fierce, deep voice, burning with rage in his glare. "You parasite... You sold me to the faeries as a slave. You disgust me."

Gasps and cries of outrage echoed throughout the throne room. The once-mighty King of Kings shifted, his eyes darting around the room. His composure crumbled as he struggled to comprehend how Deming's escape had occurred.

"What? Did you truly believe I would remain imprisoned forever?" Deming summoned forth a raven-black sword with a sinister aura.

The king attempted to regain control. "These accusations are nonsense! If anyone is breaking the law, it is you, entering my palace uninvited... GUARDS!"

"I made you a promise that day, and as you are aware, I always honor my promises." Deming's gaze bore into the former lieutenant, causing bystanders to recoil in horror. "Your reign ends today, and I will ensure not a single statue is made in your likeness, nor will any Astaran speak your name again until you are forgotten..." he paused, holding his hand before him with indifference. "Also, why would I need permission to enter my own palace?"

The king's heart sank as he grasped the direness of his situation. With trembling hands, he drew his sword in a desperate attempt to defend himself. Yet, before he could raise his blade, Deming moved with lightning speed, striking before the king could lift his sword. With a swift blow, the prince shattered the king's defenses, leaving him gasping as his life force ebbed away.

Deming stood over the fallen ruler, his breath heavy with anger, and the council members fell to their knees.

~*~

In the heart of a grand palace, Lord Muchen sat on his throne in a white hall adorned with silk-woven cloths and towering white pillars. His ebony hair flowed as a man approached, his steps hesitant.

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Yize, the general with long silver hair, flowed down his back like a silken waterfall. His white robe swirled around him, his posture mirroring Muchen's intensity as he stood beside him. "Is Feng Deming truly that big of a threat, my lord? I mean, our realm is far more powerful."

Muchen's eyes shifted towards him as he leaned forward with grace. "He is too strong now... Yize, there is a lot you do not know for your own good."

"My lord, if it's a concern that you have, please do share. Don't keep me in the dark," Yize urged, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

A deep sigh escaped Muchen's lips, tightening his grip on the armrest of his throne, causing the wood to creak. "There is a prophecy about our downfall... the end of all, the end of the Faerie Realm as it is."

Yize's vibrant blue eyes widened, his breath hitching. "That can't be! Does anyone else know about this?"

"Only Lord Chaoxiang."

"The ruler of our realm millions of years ago? Before his cousin overtook the throne and became queen?"

"Yes. Before his death, he passed down the palimpsest of prophecy, hoping it might be stopped one day." Muchen's expression darkened. "According to it, an Astaran man and woman who wield great power will join forces and destroy us."

Yize swallowed hard, his composure faltering. "Astaran? This wickedness must be prevented."

Muchen nodded. "Lord Chaoxiang knew of the forbidden method, and as soon as the girl was born, he sent her away through a portal to an unknown world. He believed it was the only way to prevent their union... However, his toddler son followed her through the portal. Lord Chaoxiang tried to close the portal to prevent his son from disappearing, but to no avail... After losing his son, he was never the same. He lived in misery, and with his only son and heir gone, the glory of the Faerie Realm faded with him."

"So, Lord Chaoxiang was called the Mad King due to his son's disappearance? This is the first time I've heard of it. What about the girl? Since she's no longer in our world, there's no way for her to return."

"For now," Muchen uttered, his voice faltering as he averted his gaze. He clenched his fists, knuckles taut against the dark wood.

Yize hesitated, his gaze following Muchen's fingers drumming against the armrest. "What do you mean by 'for now,' my lord? These words fall heavy on my heart."

Muchen's cold, rigid eyes bore into the general's. "We once had no reason to worry about our realm's future, but now, with the man from the prophecy free, we are entering dark times. He is merely one step away from completely erasing our existence."

"The prophesied man is free? Do you mean Feng Deming, my lord? Is that why you kept him a secret so rigorously?"

Muchen's eyes narrowed. "It is not a secret anymore. We must be cautious from now on and prepare for his attack."

Yize stepped closer, his voice just above a whisper. "Is there a way to prevent this, my lord?"

"There is a way, but for now, we can only hope."

Yize's breath caught. "I trust your judgment, Lord Muchen." His fingers fidgeted with his cloak. "My lord, I forgot to ask—how did you know that Feng Deming was the man from the prophecy?"

Muchen sighed, studying Yize's uneasy face. He leaned forward, his tone sharp. "Ears everywhere, all the time. So watch what your little mouth says, Yize."

"I understand, my lord. You have my utmost devotion."

Muchen raised his chin, eyes narrowing as he traced Yize's trembling brows. "I am aware of your gentle nature, Yize... However, you must realize that I am counting on your strength. You are our strongest asset until the son arrives. We must not falter and lose our focus."

Yize bit his lip, shifting his weight as his hands trembled and his jaw clenched. Nonetheless, he pushed aside his fear and nodded. "Understood, my lord. We will be prepared when the time comes..." He turned to leave but hesitated. His shoulders tensed, and a frown creased his brow as curiosity took hold. "Before I leave, my lord, I wonder why the Astaran man and woman would join forces. You deem Feng Deming a monster, a man devoid of his feelings. He would never allow anyone a piece of his throne."

"That is what we hope for. If only they would kill each other for the throne of Astara." A smile curled Muchen's lips as he let out a low chuckle. "Although I lack complete knowledge of her current abilities, the fact that she has not returned suggests she is most likely weak and vulnerable now. However, we must not let our guard down."

Yize's expression hardened, his nod slow and deliberate. "Thank you, my lord, for trusting me. I will do what must be done."

Muchen gave a firm nod of approval, his gaze returning to the distant horizon. "Good. Prepare the troops. We must be ready for their return," his voice echoed through the grand hall.