Royal Palace of Zandara — Inner Hall of Shields
Night draped the kingdom of Kemetwa in a velvet silence, pierced only by the flickering flames of oil torches. Within the Hall of Shields, where every monarch of Kemetwa had once prepared for war, Queen Nalya stood alone.
The walls were lined with shields of past generations — some engraved with suns, others with animals of power: lions, eagles, crocodiles. Each shield bore the spirit of an era. At the center of the hall rested a round table made of obsidian, polished so finely it reflected the stars.
Nalya placed her hands upon it and closed her eyes.
The table was not just stone.
It was an altar.
A memory vault.
And tonight, she would summon what was buried.
From the doorway, a soft voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Majesty," whispered an old woman wrapped in linen and beads. It was Ezinah, the royal priestess, keeper of ancestral rites.
"Speak," Nalya said without opening her eyes.
"The sea speaks. He has arrived."
Nalya opened her eyes.
"Then we begin."
⸻
At the Borderlands — Outskirts of the River Tembe
A lush jungle greeted the imperial soldiers as they made their first camp. The forest buzzed with unknown insects and glowed with strange plants that curled when touched. Birds with wings like stained glass flew overhead.
General Baek had never seen land so alive.
He turned toward Tae-jun, who knelt to touch the soil.
"They know we're here," the emperor said.
"How?" Baek asked, glancing at the untouched jungle.
"Because the silence is too perfect."
Tae-jun stood, and behind him, twenty soldiers moved in silent formation. The emperor led them toward the River Tembe, the first natural border to the capital.
The river flowed red under the setting sun.
But it was not blood.
It was the clay-rich earth, stirred by hidden movement beneath.
They were being watched.
And then — a sound.
Low. Rhythmic.
Drums.
Three beats.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
From across the riverbank, a procession appeared.
Dozens of warriors, faces painted with symbols, stood in flawless lines. Their shields bore images of the sun and the serpent. At their center rode a woman on a white lion.
Queen Nalya.
She wore a battle robe of copper and black, her hair braided into a crown, her eyes unblinking.
The lion stopped at the river's edge.
Nalya spoke — not with rage, but with power.
"Turn back, son of the East."
Her voice traveled across the water like thunder on silk.
Tae-jun stepped forward.
He removed his helmet, revealing his face.
"I came not to kneel. Nor to plunder. But to meet the soul of the land."
A long silence followed.
Then Nalya dismounted.
And for the first time — the emperor of Goryeo and the queen of Kemetwa stood face to face.
Neither spoke.
But something ancient stirred in the air between them.
⸻
At the Spirit Temple — Three Nights Later
In the highlands of Kemetwa, carved into cliffs of sapphire stone, stood the Temple of the Veil, where no light entered without permission.
Inside, the Sorcerer walked among shadows, his long fingernails trailing across the bones of forgotten kings.
He summoned fire from his palm, revealing a vision:
Tae-jun and Nalya, side by side on a field of stars.
He screamed.
"They must not unite!"
From the depths of the cave, a deeper voice responded.
"Then you must break the thread of fate."
⸻
At the Palace Garden — Zandara
Nalya walked alone under moonlight.
She touched the leaves of the sacred tree.
Behind her, footsteps.
It was him.
Tae-jun.
"I shouldn't be here," he said.
"And yet you are."
They faced each other again, not as ruler and ruler, but as man and woman.
"I felt you before I saw you," Tae-jun admitted.
"We have walked these lands before," she whispered, "but not in this life."
He reached for her hand.
She did not pull away.
"Then what is this?" he asked.
"A war," she said. "Of spirit."