Chapter One: The Queen Without a Name
The Wu Clan palace did not welcome the sun.
Even at dawn, when light should have poured freely across the mountains, the crimson-and-purple halls remained wrapped in shadow. Towering pillars carved with phoenix wings rose toward a ceiling lost in darkness, their stone feathers sharp enough to draw blood from careless hands. Silk banners stirred high above, heavy with color—too rich, too deep, as if they drank light instead of reflecting it.
At the heart of the throne hall sat a single figure.
She occupied the throne not with arrogance, nor with ease, but with a stillness so complete it felt unnatural. A thin veil draped over her face, pale enough that the faint outline of her lips could be seen when she spoke. Her posture was straight, composed, and coldly elegant—like a blade left resting in its sheath.
"Kneel."
The word fell softly, but it carried weight.
The attendant dropped to her knees at once, forehead pressed to the marble floor. "Yes, my queen."
The woman on the throne did not look at her. Her gaze was fixed beyond the towering doors, beyond the palace walls, as if she were watching something far away.
"The Yun Clan has sent their invitation," the queen said at last.
The attendant—Xia—hesitated. "They request your presence at their annual lecture in Gusu."
Silence followed.
Xia swallowed. "Shall I refuse on your behalf? Your uncle and aunt will be there. The elders as well. If they see you—"
"They will strike me," the queen interrupted calmly, "if they are given the chance."
Xia's fingers tightened against the floor. "Then—"
"But they cannot chain a phoenix."
The wind surged through the hall without warning. Banners snapped violently as lightning flared beyond the palace walls, illuminating the massive phoenix carving behind the throne. For one brief heartbeat, the stone wings glowed as if lit from within—embers of crimson fire tracing every feather.
Then the light vanished.
The queen rose.
Her robes whispered across the marble as she descended the steps, moving with unhurried grace. She stopped before Xia, close enough that the attendant could feel the cold presence pressing down on her chest.
"Prepare a gift," the queen said. "Something small."
Xia lifted her head in disbelief. "You intend to go?"
"I do."
"But… how?"
The queen's lips curved faintly beneath the veil—not a smile, but something sharper. "No one must know who I am."
Xia's breath caught. "You mean to—"
"To walk among them as nothing," the queen finished. "As a foolish girl. Weak. Forgettable."
Her fingers brushed the phoenix ring at her waist, slow and deliberate.
"Let them underestimate me," she murmured. "Let them laugh. Let them look past me."
She turned toward the open doors, where thunder rolled low and distant across the mountains.
"And when the time comes," she said softly, "they will remember why the phoenix is feared."