Descendants of The Dead Kingdom [Under Editing]

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"Spring had returned. The forest path by the river was a cascade of yellow and red petals, fallen like a royal carpet awaiting a prince’s arrival.

A young man in a light blue robe strolled down the petal-strewn path, humming a gentle tune. A silver flute and a sword hung from his waistband, each signifying something both peaceful and powerful. His almond-shaped, dark eyes sparkled with a lively curiosity, and the blue and white ribbon bound around his forehead, adorned with cloud designs, marked him as a member of the noble Lan clan. With a laugh, he twirled under the gentle shower of petals, the breeze lifting his robes like wings.

“Incredible!” he exclaimed, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Has some fairy enchanted the forest just for me?”

But suddenly—

Glub… glub… glub…

He froze, his gaze snapping to the river. Bubbles were rising, stirring the surface in an unusual way.

“Is someone drowning?” He dashed to the water’s edge, ready to leap in if needed. Just as he was about to jump, however, water burst up from the river with surprising force, drenching him and sending him sprawling backward.

“Ouch! What was that?” He rubbed his eyes, squinting as he tried to clear his vision.

From the shimmering river, a figure emerged, rising like a vision from a dream. She was ethereal—a celestial beauty with droplets glistening in her long, dark hair, each drop catching the sunlight like tiny jewels. A small golden fish struggled between her delicate fingers, its scales reflecting the sunlight as if painted in pure gold. She held it close, her green eyes wide in fascination, while crystal drops trailed down her cheeks, gracing her dimples.

When she smiled, flower petals seemed to float around her like a divine blessing.

“Am I… seeing an immortal?”

He blinked, dazed, and gave his cheek a quick slap, as if to jolt himself awake from this enchanting vision.

Hearing his murmur, the mysterious woman glanced over sharply. She reached for a silver mask lying nearby and placed it over her face with fluid grace.

Only then did he realize he had been staring, mouth agape, struggling to make sense of it all.

But before he could speak, a chill swept over him as he felt the sharp press of a blade against his neck. Her crystal-clear sword gleamed, mere inches from his throat. Panic fluttered in his chest. He should move, fight back, run—anything. Yet he remained transfixed, struck silent by the power of her gaze.

“Who are you?” she demanded, her voice cold and unwavering.

“I… I am…”

“Did you see my face?”

He opened his mouth, searching for an answer. Of course he’d seen her face; that’s exactly why he was like this, wasn’t it?

Before he could reply, a flash of green cut through the air, roaring toward him like a gust of fury."

      

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