MASTERS OF DESTINY | Followers Written Novel

6. WUXIONG POV - His Jasmine's Words of Honor

"I have choice, I have desires, 

 A heart that burns with unquenchable fires. 

 I am not a thing to be held or possessed, 

 A shadow for your longing, a mere guest. 

 No, I am the wind, I am the sky, 

 Not bound by the earth, nor tethered to why. 

 I hold the power, whether seen or not, 

 A force unspoken, a flame in the dark. 

 Desire blooms in the silence I keep, 

 Not for your taking, not yours to reap. 

 I am more than the touch you might seek, 

 More than the words that make you speak. 

 You may wish, but I am the will, 

 The pulse of the earth, the quiet thrill. 

 I stand alone, and though you may try, 

 I rise above, and I do not comply. 

 For whether you want it or not, 

 I am mine, and that is all I've got."

Cit. Theia Girl

[FADE IN]

SOLAR REALM

- IMPERIAL PALACE -

EXT. JASMINE GARDEN

NOON

The Jasmine Garden in the Imperial Palace is a sanctuary of delicate beauty, where sunlight dances through the leaves, casting golden patterns on the polished stones of the path. A breeze stirs the air, bringing with it the fragrance of jasmine flowers that cling to the branches like pearls on a string. It is a place where time feels suspended, a world apart from the clamor of imperial affairs, yet beneath the serene surface, shadows linger, and unspoken truths fester like the roots of ancient trees.

WUXIONG steps into the garden, his presence commanding yet unassuming, a figure who blends into the landscape of his own creation. His silken robes, dark as the night sky, shimmer faintly in the sunlight, and his boots make barely a sound on the smooth marble path. His face, sculpted and serene, reveals little of the turmoil swirling within him. Yet, there is a tension in his shoulders, a barely perceptible tightness in the way his hand, resting loosely at his side, clutches something hidden in the folds of his sleeve.

He pauses before a small cluster of jasmine bushes, their delicate white blossoms trembling in the wind, as if anticipating something. He reaches out with quiet reverence and plucks a single flower from the vine, its petals soft as the whispers of a dream. Holding it for a moment, he allows the fragrance to fill his senses, feeling an unexpected pang of melancholy. Then, with a swift, practiced motion, he hides the flower in the folds of his sleeve, as though shielding it from the world.

Her scent lingers in the petals. The memory of her voice, soft as silk, haunts him.

"Brother."

The voice is calm, low, but unmistakably authoritative. ZHEMIN, the Solar Emperor and Guardian, appears before him, stepping from the shadow of a nearby willow tree. His figure is tall, and though dressed in the splendor of imperial robes, he moves with the grace of a predator in the wild. Gold and red thread glimmers in the sunlight, the intricate patterns on his garments weaving stories of power and dominance. But it is his eyes, sharp as the sun's first rays, that hold WUXIONG's attention.