The Light Before Dawn

The bells of the citadel tolled at dawn, echoing through marble corridors and golden spires like the heartbeat of a kingdom that had forgotten silence. Within the palace of Siv'An, where the sun was said to rise first each morning, a boy stood at his window, staring beyond the city walls.
Prince Seonghwa of Siv'An, heir to the Radiant Throne, was sixteen-an age too young for duty and too old for innocence. His hair shimmered like pale sunlight, his eyes bright with restless curiosity. The city below gleamed-streets paved with goldstone, towers capped in amber glass-but Seonghwa's gaze was fixed on the gray horizon, where the known world ended and the forbidden wilds began.
He had never seen what lay beyond the gates. No prince of Siv'An ever had.
It was said that beyond the walls, the light faltered-that the gods had abandoned the outer lands, leaving them shrouded in shadow. The King, his father, had decreed it so:
"The heir of Siv'An must not wander where light does not reign."
But Seonghwa had never been good at obeying decrees.
He could feel the energy humming beneath his skin, the pulse of light itself that ran through his veins. When he closed his eyes, he could twist it-bend sunlight into ribbons, shape warmth into color. Yet he yearned for something more than the shimmering perfection of palace life. He yearned for the truth the King would not speak.
And that yearning, that dangerous spark of curiosity, would one day change the world.
For beyond the city walls, in the ruins of forgotten shrines, something ancient stirred. A name, long lost to mortal tongues, whispered through the cracks of the earth:
Hongjoong.