Curse of the Crimson Eyes

I sat at the middle table with a few militia members, holding a map.

“The front will be tough; place our strongest men at the front.” I was lost in thought, questioning the trope's strength.

How are we going to win this war?

“How about we lay an ambush?” I turned to the soldier who spoke, nodding at him.

“Good. Now….”

I paused mid-speech when a messenger entered, panting; he could barely stand.

What is more urgent than this war?

“Report! My lord, creatures are attacking our kingdom.”

“What creature?”

“Animals breathing fire.”

She can’t transform.

“So?”

“Our king…” I stood up as my heart skipped. “He has been injured."

One of my men turned to me, confused. “Our enemy has powerful allies; they are already attacking from all city gates.”

“Report! The realm port has opened, and animals breathing fire are intruding on our land.”

“Run!” a voice cried out loud, running past our open door.

I ran out at once, hopping on my horse. Our enemy shot an arrow at my horse, crippling it.

I jumped, landing on a dead body.

“General! Run!” a voice cried out as an arrow passed through his throat.

I looked around, watching all my soldiers lose their lives for a burning nation.

My heart ached, and I rose to my feet, defeated by the bow of a mere man.

“Dance to the song you play!” I cried out in anger.

Dark smoke emitted from my palm, and my body changed. A searing liquid dropped from my eyes, sharpening my iris; it sliced the air in two.

“What is that in the air?”

I had no choice but to release my secret, even if the consequences were irreversible.

“Run…. A demon is in the air.”



Queen Yù Yuè, in her sleep, turned to the other side of the bed, stretching her arm to reach her sleeping son. 

What’s that? Her lashes fluttered open, hearing a heavy breath.

Her gaze fell on her shivering son, soaked in sweat.

“Jùn!” She sat up, drawing him against her chest.

My young son, what haunted your dreams this time? 

"I'm here." Fear filled her breaking voice.

“Just open your eyes. You are scaring me.” Her eyes flooded with tears, patting her son’s damp hair.

She hugged him, mumbling an incantation.

The candles hung on the wall, lit, burning intensely, and incense filled the air above her, thick and endless.

 His heart hammered wildly beneath her arm.

“Mother,” a faint word escaped his lips, his eyes fluttering open

 He gasped, clutching her sleeve, as though she might vanish if he let go. 

Lord! Save my son; he's your descendant. She brushed his sweat-soaked hair from his forehead, subbing.

"Tell me," she murmured, but thoughts filled her mind. He shook his head as tears spilled down his cheeks. 

"Don't be afraid," her worried eyes shut, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"Nothing will happen to you. I promise." The lie tasted bitter even as she spoke it.

Lord, my son bears the weight of the throne. I beg you—deliver him from these nightmares that plague his innocent sleep. 

Her heart shattered with every sob, and in desperation, she opened her eyes, believing his dreams would stop. His small, shaking frame shook in her arms.

His tight muscles released as he slowly fell asleep in his mother's arms.

She sat watching him; her thoughts drifted to the words of the high priest.

"This is weird; every prince of Huǒyuán carries a birth cultivation. Why is your not showing any sign of being a bloodline?"

Why don't you ask your king? I carried his blood and brought it to life. Don't question my sacrifice.

“Her Highness is benevolent and is part of the monarch's family.”

"The blood of Tiān in his veins, cultivation can be practiced.”

“Lord Tian Hao, our ancestor, was said to be demonic and destructive. How was his birth?”

“Our queen is such a royal literate."



The morning sun fell on Sì Tiān Temple, the quarter of spiritual force.

The inscription on the wall reads in a foreign language.

The monarch family appeared in the temple; the hall loomed vast and ancient, its stone pillars drenched in incense. Candlelight flickered across relics older than the kingdom itself. 

“Long live Your Majesty. Your Highness, we never expected your visit, and the high priest has been in the hall for days now.” A eunuch kowtowed, pressing his folded palm to the other.



At the center of the chamber, the High Priest sat cross-legged; incense thickened the air.

The royal family entered, settling on the side meditation mat.

Time stretched long as the priest remained in the same posture, his eyes shut, but his lips kept beating each other without uttering a word. Sweat drenched his garments.

Tiān Jùn slept fitfully in his mother's arms while the hours stretched on. 

An incantation pressed heavily against the air as the mumbling words became louder.

At last, his eyes flew open.

The tension in the hall snapped as his voice thundered.

"Let him dream," the priest took a deep breath.

Queen Yù Yuè’s hold on her son tightened.

"When the time is right," the priest continued softly, "the flame will return to the fire."

The queen felt blood drain from her face. Beside her, King Tiān Lóngxuān did not move. His posture remained rigid, his expression composed—but fear flickered beneath it, swift and unmistakable. 

The priest shut his eyes and continued his incantation.

King Tiān Lóngxuān rose to his feet, dissolving subtly in the air.

His Highness is in a bad mood. Queen Yù Yuè looked down at her son, who was sleeping peacefully in her arms. She patted his hair, as a smile tugged at her lip.

How I wish you could sleep like this every night. She sat still, waiting, but the bright sky slowly got darker and darker until nightfall. 

The moon hung high in the sky, but the High Priest sat mumbling unknown words.

“Mama,” his sleepy eyes opened slowly as she lifted him, carrying him in her arms.

You must have been so tired. “Sleep on my arm; we will be home soon.” She rose to her feet, releasing her magic.

She dissolved in the air, appearing in her chamber.

“Mama. I'm tired,” he mumbled, scratching his eyes. 

She lay him on her bed, smiling. “Yes, son. Sleep, I'm here.”

He held her gown, returning to his sleep. Her smile widened; her heart ached to watch him sleep like a child he is.

She lay beside him, singing a poem; her gaze drifted out the window to the bright full moon as she patted him.

“The moon is bright; the wind is quiet; the tree leaves hang over the window.”

“My baby, go to sleep quickly. Sleep, dreaming sweet dreams….”

Her smile faded, noticing that the air slowly became poisonous, as the moon was covered with a gloomy cloud.  

It’s not the monarch's night.  She released her energy, balancing the air.

A chilly breeze crept into the room, and the candles in the lampstands flickered.

Her gaze remained fixed on the spot where the moon was.

 “Ouch.” Her heart skipped as his body released weird energy; she removed her finger from him, sitting up.

Jùn? Wake up! Tears dropped from her eyes with every blink.

Her heart bled in pain as he shivered. She took a deep breath, transferring energy to him.

The venomous air thickened as the candle flickered off. She held her chest, panting for air; all her muscles weakened as the venom took control.

No… no. Wake up! 

Nothing will happen to you; you are a royal!

“Mama….” He mumbled as his eyes snapped open, coughing thick blood, pain tearing through his chest as air rushed back into his lungs. His fingers trembled, numb with cold.

The air lit, and the candle rekindled.

“Mama.” his weak lashes fluttered as he looked up.

“You are a royal,” she reassured, wiping her teary eyes.

His Highness may be in a bad mood, but our son….

The morning sun touched the palace as Queen Yù Yue stood before the King's chamber; the morning breeze tugged at her gown as she stood, her gaze fixed on the closed door. A door opened, and a eunuch came out; he shut the door, noticing the queen's presence.

“Your Highness is diligent and selfless; may you live long.” The eunuchs kowtowed, pressing a folded palm to the other.

He straightened, bowing. 

“Retire now, Your Highness. His Majesty has given orders.” 

Let me in already, my Lord! Her gaze remained fixed on the door, not moving.

Jùn was left alone on the bed. Oh, I didn’t chase all the maids. Her heart ached as she smiled, facing the sealed door.

“Your Highness is benevolent and merciful. Please attend your last unfinished meeting with Prince Lee.”

Lee? “They are dismissed!” She lowered her head, taking a deep breath.

When the sun climbed high, the doors finally creaked open, and the King's attendants walked out with their heads low.

Queen Yù Yue raised her head as her lashes fluttered weakly; she entered the cold chamber carrying the burden of her son.

She stopped in the middle of the chamber, bowing.

"My lord…" She raised her head in pain. “How was your night?”

In the queen's chambers, young Tiān Jùn woke up alone.

Mama?

"Mother?" he spun, scratching his eyes. No answer.

He sat up, turning around.

A maid bowed respectfully and whispered, "Her Majesty is with the King."

He crept down the bed. Walking out of the chamber, the maid followed.

Tiān Jùn walked down the corridor. The guards stood stiffly, saying nothing.

"Is my mother inside?" he asked.

The maid nodded softly, and she halted as he continued.

The corridor was too quiet. His childish heart beating hard, the boy stepped close to his father’s chamber doors — and heard voices.

Mama?

He peered through a narrow crack. Queen Yù Yuè stood facing her husband, her eyes full of sorrow.

"My king... I don't want our son to die," her voice broke, and her eyes filled with unshed tears as her step took forever to touch the marbled floor. "These dreams — they're not ordinary anymore." She released her shivering palms, holding her tears.

"These dreams are getting worse," her voice broke, remembering the blood on his blanket. "Your Highness…"

The king turned to the throne opposite him, feeling sentiment in her voice, and his shoulders remained rigid.

"I know," he swung his arm to his back, walking to his throne.

It’s time.

"They will only grow worse. That is why… it may be time to find him a companion."

She stared at him in disbelief as she lost her balance, falling to her knees; her watery eyes poured.

"He is still a child," she cried, remembering how he struggled in bed. "He knows nothing of cultivation, nothing of power—he is our son!"

How? Which hand will be calm enough to train him?

"His magic is still controllable…" Silence stretched between them.

Please don’t… my lord. Her grip on her gown tightened as she followed his steps.

"What would you have me do?" he roared. "Yù Yuè! What should I do? We can't have another child. I'm cursed!"

“You humans are weak!”

Too weak to take my blood a second time. He dissolved into the air.

Outside the chamber doors, Tiān Jùn lost his balance, collapsing to his knees.

!Far to the south, fate took another shape. Lord Chen, a wealthy trader from the Southern Province, was respected by villagers and merchants alike. His estate stood as a symbol of fortune, its halls filled with laughter on the night of his wedding.

His night stretched longer than a regular day.

“Help! Is anyone there?”

I grumbled in the dark room, patting the empty air to find the door.

“Chen… here.” A ragged voice followed my step.

I paused mid-step as hot sweat dripped from my head.

“Here’s the key.”

“Please help!” I ran into a tree.

Where am I? Why is it night?

"My soul will walk your halls." Its voice echoed through the darkness of his dream.

He jolted awake, heart pounding.

He turned to his side, checking his environment. He took a deep breath as his gaze stopped at his peacefully sleeping wife, and nothing seemed to exist.

He caressed her chin, smiling.

Sì Tiān is not only a blessing but also a cedar of beauty.

Months flew by faster as he visited the capital for business meetings.

Lord Chen's fame bombed as news spread that his wife was pregnant.

As her labour drew closer, he returned her to her parents at Sì Tiān in the west.

On the night her labor began, he journeyed from the east to the temple for prayers.

He kowtowed, closing his sour eyes.

“Lord, I’m a sinner…” he kept murmuring until he dozed off.

"Am I welcome in your family?"

I’m not a monk. How can I know what to reply?

"If you are my wife's child," Chen whispered, folding his arms, "then you are welcome."

The voice thundered. "Hurry. She will leave soon."

Who is leaving?

He woke drenched in sweat, staggering to his feet as he called for his assistant.

They rushed out, hopped on his horse, and rode back home through the streets.

As he reached the courtyard, he heard the cry of a newborn... and the cheers of his household.

He dismounted, running into the labour chamber.

“Lord Chen.” A midwife walked past him, smiling.

The people in the room turned to him, smiling widely.

“It’s a baby girl. You are a father.” The chief midwife adjusted, unveiling the curtain to the bed.

There she was, his child. His daughter in his wife's arms.

I don’t only have a queen but also a princess. His every step slowed as his gaze fell on his wife.

She smiled, turning to him. He stood adoring the creature before him.

I love you, wife.

"I'm a father..." tears slip from his eyes, overwhelmed.

A chilly breeze crept in, and the candles flickered. The chief midwife turned sharply at the door, clapping her palm.

“Lord Chen, please return.” She pointed at the women in the room to prepare.

“Chen.” Her voice came faintly.

Her weak eyes shut as her arm released the child. The chief midwife caught the baby, passing her to the woman behind as she started the purifying ritual.

Lán Xuě…. He watched his wife's neck fall freely.

“Lán Xuě…. Wife?” He pushed the woman, holding her up.

What is happening?

“Xuě.” He shook her violently, trembling.

“Lán Xuě… Wake up.” He held her cold, stiff hand, rubbing it vigorously.

“Lord Chen. The cleansing ritual needs to be done now!”

“No, Lán Xuě. Wife? Wake up!” He continued robbing her cold body.

“Chen?” A calm voice came from behind.

He turned sharply, and his watery eyes flowed.

“Mama…” His mother-in-law stood at the doorway, still in her temple duty garment.

The full moon night became mournful.

By morning, visitors filled the yard. Lord Chen's father-in-law’s estate was filled with dignitaries both known and unknown to him. Lán Xuě had been an imperial dancer, admired by nobles across the province.

Chen sat alone in his chamber, staring at nothing. The yard was filled with a famous business family.

He received them speaking politely, as if grief had hollowed him out. Lord Chen remained with his In-law; grief was his daily companion. He almost forgot he had a child. What stirred him from his pain was a letter from his business partner. He was about to return to his town when he received a message about his younger sister. He watched his sleeping baby, lost in thought. He buried his wife, but his grief remained. He named his daughter Mò Lián. The girl grew beneath the stern gaze of her mother's family—rigid, spiritual, unyielding in their rules.

Lord Chen remained distant, consumed by business in his hometown, the Southern Province. He rarely visits. Mò Lián grew up calling her grandparents "Mama, Papa."

She watched other young parents braid their children's hair, but her parents were always taking her to the temple. She became accustomed to chanting, the endless burning of incense, and meditation.

Mò Lián loved playing with her fellow children, but their parents' gaze was too strong for her to uphold. She was an outdoor person. She played only when her aunt visited. Lord Chen lost his business contract as rumors spread. "His family has misfortune. Why then did he marry from the temple?"

"Hahaha. He was seeking more favour, but his misfortune has just expanded."

"I know he is famous and rich. Who knows what he does to get all those? Hmph."

As years passed, Mò Lián became accustomed to seeing her father annually. He visited only during festivals, a fleeting shadow of a father. She met Yù Xuān, a kind soul older than her, from the sacred inner temple island. The two had grown together.

Mò Lián lived cloistered within the monk quarters, while Yù Xuān belonged near the temple island, where only royal priests were allowed to serve. Their stations were divided, their worlds never meant to touch—yet friendship found them, binding them in ways that defied rank.

Whenever Mò Lián felt caged or restless, she would sneak away to see her. But these visits always came with consequences. Her grandparents never wanted what happened to their daughter to repeat. They chose to raise Mò Lián away from the normal world. Their daughter did, and she became famous; she even married a wealthy man, but what came after was terrible. But Mò Lián always found ways to escape.

Two decades passed, and the kingdom of Huǒyuán beamed above the neighboring kingdoms. The border stood strong; the crown prince had returned from his cultivation and martial training. 

Crown Prince Tiān Jùn stood before Sì Tiān Temple; he completed the monarchy rite with the queen present.

Prince Tiān Jùn's chariot rolled to a gentle halt along the winding hill’s coastal road. He dismounted, standing beside it.

 Sì Tiān is always the best. He took a deep breath, releasing his ethereal energy, and his imposter face faded.

 He looked up at the cloud, placing his hands behind his back.

He looked around, his attention shifting to the horizon and then to the figure that broke it.

A lone figure sat at the water’s edge.

She was small against the vastness of the sea, seated where the tide crept close enough to wet her toes. She did not flinch when the water reached her, nor did she retreat when it withdrew. 

Tiān Jùn squinted,