CHAPTER 1 - THE LOTUS'S CURSE

The village of Taiyuan was waking, but beneath the quiet hum of morning, whispers lingered. Whispers of an old curse, ancient and twisted, a story woven into the shadows of dawn. And within these shadows, in the servant quarters of the Taiyuan Palace, Fuyao stirred, unaware of the destiny already etched upon her fate.

Fuyao had lived her whole life as a servant, her name one of insignificance, her days wrapped in the monotonous rhythm of orders and obedience. She was known for her stubbornness, her quiet rebellion, and a peculiar strength that belied her appearance. She moved through the palace with a fierceness that, to anyone else, seemed out of place for a servant. To her, though, it was a mere necessity, a shield she had crafted to survive in a world that never truly belonged to her.

But something was different about today.

She felt it before she opened her eyes, a tingling prickle at the base of her spine, a deep stirring within her bones. A strange energy, old and powerful, pulled at her heart, calling her from the depths of sleep. Fuyao rose, rubbing her eyes, brushing back the loose strands of dark hair clinging to her face. Her room was small and unadorned, but this morning, everything seemed sharper, more alive, as though the walls themselves were humming with secrets.

The village outside was shrouded in a mist that clung to the hills and twisted between the trees like silent phantoms. In the distance, the palace walls rose against the gray sky, an imposing fortress against the wild beauty of Taiyuan’s landscape. Servants hustled around her, preparing for the day’s work, but the air felt thick, laden with a tension that Fuyao couldn’t place.

"Fuyao! Get up!" A voice broke through her thoughts, sharp and familiar. Li’er, her closest friend—and perhaps her only friend—stood in the doorway, hands on her hips, a faint smile quirking her lips. Li’er was everything Fuyao wasn’t—lighthearted, quick to laugh, and ever cautious, where Fuyao was bold and reckless. Still, their friendship had blossomed amidst the grim confines of the palace, a fragile bloom that had survived in the cracks of duty and hardship.

“Look at you, lost in thought. You’re going to get yourself in trouble one of these days,” Li’er said, her voice tinged with mock reproach.

Fuyao grinned, brushing off the strange feeling that had settled in her chest. “And what else is new?” She stood and stretched, her limbs taut and lean, her body honed from years of labor. But the same thought lingered in her mind: today was different.

They made their way to the palace’s inner grounds, where a tapestry of gardens and ponds lay spread beneath the rising sun. It was a rare beauty, one that servants like them usually only saw from a distance. But today, they were called to tend to the noble’s gardens, trimming the delicate shrubs and sweeping fallen petals that dotted the paths like whispers of a forgotten spring.

As Fuyao knelt to gather the scattered lotus petals, she felt a shiver run through her fingers. She stopped, staring at the deep pink of the petals, their vibrant color strangely mesmerizing. They seemed to pulse, as if with a heartbeat of their own. Then, just as suddenly, the pulse faded, leaving her with a deep, unsettling feeling.

She looked up, searching for answers in the faces of the others, but no one seemed to notice the strangeness in the air. Only the palace’s stone walls loomed above them, silent and indifferent, as they had for centuries.

Fuyao turned back to her task, but her mind wandered. Her mother had once told her stories about the lotus flowers—their beauty, their purity, and the power they held. A flower that grew from mud but emerged pristine, untouched by the darkness of its origins. It was a symbol of resilience, of overcoming, and somehow, Fuyao felt a strange kinship with it.

A soft breeze stirred, and with it came a whisper—her name, carried like a secret through the morning air.

She froze.

“Did you hear that?” she asked, turning to Li’er, but Li’er was busy humming to herself, her gaze fixed on the flowers.

Fuyao’s heart pounded. She rose, following the sound as it beckoned her deeper into the garden, away from the others. The path twisted and turned, leading her to the edge of a small, secluded pond. Lotus flowers floated on the surface, their petals a soft blush against the green waters.

And there, on the bank, lay a single lotus blossom, larger and more vibrant than any she had ever seen. It seemed to glow, casting a faint light that was at once eerie and beautiful.

Compelled, she knelt beside it, her hand reaching out, fingers trembling as they brushed the petals. In that moment, a surge of energy shot through her, filling her with a warmth that bordered on pain. She gasped, her vision blurring as images flashed before her—visions of vast kingdoms, of warriors in battle, of a prince with a face half-hidden in shadow.

The world tilted, and she stumbled, clutching her head as the visions receded, leaving only a lingering echo of words she did not understand.

“Fuyao!”

She snapped back to reality, the grip of the visions loosening as she saw Li’er rushing toward her, her face pale.

“What… what happened to you? Are you all right?” Li’er’s voice was tinged with fear, her eyes darting to the lotus at Fuyao’s feet.

Fuyao managed a nod, though her mind was still reeling. “I’m… I’m fine,” she whispered, though she knew nothing was fine. She felt different, as though a door had opened within her, revealing a darkness and a power she did not know she possessed.

As they returned to their tasks, Fuyao’s heart pounded with questions, with a strange, thrilling fear. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something had awakened within her, something ancient, something beyond the walls of the Taiyuan Palace.

And somewhere deep within, a destiny older than time itself was beginning to stir.

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