Departure

Seven winters had passed since the night the queen's life was claimed by childbirth.

The palace had changed in that time-its halls still glimmered with gold, its gardens still bloomed with jade-green pines and winter plum blossoms-but to those who remembered, the air carried a silence that had never left. The Queen's laughter had once been like warm spring rain; now, her absence was a chill the sun could not melt.

For Feiye, the younger princess, that absence was more than a memory-it was a weight. Her first breath had been the queen's last.

The court remembered, too. They did not speak it aloud, but when their eyes slid over Feiye, there was often a flicker-pity, or discomfort, or something like blame. She was not shunned, but neither was she celebrated. The servants bowed respectfully to her, yet their voices were livelier when addressing her elder siblings.

There were three royal children: Jiang Renxian, Xiaye, and Feiye. Jiang Renxian, the crown prince, had been sent away at sixteen to train in the royal guard's warrior halls-hardened discipline, battlefield strategy, and the weight of leadership. He wrote letters home when duty allowed, brief and formal, but the few times he returned, his visits carried a warmth that only his sisters saw. Xiaye adored him. Feiye clung to his rare moments of kindness like a lantern in fog.

When spiritual energy flared within Xiaye, the eldest daughter, the palace was alight with whispers: A true cultivator, born of royal blood. Such a gift was rare, precious, and dangerous if not guided.

The King summoned his daughters to the audience hall. The chamber was vast, lit by rows of bronze braziers and flanked by towering pillars carved with dragons.

Xiaye knelt first, her robe shimmering with the pale gold of her rank. Feiye followed, her simpler silk pooling quietly around her.

The King's gaze lingered on Xiaye. "Your gift cannot be wasted. The Yunxian Clan has agreed to take you as a disciple. Their guidance will shape you into a true cultivator."

A smile lit Xiaye's face, but it dimmed almost instantly. She turned her head toward her sister. Doubts washed over her. Maybe going to a different clan away from her sister was not a great idea.

"I'm sorry, Father, but I have to decline your offer," she stated her eyes down on the exclusive floor of the court. She could feel all of the elders' eyes on her.

Murmurs rose from the court of her defiance. Why would the first princess refuse such a great offer?

"Why don't you want to join Yunxian? Is it not fit for you?" A man, one of her father's right hand man asked.

"Please pardon me if what I spoke offends anyone, it's not my intention," she gazed up at her father, her hands forward crossed on each other.

"Then what disheartens you, my child?" The king asked concern in his voice.

She glanced at the figure beside her that had not uttered a word since their entrance. She then said,"I can not depart and leave my younger sister here all alone."

"She will be in the palace," one Elder protested, looking the second princess. Her demeanour was a contrast to the crown princess. It was like comparing the heavens and the earth!!!

"If I leave her here, Father, she will be alone."

The words hung in the air.

Feiye lowered her eyes. She did not want to be the reason her sister hesitated, yet the warmth in Xiaye's voice tugged at something deep within her chest.

The King's jaw tightened. He thought of Jiang Renxian-his son was already being forged into a warrior, far from the palace. If both daughters left, the royal court would be emptier still. But when he looked at Feiye, he saw the queen. The curve of her cheek, the way her lashes lowered when she avoided his gaze-it was like staring at a memory.

And memories hurt.

"Very well," he said finally, his voice even. "You will go together."

Two days later, Jiang Renxian returned unexpectedly, his armour dusted with the frost of early winter. Word of his sisters' departure had reached him, and he had ridden through the night to see them off.

"You're both too young to be leaving Father's roof," he said, his voice carrying the sternness of his training. But then he smiled faintly, the expression softening his sharp features. "Xiaye, look after Feiye. And Feiye..." He reached out, resting a gloved hand on her head. "Stay out of trouble. You have a talent for finding it even when you're not trying."

Feiye's lips curved in the smallest smile. "I'll try, Brother."

He hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied her. "And if anyone treats you poorly, clan or not-you tell me."

Xiaye rolled her eyes. "Renxian, you can't exactly storm the Yunxian gates for a quarrel."

"I can try," he said, but his eyes remained on Feiye a moment longer before he turned away.

Morning came cold and pale. The palace courtyard was lined with guards in crimson armour, their breath misting in the air. Two white horses stood saddled, their manes braided with gold thread.

The sisters emerged from the inner halls, cloaks billowing slightly. Xiaye's eyes were bright, scanning the horizon with anticipation. Feiye's were downcast, her fingers gripping the edge of her cloak.

Jiang Renxian stood beside the King, his expression unreadable. As they approached, he clasped Xiaye's hand firmly, then drew Feiye into a quick, fierce embrace. No words-just the press of a promise.

They crossed the great gates-and the wind changed.

It came suddenly, curling around Feiye like a ribbon of cool silk. Her hair lifted gently, strands dancing as though stirred by unseen hands. She stilled, her eyes half-closing, and for a heartbeat, it felt like the wind was whispering.

The guards shifted uneasily, looking around, but they felt no breeze. Only the banners above snapped sharply in the air, as if in salute.

At the base of the palace steps stood Elder Mo of the Yunxian Clan-a man with hair, the colour of frost, his robe, green of pine forests. His eyes were sharp and assessing as he studied the approaching pair.

When they fell on Xiaye, he gave a small approving nod. But when his gaze shifted to Feiye, something in his expression faltered. Surprise flickered there, then a flash of wariness, before it smoothed into polite indifference.

"Come, young ones," Elder Mo said, his voice steady. But his eyes lingered on Feiye a fraction longer than they should have-as though trying to place a face from an old dream.

They rode through the morning mist, the palace growing smaller behind them. Xiaye spoke often, pointing out the landmarks they passed, but Feiye listened more to the sounds-the creak of saddles, the crunch of hooves on frost, the faint rustle of trees along the road.

Once, a red kite soared above them, circling slowly. Feiye watched it until it vanished into the clouds.

"What are you thinking about?" Xiaye asked.

"That it's watching us," Feiye murmured.

Xiaye laughed. "You imagine too much."

But Elder Mo, riding ahead, glanced briefly at the sky before looking forward again, his expression unreadable.

As they reached the mountain path leading to the Yunxian gates, Feiye turned in her saddle to look back one last time. Far in the distance, the palace shimmered faintly in the winter sun.

On the highest balcony, the King and Renxian stood side by side. Neither spoke. The jade hairpin of the late queen glinted faintly in the King's hand as the two men watched the sisters vanish into the mist.

---

And so, the sisters began their journey.

One, with the destined glow of a cultivator.

The other, wrapped in a mystery older than the kingdom itself-waiting for the season when it awakened.

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