Through the enchanted trees of a mystical forest once existed a kingdom.
Now, I'm sure you're thinking, "Well duh."
Well, duh.
This forest was the kind where plants glimmered bizarre colours, and whispered wishes danced along the dusty paths. Like wisps, except each had a tale to tell, and it would be told the closer one travelled through that lively forest.
It was a guide, leading them to the city of Zhonglai's great capital, Jianlai.
Great. Backstory! That's a preamble for you, Dear Traveller. Ugh!
Complaining aside, this city was still immaculate. No blubbering preamble, or warning of a prologue, could ever describe or even justify just how magnificent Jianlai was.
The moment one witnessed the sun-casted gates open, would be their first peek into paradise.
Past the grand entrance, and along the ornate-coated paths, was a city grander than no other.
The streets bustled daily with the pluck of a lute. It paired nicely with the hymm of a poem, often recited by beautiful women.
At night, these very songs would soften, harmonizing in tune with the unhurried vibration of a zither.
To each strum, the low murmur would pass all the whispering voices, and through the warm light of each passing lantern.
Each swing shimmered against the golden streets, directing the traveller further and further into this magical city.
In Jianlai, it never once felt frigid, and at all points of the day happiness engulfed it large. People said it often felt like home, even to newcomers form lands faraway.
These people were graciously cared for—as long as they stood behind those splendidly massive walls, their safety and time would always be assured.
That was the promise of Jianlai.
Truly, it was a land boundless in wealth as much as it was beauty. There was no shortage of opportunities, spanning from its vast and sophisticated trading system to the beauties that populated it aplenty.
And most importantly…standing in the heart of that great city stood the reason each citizen could flourish.
The royal family of the Shan Dynasty and the emperor who willfully granted every of his people their wish. He was admired, from the seat of the throne to the edge of the city walls.
No one ever questioned the emperor—they simply trusted him. That trust would certainly deliver time and time again.
Really? Questioning him would earn anyone a laugh, straight in their face.
And the utter pride of not only the emperor or the empress was their son. The one who held every value of that great city in the way, standing at the centre of the Shan family's pride.
And he'd clutch it tighter than a merchant would his pearls.
This prince, described by the people as insanely handsome, was said to illuminate brighter than any gold statue in the kingdom, or any trek through the forest.
He was talented in swordsmanship, said to have a way of handling a sword better than most dancers could dance on the streets of Jianlai. And if it wasn't his swordsmanship, it was the smile of determination that crossed his face—spreading large.
A social force amongst men and women, rivalling even his father. Someone who had the build of a hero, tall and slender, but eyes as dark as the night sky, with a passion that twinkled like stars.
Yup, no fairytale nor preamble could survive without a dashingly determined prince at the forefront.
The Shan family was both proud and remarkably generous; as told by their people.
So, when they birthed a son who harboured all these qualities? The city rejoiced for seven days and seven nights.
They graced the walkways with silver, promised endless days of sunshine, and assured that never once should the people of this kingdom go hungry.
It was absolutely the best place to be at the time!
In fact, many of Jianlai's citizens vouched that its good fortune was by the grace of the gods, rewarding the prince for all his future deeds and proud stature.
As the next Son of Heaven, people often said he was delivered straight from Heaven itself.
Mothers gushed at how this was the ideal portrait of a well-behaved, charismatic son.
And not only this, but he was also favoured by many women for having a face only blessed by the heavens—not even his father could contend.
To this, the prince became a beacon of benevolence, loved by many who roamed the golden paths of the Jianlai's core, Chuhen Palace. So much so that many fathers within the kingdom walls would beg the emperor to take their daughters in as the prince's consorts.
But enough of glazing the prince; he doesn't, and will NEVER, need any more of it. His duty wasn't to fulfil the wishes of mothers, or take on the daughters of fathers.
His sole duty was to continue the Shan legacy painted red, as per the emperor's wish.
This was a legacy utterly despised by the prince, for reasons unknown. Of course, this prince would continue to reject each and every attempt his father would make, mentioning that his time wasn't to be wasted on "useless faces."
He was an exterior as hardened as the glaciers of the northern region, and far too stubborn to break loose.
The emperor didn't know what to make of this situation, but like father, like son, he too was stubborn. He made the decision to go against his son's wishes, and thus was the first crack in a musical sung specifically.
And still, each role was played with the utmost care.
But not all was what it seemed on the surface, and not all stories are told within a single line.
With time, this carefully constructed image would crumble. When it came to the women, If there was even a hair loose, or a blemish, the women would immediately be turned away by the prince's judging eye.
Utterly destroyed by his harsh and cold words.
When it came to spending his time with those less fortunate, the prince would scoff, prioritizing his training above charity.
In his words, "Jianlai wasn't a place for charitable people."
This continued for months, and with each attempt form the emperor, the wedge between father and son would grow. Enough for the entire city to notice and quietly discuss, noticing the change in atmosphere.
Then one day, Jianlai's pride all collapsed in the sudden death of the emperor.
To the people's anguish, the emperor was said to have been killed amid a riot.
No citizen knew why this beloved emperor was targeted, they never saw it, and they never would. All of it was buried under years of corruption without any direction to point their fingers in.
Sitting at the forefront of this catastrophe was the young prince, taking the throne at only nineteen. Thus, what was already crumbling finally fell apart at his hands.
The prince was unable to manage the mess his father had left behind and wallowed under the expectations set by a cold-hearted beast dressed in mammals' skin.
And what he and the citizens would soon come to realize was a small, yet significant detail: happiness was only ever an illusion first illustrated by the late emperor, and adopted by the successor.
But this time, it was parented chaotically.
For one to lather an entire capital in gold, they first had to acquire that gold. Which was no simple task, and it involved methods better left to one's imagination.
To achieve the greatness that was already tattered, the young prince cranked up his father's strategy and relentlessly taxed the surrounding regions.
When the people tried to rebel or argue, he'd simply watch them die. If they wouldn't die, he would kill them.
That was the playbook offered to this prince under his father's teaching, opened wide for the entire capital to read for the very first time.
Years and years of this treachery would pass, gradually revealing the dark truths that lay under the silver and gold that built Jianlai.
Plight, pillage, famine—there was no shortage of misfortune. The citizens of Jianlai could no longer live the life they once knew, and the golden sun that once graced the sky was shrouded in a bitter winter.
The gods had abandoned Jianlai.
And under the hand of the prince would the era of Shan fall to ruins in the span of a single day. In retribution for defying heaven's decree, Jianlai would be buried under the curse of a lone, jester of a god.
This god gifted artifacts known as relics to each region, designed to keep them safe from the curse ever reaching their doorstep. It was his way of laughing at this fallen prince, for all that was his cruelty returned.
Thus, what was once known all over Zhonglai for its abundance and prosperity faded in a single night.
The entire city fell into a desolate winter, and Chuhen Palace, its people, and the once proud legacy forever withered into the world of nonexistence.
A whisper, no louder than the wind that howled through the once brightened forest.
Two hundred years had long since passed, and any trace of this once lavish kingdom had entirely faded from anyone's memory. All that remains are the remnants of a ghastly forest and the murmurs of a land forgotten in time.
End of prologue.