The chains at the wall in the pit were cold against my ankles, the hard stone pressing into my back as the damp air clawed at my skin. A faint dripping sound echoed around me, as if the cave itself were mocking my presence.

My head throbbed from my fall and my arms ached from my fight before. Shrouded in darkness, the person who had trapped me stood before me.

Though I couldn't see his face clearly, the silhouette was unmistakable. The set of his shoulders, the tilt of his head, the faint gleam of the bow and quiver over his shoulders. I knew who he was—the person I had dared to consider a friend, the one I had foolishly trusted. Prince Hong Shao.

"So it was all pretend," I said, my voice trembling, not from fear but from the cold fury bubbling beneath the surface. "It was all fake."

He didn't answer, and the silence was worse than any words he could have spoken. It felt like a blade twisting in my chest, the betrayal cutting deeper than any wound I'd ever suffered.

Darkness closed in, and I lost consciousness.

Three days earlier

The first thing I noticed when Shi Zi Tou appeared at the horizon wasn't its rugged, foreboding shape, rising from the sea like the spine of some ancient, slumbering dragon. It wasn't the dense mist that clung to the island like an ominous cloud, or the eerie silence that seemed to stretch out from its shores. No, the first thing I noticed was the prince's voice—sharp and clear, slicing through the wind like a blade.

"We're making good time," Hong Shao said, his hands steady on the tiller of our boat. The wind filled the sails, and he adjusted them with practiced ease, his muscled arms flexing as he worked, the motion as natural to him as breathing. His black hair, streaked with dyed-blue strands, danced in the breeze, catching the faint light of the setting sun that filtered through the overcast sky.

I leaned over the edge of the boat, glaring at the churning waves. "If by 'good time' you mean hours of nausea and boredom, then sure."

He smirked, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement. That infuriating smirk. It was as though nothing could touch him, no insult could penetrate his armor of arrogance.

"Not much longer now," he said, a note of excitement creeping into his voice.

I turned my attention to the island ahead. Shi Zi Tou. Somewhere on this island, Princess Mooncake of Dim Sum was supposedly being held captive by a monster so strong, the mention of it alone was enough to send shivers down spines. And yet here I was, tasked with rescuing the princess alongside the most insufferable man I'd ever met.

"So, Honey Sesame, first time on a rescue mission?" he asked with a smugness that made me want to throw him overboard.

I rolled my eyes, gripping the side of the boat as it rocked beneath us. I'd asked him not to call me by my full name. That was my first mistake, mentioning it, because since then, he had used it continually. Back home, people just called me Honey, but come to think of it, I might only reserve that privilege for friends.

Prince Hong Shao was not my friend.

"Don't worry," he said, as if I'd confirmed his question with my silence, "I've done this before."

I shot him a sideways glance. "Rescued princesses?"

"No," he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. "But I've fought plenty of monsters."

"I'm sure you've had much practice fighting your ego all the time," I said, my words as sharp as the blade at my side.

His grin widened, but he didn't reply. That was the thing about Hong Shao. He didn't need to win arguments because he always acted as if he already had.

The boat jolted as it scraped against hidden rocks near the shore. Hong Shao leapt onto the sand with an ease that made my stomach turn. His boots barely sank into the wet earth, and he moved with the confidence of someone who thought the world belonged to him. I followed, less gracefully, my boots sinking into the muck with every step. The air was colder here, thick with the smell of salt and something faintly metallic—like blood.

The forest loomed ahead, its gnarled trees stretching skyward like skeletal hands. Their twisted branches formed a canopy that blocked out what little sunlight remained, casting the ground in deep, shifting shadows. The silence was oppressive, broken only by the distant crash of waves and the occasional rustle of unseen creatures.

My hand went to the hilt of my sword. "This place doesn't feel right."

"Is your Congee telling you that?" Hong Shao asked, his tone dripping with condescension as he barely spared me a glance.

I shot him a glare so sharp it could have cut through steel. "No," I snapped. "It's called intuition, something you don't understand since you're too busy flaunting your magical gifts."

Hong Shao, of course, was blessed with an abundance of Congee, his bloodline practically overflowing with it. He'd inherited the imperial energy line from his mother, the Empress, and the aristocratic line from his father, the Duke. Together, they made him not just powerful but one of the most innately skilled Congee-users in the kingdom. Everything came effortlessly to him—his power, his talents, his arrogance.

Me? I carried barely a whisper of Congee, a faint flicker buried so deep within me that it hardly ever showed itself. My parents were almost magicless, simple folk who served in the palace their whole lives, and their parents—well, I never met them. My upbringing as a palace maid had left little room for magical studies or Congee mastery. While others had their talents nurtured with training and education, I was cleaning corridors and serving meals.

The most I'd ever had was the Empress's insistence on basic self-defense classes for all palace workers. Sword fighting had been my refuge, the one thing I could pour myself into with determination and grit. And while my swordplay would never rival the innate grace of those born into privilege, I knew my strength. I didn't need flashy magic or a gilded lineage to prove myself. I was good with my blade, and on this mission, I would prove it.

"Stay close," Hong Shao said, already striding toward the forest's edge.

I rolled my eyes but followed. "You know, giving orders doesn't make you a leader."

"Neither does being a pain in the ass, but here we are," he shot back without looking at me.

The forest swallowed us whole, the shadows closing in like a living thing. The air here was different, heavier. Each step felt like wading through water, and the silence pressed against my ears until every rustle of leaves felt deafening. Stories of Shi Zi Tou crept into my mind—tales of creatures twisted by magic, their forms unnatural and their eyes burning with madness.

Suddenly, the air shifted. The shadows around us seemed to shiver, the oppressive stillness breaking with an almost imperceptible rustle of leaves. The hair on the back of my neck rose as every instinct screamed at me to move, to do something—but what? Next, the sound came, low and guttural at first, building into a shriek so sharp and unnatural that it seemed to scrape against my very soul. We were no longer alone. My heartbeat thundered in my ears, drowning out everything else as the forest itself seemed to recoil, drawing back like a curtain to reveal the horror that had been waiting for us.

A green blur of movement shot out from the underbrush, followed by a screech that made my ears ring. The creature lunged at us, its body sleek and feline but covered in scales that shimmered like an oil slick. Its webbed claws glinted in the dim light as it struck.

"Dumpling," Hong Shao said grimly, raising shards from the stony earth to start launching at the creature. "Nasty little things."

"Little?" I asked, staring at the five-feet tall lizard-cat.

Before Hong Shao could release his no doubt spectacular Congee infused attack, I moved. The Dumpling lunged, its webbed claws striking down with terrifying force, but I was faster. My body moved as if driven by sheer adrenaline, ducking just beneath the deadly swipe. Its claws grazed my arm, slicing through my sleeve and flesh like paper. A sharp sting blossomed into fiery pain, and blood trickled down to my fingers. I gritted my teeth, refusing to let it slow me down.

With a surge of determination, I drove my sword upward in a clean, desperate strike. The blade bit into its scaly hide with a sickening crunch, and green blood sprayed from the wound, leaving fluorescent stains on my mossy green clothes. The smell hit me like a punch to the gut—sharp, metallic, and unnatural. The Dumpling hissed, a guttural sound that made my skin crawl, and recoiled into the shadows. Its glowing eyes burned like twin lanterns in the dark, watching, waiting, before vanishing completely into the forest's oppressive gloom.

I staggered back, clutching my bleeding arm as Hong Shao released the shards slowly back in the earth. "Not bad."

I wanted to snap something like "Not bad? That's all you have to say?" but I wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. The Dumpling might have retreated for now, but it could return at any moment. The fight was far from over.

We pressed on, the encounter leaving me more on edge than I cared to admit. The deeper we went into the forest, the more the air seemed to hum with energy. It was subtle at first, like the faint vibration of a plucked string, but it grew stronger with every step. The island's magic was alive, and it didn't feel welcoming.

That night, we camped under the stars. Or rather, under the faint glow of the sky barely visible through the canopy. Hong Shao effortlessly lit a fire with Congee, the energy crackling at his fingertips as though it were eager to obey him. The flames danced between us, casting flickering shadows on his face. He didn't mention my earlier fight with the Dumpling, and I didn't care enough to bring it up.

My black hair that I had knotted in two buns had come partly loose during the day, but I didn't bother rearranging them. I let the strands fall beside me as I lay on my back, staring at the slivers of sky above. The stars seemed dimmer here, as if the island's magic dulled even their light.

My thoughts were restless, turning over the events of the day and the mission ahead. Rescuing Princess Mooncake was supposed to be straightforward, but nothing about this place felt straightforward. The island's magic gnawed at the edges of my mind, a constant, insidious presence.

Somewhere in the distance, a howl echoed through the forest, low and mournful. I tightened my grip on the hilt of my sword, my body tensing instinctively.

"Relax," Hong Shao said, his voice soft but carrying an edge of amusement. "It's just the wind."

"If that's the wind, I'm a Dumpling," I muttered, but I let my muscles relax slightly.

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "You're too tense. It'll get you killed."

"And you're too smug. That'll get you killed," I shot back.

For once, he didn't reply, and the silence stretched between us. The fire crackled, filling the void with its soft, steady rhythm. I closed my eyes, trying to push away the unease that clung to me like a second skin. But even as sleep crept in, the hum of the island's magic remained, a constant reminder that we were far from safe.

Honey Sesame:

Prince Hong Shao: