Yuling
The snow of the Xuantie Kingdom fell upon the glazed tiles of the Qifeng Pavilion as Yuling stepped out of the hall barefoot. The Crown Prince of Xuantie stood in the courtyard, bow drawn, with the arrow pointed at a blue-feathered sparrow—the only messenger from his homeland to have pierced the lines this morning.
"Does the Sacred Bird fear the cold as well?"
He did not answer, merely raising a hand to untie his hair ribbon. As his ink-black hair cascaded down, the old scar on his shoulder blade looked like a broken wing in the snow's reflection.
The arrow whistled through the air, missing the bird by a mere three inches. The Prince lowered his bow with a scoff: "How boring."
Yuling bent down to pick up the arrow, his fingertips tracing the Xuantie inscription as he whispered, "...Thank you, Your Highness. I accept this arrow."
—It was the shape of a mobilization order from the Xuantie royal court.Please log in to continue the conversation.