The story of the Dragon and Phoenix is a myth, a tale constructed by our wildest imaginations.
Unless the tale isn't fiction.
It is said that every generation, fate bestows its imprint into the blood of two vessels replenished with new life, still innocent of the world.
Upon their birth, they are the game pieces, their paths, the board, and fate; it's only player.
~
One became an Emperor.
He followed a path of trials and tribulations, war, and bloodshed. His sovereignty was one seized by travail force. His victims were slaughtered to their grave, never to be spoken of again. The cost of power was only his humanity and name, both stained in blood.
The other stayed innocent.
She followed a path of a simple, conservative life. She was content, happy, and yet, she possessed a heart brimming with hopes and dreams she dared not speak, a mind filled with intelligence she dared not reveal, and eyes full of tears she could not let fall.
So unlike, and yet, fate holds the key to their parallel destiny.
And so, it isn't a surprise for the heavens when she is chosen, chosen for a harem filled with cunning and bitter women skilled in the art of despicable scheming. Chosen for an Emperor, whose very name renders shivers down one's spine and who's sinful deeds haunt the empire's dreams.
She has no choice. She must go.
But what happens when she catches the eye of that very Emperor?
After all, the Dragon is nothing without his Phoenix.