Mier_Jean

Once every thousand years, the Blood Moon and the Snow Moon rise — and with them, heirs are touched by forbidden magic.
In a kingdom ruled by power, fate chose two souls born beneath the opposing moons.
Wangyeon, the cold and powerful illegitimate son of a ruthless king, was born under the Blood Moon. Marked by dark energy and haunted by a crown he never wanted, he is feared more than respected… and trusted by no one but the older brother he quietly adores.

Jang Mi, a hidden girl raised in the shadows of a sacred temple, was born beneath the Snow Moon — the feminine, pure opposite of Wangyeon’s cursed power. After witnessing her family’s massacre, she is taken in by a secretive monk and trained in secret to wield the ancient energy flowing through her blood.

As secrets fester in the royal court and forbidden magic awakens, the kingdom of Haneulguk teeters on the edge of war. Wanghain, the beloved elder prince, masks his hunger for the throne with a gentle smile — even as he delves deeper into black magic that threatens to consume his soul.

When prophecy, power, and betrayal entwine their destinies, Wangyeon and Jang Mi must choose: will they destroy each other… or save a kingdom fated to fall?

Match-made by our moons

The halls of the Golden Throne dripped with unease. Servants moved quickly but quietly and warily. Guards gripped their spears a little tighter. No one dared to speak too loudly, not after what they had seen, not after feeling the unnatural chill of when the young prince knelt beneath the red sky.

A power like that… it wasn't human. It wasn't natural and it wasn't granted to just anyone.

The Crown prince chambers remained very solemn but not calming— at all.

The scent of sandalwood and bitter herbs filled the air. Queen Ba Feng stood before a gilded mirror with her hands resting lightly on her silk-wrapped waist, though her eyes were fixed far beyond her own reflection.

Her voice was like velvet laced with venom.

"He did not even flinch." She said in a despicable tone.

A boy's voice replied calmly, "He never does."

Wanghain leaned casually against the window frame, still dressed in the blue robes he wore for the ceremony. Though he was burning with rage inside at the fact that he should be wearing a red robe that was meant for a crown prince, a smile still managed to curve onhis lips, but his fingers drummed an anxious rhythm against the wood.

"They'll all see it soon — that thing is not your brother. It's a weapon wearing a crown."

"He calls me hyungnim," Wanghain said lightly. "He trusts me. Let him."

The Queen stepped forward and raised his chin gently with her fingers.

"Wangyeon may wear the crown today, but you — you were born for the throne. Not him. We will take it back, Hain-ah. And when we do, you will make this kingdom ours again." She said. "If he was made the crown prince just because some red moon made him strong, then we'll have to make you stronger no matter what it takes —strength is all the king sees."

Wanghain did not reply. But his gaze flicked to the red smear still lingering along the horizon.

And something cold flickered in his eyes.

Atop the high northern tower, Min Ah stood beside her father, the Prime Minister. Her elegant robes fluttered in the evening wind, and her long blonde hair danced like fireflies in the night.

Below, the royal courtyard slowly emptied.

"So that's the boy everyone fears," she said with a grim smile.

Her father, a tall man with sharp features and watchful eyes, grunted.

"He is dangerous. But power has always been dangerous." He said.

"He didn't even look at anyone," she noted. "Not even me."

The Prime Minister gave her a sidelong glance.

"Do not try to charm him, Min Ah. This marriage is a political necessity, not a courtship and that's why you know about it even at your age little girl."

"Father. I never try to charm anyone and I'm not a little girl'

The prince sat in silence, cross-legged on a stone mat, eyes closed in deep focus. A candle burned low beside him, its flame quivering as if in fear.

From the center of his palm, red mist coiled upward like smoke from a dying fire.

His breathing was steady, but the energy pulsing from his body was not.

The Blood Moon energy — always there, always awake — was hungry.

The shadows around him shuddered. He had nothing but fear in his eyes.

Wangyeon exhaled slowly and reached for the object lying across his lap: a blade of blackened steel, its edge sharp enough to split light. He had forged it in secret, without telling anyone — not even Wanghain.

When he had first touched it, it had spoken to him. Or perhaps it had screamed.

He did not know why the power came so easily. Or why, even now, it felt like it wanted to consume him.

"Hyungnim says I must not be afraid," he whispered to the blade.

Chapter Two: Whispers In The Court