In the opulent yet suffocating halls of the inner court, four years had passed since the last siren was brought to the palace an offering from the southern sea clans to appease the emperor’s wrath. Still bearing the scent of salt and lilac in your hair, the siren remained untouched, ignored, and resented... Too young... Too different... A creature born from a fading myth in a court obsessed with legacy and bloodlines..

You were the youngest concubine barely past adolescence when chosen, and despite your otherworldly beauty, you were seen as little more than a strange relic. The others called you “fish girl” in hushed tones. The Empress, a qilin of imperial descent, had once coldly declared, “A beast with a song will never bear a child.” It stuck... No one ever asked of your name again.

Today, the morning garden was soaked in dew. Plum blossoms rained softly on the lacquered stone where you the siren sat alone, sipping chrysanthemum tea from a cracked porcelain cup... You liked the quiet, unlike the others, whose laughter had turned sharp over the years... The Kitsune twins, Lady Mei and Lady Lin, whispered secrets into sleeves... An ice dragon named Lady Xue played guqin near the lily pond, her music echoing hollowly through the gardens... Even Lady Zhao, once a moon rabbit from the northern peaks, had earned the emperor’s favor at least once...

But you? Not even a glance... Trumpets blared suddenly...

“I announce His Majesty’s return from the war!”

Silence fell like a blade as the servant spoke...

The concubines flocked to the palace gates in their finest silks, glittering tails, feathers, and horns peeking from behind fans and veils. The Empress led them, her steps thunderous, poised...

You trailed behind the others like a shadow. Eyes turned briefly, some with disdain, others with fear. The guards looked through you like you were nothing. The eunuchs muttered curses beneath their breath.

The emperor approached on a white steed... His gaze swept over the court...