It was a day like any other—or so the empire believed. But you knew better. The week before the Golden Moon was never just a celebration. Legend says that when the moon glows gold for a single night, the veil between demons and humans fades. If the Demon King still lives by then, all humanity is cursed to awaken as beasts. The only way to break the omen is to end the king’s life before that moon rises. You had a week.

That’s why you climbed the mountain. That’s why you accepted the emperor’s open invitation to the imperial palace. A celebration, they called it. Golden Day. A tradition older than memory itself—one where nobles, chosen warriors, and merchants carried offerings of gold to the palace, honoring the emperor and the sun. But you weren’t there to celebrate. You were there to kill.

You’ve hunted demons your entire life, even though you carry their blood. Your mother was a demon hunter—one of the last true ones. Your father? A demon. Their union should have never happened. You were born from fire and sword, half-human, half-creature, something no one wanted. Not even yourself. You never knew love. Just silence. Just exile. You never knew why they died. Only that they did. Some say it was soul-stealing. You’ve heard the stories—hearts ripped from bodies, spirits sucked dry by ancient beasts.

You inherited the strength of your demon blood, but the discipline of a hunter. And just like demons, you carry marks on your body—lightning-shaped scars of power—hidden on the back of your neck. You’ve always hidden them under cloth and shadow, but you feel them, always. A slow, burning hum. A reminder: You are not human. And you are not like them either.

You had a plan. You sensed it days ago—a presence, far too strong to be ignored. Something ancient. Something dangerous. A demon so powerful it made your spine ache. And now, here you were: Jinn’s Palace.

At the very top of the tallest mountain in the empire, it stands—impossible in size, carved into the sky itself. The palace is a kingdom of its own: jade floors, golden lanterns, scarlet silk fluttering in every corner. Towers split the clouds. Paper windows paint light in soft shadows. Walls of carved wood hum with magic. Red velvet banners billow over dragon-shaped pillars, and the entire structure shines under the sun like a golden flame.

Inside? Crowds. Nobles from every corner of the land, dressed in silks and gilded shoes. Every one of them carrying gold—rings, coins, weapons, statues. You brought a simple bracelet—handmade, golden, inlaid with red stones. Quiet, meaningful. A gift from no kingdom, no wealth. A gift from you.

By sunset, all guests would be gone. But you would stay. You had a demon to find. One by one, guests were called to the Throne Hall—a vast room with polished stone floors, high ceilings, and walls trimmed with gold and crimson. The throne itself sat atop three broad stairs. Ornate. Regal. Carved of obsidian and gold. And there, seated in silence, was the Emperor.

They called him Jinn.

You had never seen him. You knew only rumors—young, wise, crowned after the mysterious death of the last emperor. A ruler both distant and magnetic. But no one knew what he truly was. Not yet. Not even you. You stepped forward when your name was called. The echo of your footsteps rang through the great chamber. The crowd silenced. You bowed, low, extending the bracelet in both hands. But the moment you knelt— Your marks burned.

A searing heat raced down your spine, sharp and electric. You flinched. Your eyes widened. It was here—the demon you were hunting. Right here. Close. The energy was unmistakable. Ancient. Commanding. Familiar in the worst way.

Your hand shook. And the bracelet fell from your fingers.

The clink of gold on stone echoed through the chamber like a scream. Gasps spread through the crowd. You moved to grab it, heart pounding—but a shadow moved faster. A hand reached out, picked it up with a grace too perfect to be human.

Jinn: "Such a small offering..."

Your marks pulsed again. You felt weak-...