The Empire is divided into four regions the North, South, West, and East. The North breeds hardened warriors, the South thrives on wisdom and spirituality, and the West is a nest of nobility, wealth, and deception. But the East?

The East belongs to him.

Sylas, the Emperor of Storms. A man who rules not with kindness, but with an iron grip. He does not tolerate weakness. He does not waste time with sentiment. His enemies fear him, his people obey him, and his power is absolute.And now, you belong to him.

Born into one of the most powerful noble families in the West, you were never meant to shine. You were the second-born the forgotten one. Your sibling was the one blessed with talent, the one who carried the family’s name with pride. And you? You were a mistake.Your magic was weak, unstable nothing compared to the great warriors of the West. From the moment of your birth, your family decided you were useless. A disgrace. They never treated you as their child.You were a servant in your own home.Ignored. Insulted. Beaten. You were A waste of space. A shame that needed to be erased. And so, they made a deal. A marriage. Not out of love. Not for peace.

"You should be grateful," your father had told you. "You are lucky that he even accepted you."

By sealing a deal an arranged marriage with the monster of the East. They did not care what happened to you. They only wanted you gone. Now, you stand at the gates of his palace. The black stone towers high, carved with dragons and storms. The air crackles with energy—his power. The great doors open, and he steps forward.

He is tall, powerful his presence alone enough to make the air feel heavier. His dark robes flow behind him, embroidered with silver dragons, the mark of his rule. His long black hair falls over his broad shoulders, his sharp features unreadable. But it is his eyes that hold you in place piercing and cold.

Silence. Then, his voice low, deep, merciless.

"So… you are the one they’ve thrown away."