Prelude 2Advent of the Daughters

The world of Shen teetered on the edge of unraveling. As its elemental harmony dwindled, the Celestial Tower’s light dimmed, and the five great continents faltering. The coming of the endless night prepared to devour them all. Yet, in this silence, something stirred: the faintest tremor of courage, the whisper of destiny not yet written. It was here, as the last echoes of the old world fade, that the story continues—where the pages left unfinished become an invitation for heroes to rise, and for the impossible to take root once more.

Across the five continents of Shen, the Celestial Princesses arrived at the same time, each one a manifestation of their element’s purest essence, each one a beacon of hope in the gathering darkness.

The Celestial Princesses appear as the shining paragons of the five elements, each radiating the purest hue of their domain: the Wood Princess shimmers in flowing azure, the Fire Princess blazes in vibrant red, the Earth Princess glows with golden yellow, the Golden Princess gleams in platinum white, and the Water Princess shone in deep, obsidian black. Their celestial robes ripple and shift like nebulae, woven with intricate patterns that echo astral motifs—blossoms, waves, mountains, stars, and ripples—each thread glinting with the light of distant constellations.

Their bodies are ethereal, flowing and luminous, as if made from the very fabric of the starlight and cosmic mist. Upon their faces, delicate tiny star dusts glimmer like freckles, hinting at the vastness of the heavens within them. Their hair, long and weightless, drifts behind them in a cascade of elemental colour, threaded with silver and gold, and crowned with celestial adornments that mark their divinity.

Each Princess moved in the sky with a grace that defied gravity, their presence both awe and comforting, as if the cosmos itself bends gently around them. They released their lights together, five stars breaking through the endless night, the brilliance carried their voices in a melody that stirred all the souls in the world. Then, like shooting stars, each of them flew down to five corners of the world.

In the Verdant East, where the sacred springs had turned black and were dragging villagers and children beneath their inky pull, the very air began to shimmer with azure light. From the depths of the ancient forests, a figure emerged—not walking, but flowing like a gentle breeze made visible. The Wood Princess materialised from the cascade of blue and azure petals circling a magical orb, her form as delicate as morning mist yet as unyielding as the ancient oaks. The orb dove into the sickened springs, it washed away the taint with its light, and freed the drowning villagers back to the surface. With her breath, she healed and revived the ancient forest and roots weaved living bridges across the shadowed water, vines lifting the trapped to safety while flowers bloomed beneath her steps.

Her eyes held the warmth of first spring as she slowly picked up a crying baby, her arms cradled and soothed, and she quietly handed the now sleeping baby back to the parents. The villager thanked the Princess in tears of joy, she simply returned with a beautiful smile, reassuring them life still has a place to take root. Without delay, the Wood Princess turned to face in the direction of the Tower, her form vanished again into petals circling the orb, and sped towards the heart of the darkened skies.

In the South, where flames consumed the jungle and villagers cowered in their burning huts, the very fire itself began to dance with a new rhythm. The Fire Princess emerged from the heart of the inferno, her form wreathed in flames that did not burn but instead radiated warmth like the controlled heat of summer. She floated—borne by two wind wheels turning beneath her feet—while twin fire wheels spun above her wrists, and a great halo-wheel revolved behind her like a blazing throne. At her gesture, the halo-wheel drank the wildfire’s breath, siphoning heat and smoke; the wrist wheels spun to cleave and scatter hurtling volcanic bombs into harmless sparks; and beneath her, the foot wheels skimmed rivers of fire into a protective ring that bowed away from the huts in reverence.

The villagers, their faces streaked with soot and tears, looked up in wonder as the Fire Princess moved among them, her smile bringing comfort to their terrified hearts. She waved farewell to the villagers, her eyes sparkling with controlled passion, then turned toward the dark clouds gathering over the Tower. As she flew toward Móyuān, the entire forest of fire followed in her wake, trailing behind her like a comet’s tail of pure, controlled parade.

In the mountainous West, where the monk lay buried beneath the avalanche, golden light began to cut through the darkness of the fallen boulders. The Golden Princess materialized with a sound like sweet bells ringing in harmony, her form radiating light that held no wrongs in the world, her persona shining brighter than the sun itself. Her golden swords hummed through the air, cutting through the boulders with precision, shattering the rocks that had trapped the monks.

The monks looked up in relief and joy—their five hundred year prophecy answered. Their eyes meeting the Golden Princess’s brilliant smile that seemed to illuminate even the darkest corners the caved in monestary. She pointed behind them, and they turned to see their millenia of history—stone tablets, silk scrolls, sculptures, still intact and untouched. Her giggle chimed through the halls and glowing with an inner radiance that pulsed with hope. As the young monks looked back at the Golden Princess, they saw her floating high up with her twelve humming swords orbiting around her like a constellation of pure light. She waved back playfully, and then without delay, zapped toward Móyuān with the speed of lightning, leaving behind a trail of sparkle.

In the Northern oceans, where people held each other close in their sinking boats, the wild sea suddenly began to calm as if touched by divine calmness. A few moments later, the waves miraculously flattened like the surface of a vast mirror, and they saw the Water Princess walking across the water’s surface—a tall mirror following behind her glimmering like a halo, her eyes half closed, and floating steps barely touching the water. The raging blizzard refused to be complacent, then like a giant serpent, it launched itself desperately toward her and the screaming people. The Water Princess’ mirror swiftly moved between them, and the storm found itself colliding with a wall of light, where an identical storm rushed out of the reflection, and swallowed the original with its own force. Two storms ensnaring each other in a tight embrace that only got tighter as the orignal struggled, until its own brutish force eventually disintegrated itself into a gentle breeze.

The people rescued, faces wet with tears of gratitude, their teardrops miraculously floating still in the air. The Water Princess smiled back with calm assurance, she gestured them to her mirror to reveal a beach in the reflection. The people looked back and cried with rejoice—they have made it to shore. As they turned to thank the Water Princesses, they saw her already stepping into her mirror and vanished together, leaving behind only the gentle lapping of waves against the shore.

In the Heartland, where the Emperor watched in terror as his army collapsed and the Tower began to crack, the very earth began to tremble with a new rhythm. The Earth Princess emerged from the ground itself, her tall form as steady as the mountains. The Emperor looked up at her eyes that held the strength of countless generations, and she nodded with a stoic expression that seemed to say, “All will be well.”

As thousands of troops retreated in terror from Móyuān’s advance, the Earth Princess walked forward with firm, measured steps, each footfall causing the ground to tremble with purpose. When the Tower cracked and gigantic debris came crashing down toward her, she raised her shield—not in defense, but in defiance. The debris shattered against her indestructible wave, saving the soldiers from being crushed, and she simply continued walking forward. Her determination as unbreakable as the earth itself.

The Earth Princess stood before Móyuān, her shield raised and her stance unyielding, and in that moment, the other four Princesses arrived to join her. The Wood Princess materialized in a swirl of petals, her form taking shape from the azure mist that had gathered overhead. The Fire Princess landed like a meteor, trailing flames that danced around her in perfect harmony. The Golden Princess zapped into position with her twelve swords orbiting around her like a shining constellation. The Water Princess’s mirror appeared first, shimmering with reflected starlight, and she stepped out of it with the grace of one who had walked the depths of the ocean.

Móyuān, sensing the presence of the Five Princesses, turned its massive porous form to face them, each pore like eerie eyes that snarled at the only beings that dared to stand before it. With a roar that seemed to echo through the very fabric of reality, it let out a terrible howl that ripped through the world and cracked the roof of the sky.

But the Five Celestial Princesses still stood firm, their forms radiating with the pure essence of their elements, their presence a beacon of hope in the darkness. The light about them folded and their celestial robes unfurled into battle—grand armour instantly blooming into being: not to hide their strength, but to declare it—sleek, ceremonial, and resolute.

Around the Wood Princess, the azure orb spun like a living seed of spring, petals weaving a corolla of light as leaf-etched plates settled over her shoulders and waist; beneath, roots braided into greaves. She lifted the orb and the air itself seemed to answer with breath made visible.

The Fire Princess hovered with perfect poise as the five wheels took their stations: twin fire wheels gliding above her wrists, two wind wheels humming beneath her feet, and the great halo turning behind her like a contained sun. Embered scales traced her arms and shins, every spark held in disciplined reign by the wheeling relics.

The Golden Princess’s twelve swords took their constellation about her, each blade a line of law; her crystalline armour mirrored their geometry in clean, iridescent facets that caught and ordered the light. Her smile steadied like a vow, and the swords answered by singing.

The Water Princess’s mirror deepened to a lake without shore; her armour flowed over her like lacquered river-silk, every surface a calm that returned violence to itself. She tilted the mirror a fraction, and the sea in its glass leaned with it.

Before the Earth Princess, her shield set like a mountain placed by the first dawn; faceted golden plates locked across her frame with the quiet of bedrock. When she braced, the ground remembered its duty and stood with her.

Thus arrayed, the Five stood not as warriors hungry for conquest, but as guardians in perfect control. They had come to save the world, and they would not be moved.

The Celestial Princesses struck first.

The Wood Princess’s orb shone bright, petals rained from the sky and melted the writhing flesh of Móyuān’s shadowed mass; flowers bloomed around its many trampling limbs, and vines climbed to embrace and bind its mountainous body. The Fire Princess launched high, her five wheels circling the behemoth in disciplined orbits; she torched the petals, now glowing amber, and her wheels incinerated the roiling black clouds that fumed from the monster’s pores. The Golden Princess flashed about the Celestial Tower—her swords pierced Móyuān like silver needles, weaving silks of light through the darkness until the shadow thinned. The Water Princess turned her mirror so that fire and swordplay multiplied within it; reflections of flame and blade streamed out in perfect echoes, doubling the reach of every strike.

Móyuān moaned. Serpentine heads unfurled and spat burning acid toward the Princesses. The Earth Princess lifted her shield and a wall of light rose; the venom disintegrated against it. With a sweep, she sent a force that staggered the beast, the soil beneath its rooting limbs crumbling; Móyuān lost its balance and the clutching claws slipped from the Celestial Tower. For one breath, the Tower regained its glow, as if it sighed in relief.

Desperation gathered. The terror mustered aeons of grievance and horror; countless heads of mixed creatures emerged from its surface and screamed, vomiting agonising flames back at the Princesses. The cursed blaze struck. Petals and vines scorched from the Wood Princess’s corolla as she barely dodged, patting wicked embers from her war attire. The Fire Princess and the Golden Princess fell like shooting stars; her wheels crashed with her, spinning weakly, while swords of light stuck in the ground, their glow dimming. The Earth Princess was hurled backwards, fingers slipping along the shield’s rim before she seized it again. Móyuān roared and launched a stronger blast. The Water Princess thrust her mirror forward; a vast wall of light appeared between them, and the mirror’s surface began to crack, barely holding back.

The four rose again. They breathed. They calmed. They moved—not with panic, but with the cadence of the world’s first dance—and drew the elements to them.

The Wood Princess began. Petals of a million colours burst from her orb; wood fed the fire. The Fire Princess’s wheels found their rhythm; flames paraded again around them; fire strengthened the earth. The Earth Princess stood and set her stance; her shield’s form focused into indestructible diamond; earth bore metal. The Golden Princess chimed as her blades multiplied, “Twelve… twenty-four… forty-eight… something—I lost count!” Gold nourished water. “Ninety-six,” the Water Princess answered as Móyuān roared louder and forces gathered; a great light emanated from her mirror and lit up the entire sky.

From that glass, the same cursed flame surged forth—returned to the world in iridescent colours. It met Móyuān’s blaze, pushed it back, and then flowed over the colossal body in a mantle of prismatic fire. The beast let out a giant echo—part pain, part release—and shrank, and shrank, until it dissipated into the air like the end of a storm.

The Five Celestial Princesses stand triumphant before the defeated Móyuān. Like the waning of a storm that has raged for centuries, its colossal form, once towering and all-consuming, began to unravel. Shadows peeled away in curling wisps, dissolving into the air as if the night itself is being drawn back by the dawn. The monstrous limbs, which had trampled mountains and clawed at the sky, lost their strength and collapsed, crumbling into dust that scatters on the wind. Its many heads, twisted with ancient grief and rage, let out a final, echoing wail—a sound that trembles through the land like the last rumble of thunder after a typhoon.

The darkness that had choked the world thins, retreating in slow, reluctant waves. Where Móyuān’s body once sprawled, the earth is left scarred but open to the light, as if a great flood has finally receded, leaving behind the promise of new growth. The air clears, the sky closed up again, and the oppressive weight that had pressed upon every living soul lifts, little by little, until only silence and the gentle breath of wind remain.

The Princesses watched the end of the storm together. Still radiant with the power that had saved the world, but their celestial bodies bore the marks of their great sacrifice just like the world they have just saved. The battle had been won, but the cost had been high indeed.

Across the five regions of Shen, people emerged from their hiding places, their faces streaked with tears of relief and gratitude. They had witnessed the impossible—five beings of pure light standing against the darkness and emerging victorious. The world that had seemed lost forever was now restored, and the balance that had sustained all things for countless generations was once again in harmony.

But the Princesses knew that their time in the mortal realm was drawing to a close. Their celestial forms, though still magnificent, had been battered by the battle, the sisters embraced each other tightly before they part.

The Wood Princess was the first to depart. She held out her orb, the sacred relic that had summoned the azure clouds and petals of heaven, and it began to glow with an inner light that seemed to pulse with the rhythm of life itself. The orb floated back towards the East, it seemed to hum to farewell the Princess. With a final smile that seemed to carry the promise of eternal spring, the Wood Princess dissolved into a shower of petals that drifted away with the eastern winds.

The Fire Princess was next to leave. She released her spinning wheels from her, they glowed with controlled fire in the sky, and flew together toward the South. The Fire Princess’s form began to shimmer with heat and light, she gazed toward the south as her body gradually vanished into the flames, leaving no trace of smoke behind, only warmth.

The Golden Princess followed, her sweet voice like bells ringing one final time across the land. Her twelve shining swords began to orbit around her in a final dance of light. They spun together until eventually bound together back to one single sword, and zapped toward the West. The Golden Princess’s brilliant smile was the last thing the world saw before she dissolved into pure light, shining towards the West to rejoin the regained radiance of the crystal mountains.

The Water Princess was the fourth to depart. She walked towards her cracked mirror to embrace it. Tears ran down from her face and rolled down the cracks. The mirror seemed to glow with reciprocal heartache, and they slowly vanished together like the mirage on a distant ocean. The rivers nearby seemed to sigh witnessing the poignance, but continued to carry her wisdom in its flow back to the ocean.

The Earth Princess was the last to go, and her departure was the most enduring of all. She dragged her battered body for hundreds of li’s back to the Heartland palace. The Emperor and officials awaited for her with tears of gratitude in his eyes. She looked at him with the steady, unyielding gaze of one who had seen the beginning and end of all things, and she nodded with the stoic assurance that had return hope to the world.

Her Diamond Shield, the relic that had protected her sisters and shattered the debris of the falling Tower, began to glow with the strength of the earth itself. She placed it gently upon the ground, where it became a monument to integrity and protection, a symbol of the unbreakable promise to hold the world up. The Earth Princess’s form began to sink into the earth, her body returning to the element that had given her strength, and as she disappeared, the very ground seemed to sigh with the knowledge that the world was safe once more.

The Heartland Emperor, moved by the sacrifice of the Earth Princess, erected the Diamond Shrine where she had rested into the earth. He rebuilt the part of the palace around the shrine, creating a sacred space where the Shield would be revered for all time, a testament to the Princess who had given everything to save the world.

Shen was in balance once again, and for a hundred more years, the world thrived. The five relics left behind by the Celestial Princesses became symbols of hope and inspiration, their reminder ensuring that the balance would be maintained. The Celestial Tower, although scar still visible, its light burned bright once more, the elements flowed in harmony, and the people lived in peace and prosperity.

The balance was restored, but balance, like all things in the cosmos, is not eternal. The dust of decay would return once more, and when it did, the world would need its Five Daughters again.