Far from the shimmering halls of the Naga palace, On the surface of the 7 mountains Sea, a kingdom of coral and spirit light pulsed with ancient power.
The Coral Spirit Clan, rulers of the tide temples and guardians of the sea surface treasures, had lived for centuries upon the sea surface and reefs, their cities floating between water and mist like eternal mirages.
And for just as long, they had been sworn enemies of the Serpent Clan—a blood feud old as the shifting of continents.
The Serpent Clan claimed dominion over all that coiled and writhed in the deep. But the Coral Spirits believed they were the true inheritors of the Sea Mother’s legacy, protectors of balance, purity, and sacred salt. To them, the Serpents were a greedy, power-hungry race that corrupted the harmony of the deep.
In the Sanctum of Bone Coral, where no light reached, a forgotten force stirred.
Inside the temple, carved from fossilized coral and layered with spirit seals, the water shimmered unnaturally as a coffin of white marrow split open, sending blue flames spiraling into the currents.
The attending elders gasped and fell to their knees.
The being who rose from the stone tomb was Ancestor Khagara, once titled “The Thousand Currents Tyrant”, a being who had lived during the First Sea War, a creature of such immense power that even sea dragons swam backward at his name.
“Summon the Clan, this is urgent.” Khagara croaked, his voice like a rusted blade dragging across stone. “There is little time left.”
The servants immediately carried the ancestor’s body to the Tideveil.
After a few minutes…
Within the Heart Chamber of the floating city Tideveil, the great coral thrones pulsed with bioluminescent veins as the high elders and war chieftains gathered in a spiral formation. At the center, on a risen dais, stood the withered, towering form of Khagara, his seaweed beard swaying like kelp, eyes glowing white.
“My vision pierced the veil between dreams and tides,” Khagara said, his voice echoing without motion. “I saw a flood of lightning and storm. I saw serpents rising like a powerhouse. And at their head, was a woman—a serpent princess—her Yin body overflowing, but no longer a curse… a divine blessing awakened!”
The gathered chieftains looked to each other with unease.
One of them, the Coral Flame Prince Ullo, narrowed his coral-ridged eyes. “You speak of the First Princess of the Serpent Clan—Neela of the Frozen Pulse. But she is said to be cursed. In stasis. Useless.”
“Not anymore,” Khagara said grimly. “A male with the Sovereign Yang Body has appeared at her side.”
Gasps filled the chamber.
“Impossible!” shouted High Priestess Sarya. “The Sovereign Yang Body vanished from our realms before the Second Ocean Shift! It is a relic of divine bloodlines, long extinct!”
Khagara raised one bony hand. The currents froze in mid-flow.
“And yet he lives. I saw his blood churn the stars. I saw fire coil around cold scales. And I saw what follows—the rise of the Serpent Empire, with Neela as its divine matron and the Yang Sovereign as her consort.”
He turned to the council.
“If we allow her to awaken, nothing will stop their clan. They will control land and sea. Sky and abyss.”
The chamber fell into a cold silence.
After long moments, Ullo stepped forward.
“Then we kill her. Before she rises back in glory.”
Khagara nodded once. “She must die within 3 moon cycles. After that, the union of Yin and Yang will make her body untouchable by any curse or weapon.”
Sarya trembled. “But we are bound by the Sea Treaty! The truce has held for two hundred years—”
“Then break it,” Khagara growled. “Or you will kneel before serpent gods and call it mercy.”
–
Sea Ancestral Temple…
The morning sun painted soft streaks of gold across the cloudy blue sky above the Serpent Clan’s palace. Dew still clung to the leaves of the sacred sea-grass vines that curled around the palace walls. But for Varun, the Second Prince of the Naga Clan, there was no beauty in the morning.
He stormed down the marble hallway lined with serpent statues, his hand gripping the hilt of his jade staff. A frown etched deep between his brows.
“If that human quack tries to stall again,” he muttered to himself, “I’ll crush his so-called healer bones into sea salt.”
His long serpent tail coiled tightly beneath his robes, a clear sign of his frustration. He had tolerated Kent for far too long—three full days of vague diagnoses, strange herbs, and quiet arrogance. His sister’s condition remained unchanged… or so he thought.
As he reached the entrance of Neela’s chamber, he barked to the guards, “Stand aside!”
But the guards were already bowing.
Varun blinked.
And then his breath caught in his throat.
There, stepping out from her chamber under the morning light, was Princess Neela—not in her usual frost-silk resting robes, not bound in pale weakness—but in full ceremonial garb, wrapped in deep sapphire armor laced with silver scales, her silver hair cascading like a moonlit waterfall behind her. Her posture was sharp, her gait elegant and swift, her face aglow with life.
Not the fragile girl who had spent the last decade in ice and silence.
“Sister…?” Varun asked, frozen in place.
Neela’s gaze cut to him like a whip.
“Is that how you greet your elder sister after ten years?” she snapped, her voice no longer weak, but crisp and commanding.
The nearby attendants gasped softly.
Varun instinctively dropped to one knee. “You… you’re standing. You’re well.”
Neela narrowed her eyes. “No thanks to you. Nor to the healers who nearly ruined my body with their poisons and short-sightedness.”
Her words were laced with restrained fury. She turned her head slightly toward the inner corridor.
“It was Kent. A Human, yes, but one who understands the body better than all your overpaid clan alchemists combined.”
Varun opened his mouth, then shut it. His pride twisted like a blade.
“If he had failed,” he said quietly, “I would have—”
Neela raised her hand sharply. “You would have what? Harmed him? Blamed him for centuries of our incompetence?” Her tone was regal and cold. “Do not mistake your worry for righteousness, Varun. You owe him an apology.”
The prince looked away, jaw clenched.
“Go,” Neela said. “Go to his chamber. Bow if you must. And thank him.”
Varun remained motionless for a breath too long.
“Or must I ask Father to strip you of your post and assign you to guard duties at the sewer gates for a month?”
That made Varun move.
He bowed his head deeply and strode away in silence, the sound of his retreating steps echoing through the halls like thunder in reverse.
–
The Royal Palace – Morning Assembly
As Neela stepped into the Great Assembly Hall, murmurs erupted like crashing waves.
Ministers dropped their scrolls. Servants gasped. The two elders seated at the front of the court leaned forward in disbelief.
“Is it truly…?”
“The Cold Iron Princess…”
“But she was—her spirit was sealed—how—?”
Neela walked with grace and certainty, flanked by two serpent guards she personally summoned. Her steps echoed over the coiled serpent sigils that adorned the polished marble floor. Her gaze swept the hall—each noble, each official, every whispering figure—until silence fell like a curtain.
She stopped before the thrones of the royal family, now empty at this hour but still sacred.
Raising her chin, she addressed the chamber.
“I, Neela of the Serpent Bloodline, First Daughter of the Great Naga Lineage, return to the service of the clan.”
Her voice rang clear and powerful.
“My condition, once seen as a curse, is now under control. My body and spirit are whole. From this moment, I resume command over the Northern Division of Ice Vanguard, reclaim the Pearl Lotus Sigil, and request reinstatement of my seat in the High Table War Council.”
The stunned court stared. Only one dared speak.
An elder minister with eyes like algae-filled glass stammered, “P-Princess… this—this is—how did you…?”
Neela’s lips curved into the barest smile.
“Ask the man in Chamber Hall Three,” she said calmly. “He walks among us, not as a serpent, but with fire in his blood. If not for him, I would still lie in frost, dreaming of light I’d never see.”
—
Later – Palace Courtyard
Outside, whispers spread like wildfire through the palace and down to the markets beyond.
“Did you hear? Princess Neela… she’s awake. Not just awake—she’s back!”
“They say she was radiant… that the chill in her aura is gone.”
“Impossible! She was declared untreatable. They built a tomb-hall in her name!”
“Word is… a foreigner healed her. A fire healer.”
“Fire? Against her Yin curse? Isn’t that suicide?”
“No, no, they say he’s no ordinary fire-user. They say he has… extreme healing techniques!”
By evening, Kent’s name had begun to spread quietly through the palace. Still unknown to most, but whispered with curiosity and awe.
–
Alone in the Mirror Hall, where moonlight reflected endlessly through crystal pillars, Neela stood before her reflection. Her fingers trembled slightly as they touched her face—warm, alive, unburdened by pain for the first time in a decade.
She thought of Kent.
His quiet gaze. His patience. His refusal to back down even when her brother threatened him.
“A Human,” she whispered. “But not lesser.”
She stepped away from the mirror, her expression unreadable.
“Let them come now. Coral Clan or storm gods—whatever fate has for me… I will face it. I am no longer frozen.”
And with that, she walked forward, a new fire flickering beneath her calm exterior—the once-cursed princess, now the Cold Iron Reborn.
–
Back in Tideveil…
Coral Prince Ullo, draped in battle armor made from shark spine and crushed spirit pearls, stood at the helm of a massive manta ray beast. Behind him, seven assassins cloaked in obsidian sea-silk, their faces hidden by conch masks, knelt in silence.
“You have seven days,” Princes UIIo intoned. “Slip through their wards. Use the Darkwater Shadow Veil. Do not return unless the First Princess’s heart is pierced.”
Ullo raised a trident crackling with purple lightning. “The ocean does not forget. Let the serpents drown in their own ambition.”
And with that, the assassins dove into the dark sea, racing toward the surface, toward the Naga Palace—toward Neela.
–
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