Park Chanyeol is a young man barely on the cusp of adulthood, full of mirth and vibrant enthusiasm no matter the challenge life presents before him; admirable qualities in the soon-to-be leader of the Park Dynasty that reigns over Seoul and the surrounding countryside. While Chanyeol enjoys his life of luxury and social importance, he finds little entertainment in the duties he is expected to perform and often daydreams of ways to get out of his responsibilities. There is no fun in giving speeches or in planning out battles; he prefers to cook for his friends or throw parties in when everyone can dance and forget their troubles. His father shuns such frivolities, going out of his way to do so.

Every August, the populace celebrates the birth of the Park family—friends and family come together to enjoy each others company amidst a buffet of delicacies, toasting the longevity of the emperor and while children plays games in honor of their ebullient prince. This year, however, the merriment is worth noting as it occurs the same year in which Chanyeol becomes a man.

Chanyeol’s birthday is not in August, however. The crown prince is recognized by the royal family and society as the incarnation of the immortal firebird. The story goes that the genesis of the family occurred when the legendary bonghwang gave its life to assuage the darkness in the hearts of men. The creature’s efforts were futile, as the darkness was too strong for its holy power alone; only when it was reborn as a handsome prince did the warlords lay down their weapons and agree to peace. Its selfless act is remembered by the people.

“Do I have to?” Chanyeol grumbles, observing himself in the mirror. His mother helps him clasp the Eternal Sacrament around his neck. It is a bulky necklace containing a myriad of gemstones symbolizing the power of the heir.

The Empress is a strong woman who could have made it own her own without the help of a man, but she threw away her independence for love. Her story is known by many, but the opinion is divided. Some honor her commitments with song and poetry, while others are more vocal in saying she upholds the oppressive system by remaining silent; her opinion on nearly everything is nonexistent—to the public, that is. If only they knew what goes on behind the lacquered red walls of the palace! She is very opinionated; insofar that she has influenced the decisions of the Emperor with a few choice words. Despite the hidden power she wields, she knows her influence and does well not to over extend it.

“Of course you have to,” she insists as she makes sure his vestments are smoothed out and layered correctly. She is a doting mother that only wants the best for her child. “I thought you liked having fun.”

“There’s not a lot of fun in sitting and watching other people dance.” He frowns.

His mother smiles and rubs his shoulder. “Oh, come now,” she leans against his shoulder. Chanyeol is taller than she is. “They’ll get to see your cute face again,” she reminds, as Chanyeol’s father is not much to look at, especially as he grows older.

Chanyeol breathes in sharply and exhales. He is nervous. People will be looking him, and only him. He may be the prince but that doesn’t mean he likes the attention! He wants nothing more than to be able to have fun as part of a group.

“Stop that,” his mother says firmly as she pats him on the back. “Come down whenever you’re ready,” She leaves thereafter, leaving the boy alone.

The synchronized dancers are eager to perform for their prince; they’ve practiced all year for this day. Layers of sheer fabric reveal their ample bosoms, silk contouring their forms. They are for the delight of Park Chanyeol. The performance is to be held in the Shining Courtyard of Flaming Hope on the east side of the palace; the stage is erected and the monarchs sit on their thrones of purple velvet and shimmering gold. Tiers below them is an empty chair, just as regal as their own, meant for their son. The palatial guards, adorning their ceremonial armor and lancets, stand sentinel on either side of the heavenly fount. Numerous torches line the perimeter of the courtyard, their blazing candles providing enough illumination; the warm glow gives the setting a serene feeling.

There is an unspoken tension in the air, even if the assembled populace does not actively realize it.

The acolytes dare not breathe. The magistrates clamor in confusion and panic. Where the hell is the prince? “Is he eating?” His usual haunts are quiet. “Is he sick?” The bathrooms are empty. “Maybe he is sleeping?” His bedroom is vacant.

The priests look to one another. There is terror in their faces. They are supposed to form the Train of Celestial Succession, the line of temporal keepers of the faith representing the guidance the young regnant will need during his tenure; it is representative of their blind loyalty. They cannot follow someone who is not present! One of them has to inform the emperor.

”You should do it! The emperor likes you!”
”I’d rather be executed than face the wrath of the emperor!”

The wooden gates to the stables open slowly, the blackness within opening the imagination to what lurks within. A thunderous roar accompanies the darkness, and seconds later emerges a magnificent equine beast: its horns stretch upwards, its mane billows in the wind; its six hooves pound against the ground, flinging mud in their wake. Hugging its back is a whirling tornado of ebony cotton, the timid countenance of Park Chanyeol. He has chosen to flee the palace and shun his responsibilities than face the torment of having to abstain from fun. He may be well liked for tackling problems head on with a certain childish positivism, but this is one challenge he’d rather let someone else solve—and he will! Let them find a new prince, Chanyeol thinks as he clings to the back of his horse.

The horse is bare, sporting no vestments or other frilly accessories indicative of its status, Chanyeol stripping them long before departure. Aside from the myriad of noble horns on its head and snout, little distinguishes it from the stallions owned by the aristocracy.

It’s not long before Chanyeol is beyond the city limits, disappearing into the forests that blanket the hills around Seoul. It has been a long time since he left; hours, maybe. He lets his horse slow down to a trot. “We’ll be okay,” he says softly as he pats the beast’s neck. Mahogany orbs scan the dark surroundings. There is very little moonlight to make out anything more than the faint outlines of the trees. The unknown scares Chanyeol, and he clings to his horse for protection.

It is sometime before Chanyeol brings his horse to a stop. They have been riding for hours; the boy believes it is time for a rest. They find a stream and the prince lets his horse drink and recover from the escape. Miles back is the palace and everything he left behind. Chanyeol regrets the decision as his stomach rumbles in pain. Normally at this time he would politely pester the head chef to make him a midnight snack. There is no chef to bother now, he thinks as he folds his arms over his knees as he sits on a rock near the bank. It helps suppress the empty feeling inside but not for long.

The young royal looks around. The pale luminance of the waning moon reveals an imposing building sitting some hundred yards away at the base of a hill. At least, he thinks it is a building. He remains hopeful as he grabs the reins of his horse and leads it across the stream. Leather boots scuffle against the stones as Chanyeol tries to skip across the shallow river without falling in. “Damn,” his foot slips and he gets wet in the process He doesn’t care at this point; he’s already ran away from home, so he may as well enjoy the adventure to its fullest.

As he draws closer, Chanyeol can make out the shape of the structure. It looks like one of the churches built by the missionaries who came to Korea decades ago. But the poor condition of the architecture makes it look like it’s been abandoned. The front garden is nothing more than bare earth and crumbling statues. Nevertheless, it will provide the juvenile aristocrat shelter for the evening. A quick stakeout of the building reveals a small shed in the back. It is the perfect place to keep his horse.

”Don’t worry girl. I’m just gonna see if I can find a blanket or maybe some bread!” Chanyeol assures the horse by rubbing the side of its face. It doesn’t seem keen on being left alone; something has it on edge, pawing the ground repetitively.

The front door to the missionary takes some effort to open, the metal hinges having rusted in place from exposure to the elements. The primogeniture can only push the barrier open so far before having to jimmy his slender frame inside. The door shuts on its own accord. Chanyeol jumps at this, but looks around anyway. The pews are overturned, scattered about, or broken. The chandelier that hangs from the vaulted ceiling is still in tack, although it appears to be missing some candles. It’s hard to tell what’s there and what isn’t, Chanyeol having to squint to see anything.

There is carpet on the floor as far as he can tell, his boots making little noise as he steps forward. Suddenly there is the echoing tap of is sole against the stone floor. It makes him jump, but he calms down and he moves farther in.

”Hello?” he calls out. Maybe there is someone living here, he thinks. Chanyeol is all to hopeful, but something in the back of his mind tells him he is alone.

“Greetings,” a voice calls out. It is a sultry yet masculine tone, disembodied for the time being. Chanyeol screeches and attempts to flee the church but to his horror, the door is stuck and refuses to open no matter how hard he tugs and pulls.

Fwhomp! The torches that jut out from the walls come to life, their flames burning brightly. Everything in the old sanctuary is revealed to Chanyeol; it is a ransacked mess, everything smashed and tore up as if a great brawl transpired here.

He holds his breath. Upon the altar is a blob of blackness, constantly ebbing and shifting in size. The phoenix incarnate cannot help but look at it. His body is paralyzed with fear. Time seems to shift and reality bends as the intangible darkness gains a pair of shimmering yellow eyes and rows of sharp teeth.

”W-what the hell are you,’ Chanyeol chokes out.

The teeth form a smile, and the darkness compresses in on itself. It gains shape; defined lines and apparent features mold themselves with no assistance. The formed countenance finally reveals itself as a towering man with a forbearing predisposition with a draconian flare.

The prince finally summons the strength to take a step forward. He is in awe of what he sees, but is still scared.

"Who are y-you?” Chanyeol’s voice trembles as he corrects himself.

”The harbinger of nightmares,” it replies. 

A/n: Lots of mythology jammed into this one; not everything is self-evident, but it will work out in the end, combining elements of Chinese spirituality and the actual band itself. I have some ideas to add to parts of this but I am not sure how to express them yet; updates for the future. Feedback greatly appreciated!