The False Bride for the Dragon King

Prologue

=Prologue=

A long time ago, there were seven moons in the sky.

Their light bathed the world below in silvery tranquility, each moon glowing with a unique hue and casting beauty over the land. But there was one who found himself consumed by a hunger for their ethereal glow. A dragon, ancient and powerful, driven by a greed for things that belonged only to the heavens.

With each passing night, he grew restless, enchanted by the allure of the moons that floated just beyond his reach. Until one night, he could resist no longer. The dragon reached up with his mighty jaws and devoured the first moon. It disappeared, swallowed whole, leaving the sky a little darker. Then, emboldened by his own strength and appetite, he devoured another. And another. Until only a single moon was left to watch over the kingdom.

The people feared the night, for they knew their last light was in peril. They gathered beneath the final, trembling moon, praying and pleading for a way to save it from the dragon’s endless hunger.

Their cries reached the heavens, where Bathala, the goddess who watched over all creation, took pity on them. She descended from the stars, her voice both gentle and commanding, and spoke to the dragon, "You may spare the last moon, but only if the people offer you a bride every century—a soul pure and willing who will dwell within your kingdom. This bride shall bring you honor and appeasement, a symbol of the light you crave.”

Reluctantly, the dragon agreed, his hunger temporarily sated by Bathala’s intervention. The people accepted the pact, knowing they had no choice if they wished to keep the moon in the sky.

And so it was, century after century, until the tale of the brides became a part of the village’s blood—a tradition, a story passed from generation to generation.

But now, the 100th year was upon them once more, and the search for the new bride had begun. They knew the dragon had his own weaknesses, that his senses were mighty, but an excessive clamor—like the clanging of pots and pans—could disturb even his legendary calm. However, they dared not provoke him, for his wrath was still as fierce as his hunger.

As the moon grew full and silver in the sky, the villagers knew it would soon be time to fulfill the ancient pact.