Ficool

Chapter 8 - The Flame and the Blade

The Baishen Palace sat carved into the cliffs like a crown of stone and fire, gazing over the golden sprawl of the Yanhuang capital below. No structure in the kingdom matched its grandeur. Red lacquered columns stretched toward the heavens, each carved with ancient symbols of the fire god, each kissed by sunlight that turned them into burning gold. The palace roofs shimmered with thousands of glazed tiles, each one the color of fresh blood, layered in delicate upward curves that caught the wind like open hands. Great phoenixes of carved wood flanked the high gates, wings outstretched in frozen motion, their eyes set with polished obsidian.

Walls of ivory stone enclosed the compound, weathered by age but unbroken. Inside, bridges arched over narrow koi ponds, their waters warm and always smoking faintly, fed by the mountain's underground springs. Tall firelotus trees stood watch in the courtyards, their blossoms a deep crimson, blooming all year round. The scent of ash and incense lingered in the air, ever present but never overbearing.

The training grounds spread across the southern wing, shielded by high walls of polished wood and guarded by four brass lions, mouths open in eternal challenge. The field was open to the sky, its earth packed hard and stained with sweat. Wooden dummies lined the perimeter, scorched black and cracked from years of use. Soot streaked the stone tiles beneath them, and in the far corner, a circle of scorched earth lay where firebending duels were most often fought.

A young woman stood there now, her bare foot hovering just above the ground. Her skin gleamed with sweat under the morning sun. Her hair, a rich brown, was tied high, loose strands sticking to her brow. Her body moved with the strength of a hundred hours of training. Lean muscle carved her frame like art made flesh, her arms taut, her back strong, her waist narrow and coiled with power.

Without hesitation, she spun and struck. Her foot smashed through a wooden beam with the grace of a falling star. The splinters had barely scattered when fire hissed behind her.

She did not flinch.

She dropped to one knee, twisting midair and flaring her leg outward. A wide arc of flame exploded from her foot, pushing back the incoming fire with a roar. She landed on her feet, breath steady, eyes sharp. Hazel, like molten gold laced with heat. Before her stood a man, shirtless and smiling.

He was tall, his body built like a blade, lean but solid. Sweat rolled down his chest in silver trails, catching on the lines of muscle shaped by years of battle. His hair was black as coal, long and pulled into a high knot. His eyes were a piercing amber, filled with mischief and challenge. He raised one hand, fire licking from his palm.

The next moment, they were a blur.

She surged forward, fire bursting from her fists. He dodged and swept his leg beneath her, flame trailing his movement. She leapt and flipped midair, her heel barely grazing his nose as he leaned back, laughing.

They clashed again, faster this time. Every movement was sharpened by instinct. Flame collided with flame. Heat distorted the air. Sparks scattered like rain.

He ducked under her elbow and struck her ribs. She grunted, twisted, and grabbed his wrist. A burst of fire flared between them, pushing them apart. Neither wavered.

He launched a flurry of jabs, each tipped with fire, aiming not to injure but to test. She dodged three, caught the fourth, and with a twist of her body, drove him into the ground. He rolled, kicked upward, and knocked her off balance. She landed on her feet but stumbled. He was already on her, fire burning in both hands.

She parried the first flame, then the second, before delivering a sharp elbow to his jaw. He staggered back, just enough for her to swing her foot with explosive force.

He caught her ankle.

She froze.

He raised a brow. "Yield?"

Her free hand lit with fire, aimed at his throat.

He grinned. "You will not."

"Neither will you," she said.

The standoff held.

For a moment, all was still.

Then he let go of her foot. She lowered her hand. The tension fell like ash after the blaze.

"Morning, my dear sister," he said, brushing soot from his arm.

Baishen Huowen, firstborn son of Lady Xuelian. The Flame Crown. His fire was a legend. The priests whispered he carried the blood of the fire god himself. No battle had broken him. No rival had surpassed him. And yet here he stood, shirtless and half-burned, held at bay by his younger sister.

Baishen Huali, the Crimson Blade. Only twenty, but already feared across the ten kingdoms. She had once defeated three generals in a single duel. Not with fire, but with speed, precision, and the fire inside her heart. They called her cold, untouchable. But she burned brighter than anyone knew.

Huali rolled her eyes and dropped to the ground, leaning back on her hands. "I am exhausted. You have got to stop with the sneak attacks. No matter how many times you try, you are never beating me."

Huowen scoffed and did not answer. He stood under the sun, letting the wind cool his skin, letting the sweat dry on his chest.

Huali closed her eyes. For a long moment, she breathed. The air was clean here. High above the rest of the world. Untouched.

"Did you hear?" Huowen's voice broke the silence. "That thing at the shrine is turning fifteen soon."

Her eyes opened wide.

"Finally," she said. "That curse will finally die."

Huowen chuckled low in his throat. "Why do you hate him so much? You know nothing about him."

Huali sat up, her voice hard. "Do not forget it is that thing's fault our mother was paralyzed."

A flicker of guilt passed over Huowen's eyes. He turned away.

"We cannot be sure," he said at last. "The fire god may still choose him. He could be gifted the flame, like all of us."

She stood and brushed the dust from her trousers. "Trust me. God Huoshen does not accept that boy. It was clear from the beginning. He should have died long ago."

She turned her back on him.

In her memory, she saw the flames devour their mother's tent. She was only five, watching from the shadows. Too weak. Too helpless. Her screams drowned by the roar of the fire.

That day, something inside her broke.

That day, she swore never to be weak again.

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