The carriage rocked to a stop, the clop of hooves fading as the palace gates loomed overhead. Kaen stepped down after Iroh. He followed close behind, almost glued to Iroh's shadow.
The palace halls were vast, their stone floors polished so smooth Kaen swore he could see his reflection as he walked. Fire Nation banners lined the walls, scarlet and gold, each torch burning steadily, as if even the flames here obeyed strict discipline. Servants moved quickly, bowing deeply as Iroh passed, but their eyes never lingered on Kaen; the General's presence was enough to erase questions.
At last, Iroh turned, pushing open a carved wooden door. The rich smell of herbs and spices struck Kaen before he even stepped in. A kitchen—spacious, stocked with every tool and ingredient a tea master could dream of.
Iroh clapped his hands together lightly, eyes shining. "Now then, Kaen. You promised to show me your secret. Teach me how you make tea that sends a person to heaven."
Kaen took a breath, steadying himself. He moved to the counter, his fingers brushing over leaves until he found the Jasmine blend. "The secret," he began, "is respect. Most think tea is just hot water and leaves. But tea… has a rhythm. A patience."
He set the kettle on, explaining each step with precision.
Water temperature: "Too hot, and you scorch the leaves. Too cold, and the flavor never blooms. Jasmine needs water that's heated just below a rolling boil—around 85 degrees. You have to listen to the water, not just see it."
Leaf measure: "A pinch too much, and bitterness wins. Too little, and the taste fades like a whisper. Balance is everything—three pinches, no more, no less."
Brewing time: He tapped the edge of the cup. "Patience. Two minutes and twenty seconds. That's when Jasmine sings. Not before. Not after."
Iroh watched with a scholar's intensity, nodding, his usually soft eyes sharp with interest. "Hm. Listening to water, measuring silence in leaves… You make tea sound like meditation."
Kaen smirked faintly. "It is meditation."
When the kettle hissed and the steam rose fragrant, he let Iroh pour, guiding his hand with gentle corrections. Together they waited, and when the time came, they lifted the cups.
Iroh sipped first. His eyes closed. Silence stretched, then a deep, satisfied sigh escaped him. "Yes… yes. Like a breeze through jasmine flowers in the evening. You have honored me, Kaen."
Kaen took his own sip. Perfect. He nodded slightly, pride flickering in his chest.
"Now," Iroh said, rising slowly, "we have earned something stronger."
They carried their cups into the palace gardens. The space opened wide beneath the fading sun, stone paths cutting through seas of flowers and ancient trees. Statues of dragons coiled around fountains, and in the center, a wide clearing spread—meant for training.
Iroh shrugged off his heavy robes, revealing a sturdy frame beneath, thick with muscle despite his age. He rolled his shoulders, cracked his neck, then gestured for Kaen to do the same. "Firebending," he said, voice deep with meaning, "is not anger. Not hatred. It is breath, life, and drive. Many confuse it for rage, but rage burns fast and leaves nothing but ash. True fire is discipline. It is the flame that warms, not the wildfire that destroys."
Kaen stripped down to lighter clothes, his pulse racing.
"Remember this: fire comes from the breath. Inhale—life. Exhale—flame. The flame must be an extension of yourself, not a weapon you wield carelessly."
Iroh demonstrated slowly, moving into stances that looked like a dance. His feet rooted to the earth, his arms swept in controlled arcs. Each inhale drew his chest wide, each exhale a measured thrust of his palm. Fire burst forth—not violent, but steady, brilliant, curling like silk in the air.
He shifted through forms:
The Rising Dragon—a sweeping upward motion, flame climbing like a pillar into the sky.
The Coiling Serpent—a spiral of fire following his arm's graceful twist.
The Breathing Phoenix—inhale long and deep, exhale in a sudden flare, flame spreading like wings.
Every movement flowed into the next, smooth as water, precise as steel. Kaen's emerald eyes locked on Iroh, his breath caught in his throat.
And then—Primordial Witness activated.
Golden script shimmered before Kaen's eyes:
[Skill Acquired: Firebending (Purple-Tier)]
[Effect: Grants mastery over the art of bending fire. Power, control, and growth determined by the user's Chi and discipline.]
Kaen's lips curled upward, slow and sharp. Finally.
"Now then," Iroh said, folding his arms behind his back, studying him with a teacher's calm gaze. "You've seen my forms. Show me your stance. I want to see where you are starting from."
Kaen stepped forward into the open clearing, the fading sun painting his skin in red-gold. He inhaled deeply, chest rising just as Iroh had shown, feet grounding into the stone with quiet strength. His arms rose, elbows bent, palms open. The rhythm of his breathing flowed steady, not forced.
Then, he moved.
One step forward—his body angled low, weight balanced perfectly on the balls of his feet. His arms cut through the air in a sweeping arc, fluid, deliberate, and his exhale pushed flame from his palm. Not wild fire, not a reckless burst—controlled, focused, elegant. The flame climbed high, straight as a spear, without wavering.
Iroh's eyes widened.
Kaen flowed immediately into another stance—the spiral, the serpent. His footwork glided, each pivot sharp yet smooth, his arm twisting with unnatural precision. Fire obeyed him, curling in perfect spirals, rising and falling as though it had always been part of him.
The final motion—the Phoenix. His inhale was deep, controlled, like the sea drawing breath. His exhale, sudden and explosive, spread fire outward like wings unfurling, bright enough to reflect off the palace walls. The heat rushed across the garden, washing over Iroh himself.
The general's teacup slipped slightly in his hand before he caught it again.
Kaen straightened, standing tall, emerald eyes glowing faintly in the firelight, his hands lowering into calm stillness. He had not stumbled once. His breathing was steady. His flames, alive.
Silence stretched between them.
Iroh finally exhaled, a sound half a laugh and half disbelief. "Are you certain you need someone to teach you firebending, Kaen? Because what you just showed me… even seasoned soldiers would struggle to imitate so perfectly."
Kaen smirked faintly, though inside, his heart was still racing. "Maybe I just… have a great teacher."
Iroh studied him, eyes narrowing slightly—but his smile never left.