The burning flame that had felt ever present and all encompassing was quenched for the first time in what could have been an eternity. The feeling of sudden clarity after all that time was a lurching, inertia-halting thing and Fa Lian reached for some leverage.
A hand found her own, feeling cool and firm. Fa Lian yelped and recoiled like she had touched a snake. She stood, only realising she was seated in a chair when she threw it behind her with her movement. The room Fa Lian awoke in was not the same grey cell she remembered from her hazy moments of consciousness. She was not lying on the stone floor of some strange prison, but in a room she recognised.
With a person she recognised.
Nausea had rocked Fa Lian from the sense of movement and loss of balance but the bile it brought to her throat was blocked by the most vicious, thorny lump. Her eyes filled with tears before a fully formed thought had managed to cement itself. One word - one name - bouncing around, knocking all other trains of thought from their rails.
“Mother?” Finally, she choked the word out and it felt like ash in her mouth. A painful whimper which stole any resolve she may have had. In the beautiful face of her mother, Fa Lian was no more than the quivering child she had been the day her mother died.
“My sweet little Chick, my poor baby.”
An embrace. The embrace. Warm arms which swaddled and soothed wrapped around the scared and unsure Fa Lian and before she knew it she was weeping. Her mother’s voice crooned in her ear, sweet whispers that both stemmed the flow of tears and cultivated it. “How?” Muffled into her shoulder, Fa Lian did not want to ever break the embrace. How long had it been?
So long that Fa Lian had forgotten her face. This was why she couldn’t look her mother in the eye. It had happened slowly, at first, until eventually she was simply a shape. Dark hair and light clothes. A silhouette in the memory which she was beginning to resemble. She had never appeared in a dream before.
Only in nightmares.
“I’m so sorry, little Chick” She had a soft voice. How had Fa Lian ever forgotten the feeling of that gentle rumble? Or the name her mother used to call her? The one that had lulled her to sleep so many times. Her hands became like claws as she clutched at the back of her mother’s clothing and she wept harder and harder. The soft voice kept soothing, delicate fingers running through Fa Lian’s hair as she cried. “I have seen everything. You are so strong, my love. I’m so proud of you.”
It could be avoided no more.
She looked into the face of Guan Fa Zhuli. Her mother’s face was so similar to her own that it shocked Lian. No one had told her. Her father certainly never had, nor had Shen. There were differences, too. Her brow was softer, her eyebrows more refined. She had less dainty ears than Fa Lian, a result of Yo Shen’s proclivity to play fight until it wasn’t playing anymore. The perfect beauty spot, right above her upper lip, accentuated the difference.
She drank her mother’s face in and pledged to never forget it again. Even if it meant remembering the rest.
“What are you doing here? What are we doing here?” Fa Lian didn’t know how long she had, she realised. She needed to ask her questions quickly. Her question was at first met with sad eyes, the same as Fa Lian’s own when she was nearing tears. Gesturing to sit again, Fa Lian joined Fa Zhuli at the table which was sat in the middle of the room.
“This is… Ah. I see. This is your father’s office, isn’t it?” From her tone, it was a genuine question. Her mother looked around, seeming to take in the room for the first time herself. The somewhat foggy surroundings cleared even more and when they did, the truth of her mother’s words was obvious. The chairs they were seated in were those which faced her father’s seat, closer to the ground than his lest anyone try to look down on him. Light began to stream into the room as a window appeared and bathed everything in an orange glow. “Well, not quite how I remember it.”
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Outside the window was nothing but a sea of flames. Black, red, orange, yellow and a blistering white that danced as though trying to enrapture and entrance one into a deadly waltz. “Where are we, really?” If she could believe that this was really her father’s office, then she could believe that her mother might walk out from the room and back into her life.
“You know where we are, don’t you Chick?”
Fa Lian bit her nip nervously and nodded, deciding to look at the floor. “I’m still in the grey room. This is just in my head.”
“Hahaha!” Lian’s eyes snapped back up. Out of nowhere, Fa Zhuli was nearly doubled over from laughter. Her mother’s surprising outburst of mirth was contagious and before long, Fa Lian was giggling too, asking her mother to stop and explain even as her stomach started to hurt. “In your head?” This made Fa Zhuli crack right as she was gathering composure and the pair were soon rolling around clutching each other.
The peal of her mother’s soft laughter was a nectar Lian did not know she needed. It filled her soul with joy and slotted itself happily into its place as her favourite sound in the world. However, laughter eventually subsided. Tears were wiped away from cheeks which stung. The flames outside continued to flicker.
“No,” her mother took a calming breath and answered, “this is a little more than just in your head. We are inside your core… our core.” Yet again, the truth was evident along with the words. The feel of it was on the edge of Fa Lian’s perception at all times, and the feeling it evoked was strong now. A prickly, ancient scratch against her soul. That was the wound her mother’s death had left.
“So,” Fa Lian’s heart ached as she asked the question she did not want to ask “you’re not really my mother?” It was less of a question and more of a statement. Her mother was dead. She had fought as hard as she could and she had died all the same.
The happiness was still present in her mother’s smile but her eyes betrayed a deeper sadness. It was reflected in Lian’s own. This couldn’t last. The words had not been said but Lian knew that she could not stay forever.
“I have to go out… there. Don’t I?” Back into the flames, was it? It would be the same as before. The room they were sitting in shook with a sudden vibration. Further confirmation of where they were, though it wasn’t needed. Ryong Aang raged outside the safety of the soul stone she had found refuge in for a moment. “This was just a safe place from the fire?”
Soft hands clasped Lian’s own shaking ones and calmed them before she knew it. She raised her eyes from her feet and saw nothing but love. Empathetic tears had breached her mother’s mask and now the two were crying in each other’s arms again.
No. This was so much more than just a quick refuge. Fa Lian had been ignoring and avoiding her mothers - her own - soul stone in place of the power from Ryong Aang. That was now threatening to destroy her and as a good mother should, Fa Zhuli did what she could to help her child.
“Thank you.” The words were simple, and could have meant anything. Yet they meant everything. For the first time ever, Fa Lian thanked her mother for the soul stone within. The memory of the night she died would never fade, as hard as Fa Lian tried to bury it. The soul stone had never felt comfortable because Fa Lian herself had never been comfortable with it. As she hugged her mother and cried the last tears she would shed over her death, Fa Lian found strength filling her. Resolve took the place of angst and Fa Lian set her jaw. No more tears would flow due to this wound, it was closing right here and now.
When the two of them stood, it was Fa Lian who helped her mother stand and not the other way around. As they reached their full height, Fa Lian was shocked to notice that she was taller than her mother. It was a strange thought, one which she saw mirrored in her mother’s face. Except again, the mirror was different. Her own face was unsure and doubtful but her mother’s smile showed only pride.
“You know that you can do anything, don’t you, Chick?” Her mother’s soft whisper had finality to it which Fa Lian thought she was ready for. She would never be ready for that, not really. Yet, she knew that her mother was also right. She could do this.
“Will you- will you… still be here?” Fa Lian fell into one last embrace, whispering the words into her mother’s ear where she couldn’t see her eyes. She knew she would break if she looked into her eyes again. Her answer first came in the form of a tight squeeze, firm and solid arms under her own as Fa Lian buried her face into her mother’s shoulder.
“I am always watching, Chick. From right here.” Her mother pulled the embrace apart before putting a finger in the centre of Fa Lian’s chest.
“My core?”
Her mother laughed again. “Yes,” she answered, “but that’s not where I meant. I love you, always and forever. Trust in yourself, Chick. Can you do that?”
Fa Lian nodded and bit her lip, convincing herself in full would take some time but pretend bravado could work for now. It was time to leave, whether she was ready or not. The roaring from outside was reaching a crescendo. A shadow kept flickering across the windows, a gargantuan shadow that Lian could feel moving around just as much as she could see it.
“I can do anything.” Fa Lian used the words as a crutch and forced herself to move towards the door. She did not look back and she did not need to. Fa Lian could feel the eyes on her back, a slight crawl on her skin that felt welcome rather than uncomfortable. Fa Lian would make it her mantra, one she repeated as she opened the door. “I can do anything.”
The blast of the dragon’s inferno, the furnace that was her entire being, buffeted the room as the door opened. The intense heat pushed Lian back a step, nearly causing her to stumble. It would have, as the wind continued to grow more and more powerful. She braced against it.
Then she felt the hand at her back.
Each forward step was easier than the last as Fa Lian moved forward into the unknown and the dangerous. With the memory of such love at her back, she really could do anything.
“You’ve had your fun, Ryong Aang,” she said as she finally left the safety of the soul stone, “no more setting me on fire. It’s time we organised our living space.”