Phoenix Home stretched out before Gu Xiulan.

Once, before the cataclysm, it had been the summer palace of the Lu. A great sprawling complex built upon an artificial hill, overlooking some of the richest farmland in the province. Now, dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, and only the faint scent of salt in the northern wind hinted that they ever ended.

But they were clean dunes, white and pale pink sand rather than clinging gray ash or blackened corruption. Three great oasis watered the city at the foot of the palace hill, and the canals that lay between spread soft greenery through the reds and whites of the city’s structures. Roads spread out from the city’s walls like a web, carrying stone and metals out and bringing foodstuffs and organic goods in.

But Gu Xiulan did not have eyes for the city, only the palace above. In the Cataclysm the high nand fluted towers and aerial paths of the Lu had been destroyed, melted really. What had remained was a great multihued mountain of fused glass and metal, a jagged and ugly mound of raw material.

The Gu had done much to alleviate that, in the millenia that they had sheltered here. Glass had been reheated, and metal recast, shaped by thousands of craftsmen over the centuries into something fit for habitation. Gu Xiulan allowed her eyes to wistfully trace the thin spires of rose pink glass and shining gold.

“A bit fragile innit,” commented Zheng Nan said, shading his eyes.

Gu Xiulan’s eyebrow twitched.

However handsome he was, however mighty his clan the Zheng scion had begun to wear on her nerves during this trip. He was so utterly, unrelentingly crass, and not even in the charming accidental way that Ling Qi managed. Zheng Nan knew his manners. He just chose not to employ them.

“Many enemies have thought so as well,” Gu Xiulan sniffed, pulling her head back inside the carriage. They were currently moving slowly, having joined the city's incoming traffic. It would be unbecoming to disrupt the city's lifeblood without an emergency to justify it. “Yet still the Palace of Dawn stands.”

“That’s just walkers though isn’t it? Hardly a thought in those empty skulls,” Zheng Nan said idly. “You need some good solid stone and earthwork in a fortress. That’s why the hill is good. You featherheads always did like your shiny nests and sparkly bits though.”

Gu Xiulan shot him a scowl from behind her golden veil. “We have seen off more than a half dozen incursions from organized forces, headed by long dead generals,” she sneered. “You might know that, if you bothered to read, or if the Zheng ventured out of their little play zone to fight real battles.”

She had long lost her reticence to insult this irritating man. It wasn’t as if he actually knew offense.

“Now that’s just mean,” Zheng Nan mused. “It’s not like we don’t want to fight you know? We just won so hard that there’s no one left, and our vassals are a bunch of sissies.”

Gu Xiulan huffed. Only the Zheng would be disappointed that their vassals held no pretensions of rebellion. As if they had not stamped out dissenters with savage glee in the past. “Barbarian.”

“That I am,” Zheng Nan said flippantly.

Annoying man, Xiulan thought.

“It’s okay, I think your nest is really pretty,” Linhuo chirped cheerfully in her head. “It’s so warm and nice here! I just want to fly around and dance in the fires!”

At least someone was appreciative, Gu Xiulan thought. She would have to make arrangements for Linhuo to visit the Subterranean Sun’s nest. The ancient sun crow’s energies were as invaluable to the cultivation of spirits and spirit beasts as they were to powering the Palace’s defenses and purifying the surroundings of creeping taint.

They proceeded in silence for a time, approaching the city gates. “Any ideas on how long I’m going to be waiting to meet with your old man?”

“I can’t imagine that you will have to wait at all,” Gu Xiulan replied. “You bear a message from…” Duke wasn’t the right word for the Zheng. “The leaders of Ebon Rivers.”

“Nah,” Zheng Nan dismissed, waving a meaty hand in dismissal. “S’not right to favor foreigners over family. I’ll keep for a bit. How long is your meeting with your old man going to be? Think I have time to grab a bath? Heard you have some real nice mineral springs around here.”

She eyed Zheng Nan dubiously. How convenient of him to offer an excuse to hold off his meeting in a way that does not offend any sensibilities. After all, it would be rude to force a guest to a meeting immediately if they requested hospitality. That was one reason she found him so very irritating. Zheng Nan was clearly intelligent enough. He simply chose to act the ruffian.

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“I am sure something can be arranged. The Palace springs are open to the guests of the Gu,” Gu Xiulan replied airily.

“Haha! Very good,” Zheng Nan laughed. “Hear that boys! I bet I can score at least one of you a guest invite! Who wants to come get wet with me!”

Gu Xiulan’s eyebrow twitched as he catcalled her retinue. She drew the shutter on her carriage window down.

It seemed she was going to be meeting Father sooner than she had anticipated.

***

The doors of the throne room closed slowly behind her.

The hall was a veritable cavern of steel, gold and glass. Twelve great pyres burned along the walls, and the pale blue fires rose almost to the ceiling twenty meters overhead. A thick carpet of crushed velvet, imported from the Celestial Peaks covered the tiled floor. At the far end of the room was a scalloped stairway, carved from rose glass, and at the top, a burning curtain of white flame concealing Father’s throne and guarding him against assault.

Normally this place would throng with courtiers, tradesmen and soldiers, attending to her Father and matters of court. Today, it was empty.

She was alone here, Linhuo had been left to gorge herself and undergo evaluation by the clan’s experts in spirit health. There was only the shadow behind the fire, Father’s silhouette.

Gu Xiulan held in her trepidation with admirable aplomb, but still, in the back of her mind, she felt some dread. Mother and Yanmei had both disapproved of what she had done. Mother had been angry, and that had hurt. Even if she knew that it was out of concern for her, it had hurt.

Gu Xiulan didn’t regret what she had done. She would not be irrelevant. She would not be mediocre. She would not fall behind. She refused that fate. Under the fabric of her gown, Ling Qi’s gift was cold against her skin.

But Father had always been distant, not cold precisely, but detached. Yet despite that Mother had said that she had upset him as well. If…

Straightening her shoulders, Gu Xiulan cast out her doubts and moved forward. Her footsteps were near silent on the soft carpet, yet they seemed to echo in the vast, empty hall. She stopped precisely eight paces from the base of the stairs and clasped her hands to bow to the silhouette behind the fire.

“The returning daughter greets her august Father, and presents herself for inspection,” Gu Xiulan said crisply, her voice seeming quiet compared to the crackle of the pyres.

Her response was silence. Then, the quieting of the fires. She felt the heat of the curtain recede, and heard the quiet yet purposeful sound of footfalls on glass. Gu Xiulan maintained her posture, even as she prepared her arguments defending her actions.

The footfalls descended the steps, one by one.

“Raise your head,” said Father. His voice was that of a commander of men, stern and brusque.

Gu Xiulan took a deep breath and straightened up. Father wore his robes of state. Many thick layers of fabric and silk, patterned off dancing flames. On his brow was a thin circlet of platinum, with a single ruby inset at his brow. It burned with the power of the sun. It held back his dark hair, which fell to his shoulders.

Father’s aristocratic features were blank as he observed her, but she could feel the weight of his attention in her channels. Studying and judging. Gu Xiulan prepared herself for reprimand.

She was not prepared when his arms wrapped around her.

For a moment, Gu Xiulan stood stiffly in her Father’s gentle embrace, but as he stroked her hair, as he had in only her oldest memories. The tension bled out, she returned the embrace

“My daughter. I am sorry for your suffering,” Father’s stern voice was soft, and tinged by regret.

“I am not,” Gu Xiulan said, any sniffle in her voice muffled by Father’s robe. Her arm still burned and ached, but Father was careful not to jostle it. “I-I do not regret it.”

“Of course you do not,” Father said, and she was startled to hear understanding in his voice. “You are my daughter.”

She didn’t understand.

“Do you know,Xiulan, why only two of your uncles live and have public lives?” Father asked quietly.

“I had thought them lost on campaign,” Gu Xiulan muttered, embarrassment at her position was starting to reassert itself, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to let go of him yet.

“Some were,” Father said, his voice distant with remembrance. “But Xiulan, the men of the Gu burn bright, but so many of us burn quickly.”

“I’m not-” Xiulan began. An old bit of shame, long unspoken, entered her voice.

“You are not. Yet you are my daughter all the same. There is more of me in you than there is in your sisters. It is my failure that I did not recognize that,” he finally stepped back, unruffled by the embrace. There was a hint of fire and affection in his eyes. “Your sisters take after your Mother, even Yanmei, whose flame burns so coldly. We had agreed that she would raise our daughters in accordance with her ways, and until now I had no reason to think wrongly of that.”

Gu Xiulan felt unsteady. But she felt a spark of something in her chest, pride or delight or hope she wasn’t sure.

Father’s expression was blank once again. “Tomorrow Xiulan, I have cleared time for us in the Cloudflame Spire. You will show me what you can do, and after…” He closed his eyes for a moment. “Soon I will embark on the annual perimeter march of our lands. You will attend as well. It is past time that I teach one of my children to campaign.”

“Mother always said that sort of thing was not suited to a young lady,” Gu Xiulan said slowly, but she didn’t object.

“And your Mother and I have already had this argument,” Father said, observing her again. “You will continue to do dangerous things, seek trials and challenges to feed the fire in your blood. Am I wrong? Should I forbid it, will you obey?”

Gu Xiulan looked away, unable to meet his piercing eyes. “...No Father.”

Yet he seemed satisfied with the admission. “Then, training. Training in war. Training to harness your reckless nature, such that you might only burn yourself when you choose to. If I must treat you as a son to maximize your chances of survival, so be it. I am willing to endure your Mother’s wrath for that.”

“I-Father,” Gu Xiulan stumbled on her words a little. There were a hundred things she could say, but none of them seemed right. Except one.

“Thank you.”