Avatar: The Book Of The Phoenix

Bin-Er's Bitter End

The eighth day of the siege draped Bin-er in a shroud of dust and dread. The morning sun, pale and unyielding, glinted off King Xuo's armor as he emerged from his command tent, his face carved with resolve. Beside him, Fire Lord Zuko mirrored his grim determination, his scar stark against his taut expression. The air was thick, heavy with the promise of a reckoning.

"Those savages are breaking," Xuo said, nodding toward the city's battered walls. Scavenger birds wheeled lazily overhead, drawn to the stench of desperation seeping from Bin-er's core. "Starvation's done its work. We strike today."

Zuko's amber eyes swept the horizon, lingering on the cracked ramparts. "We can't afford another ambush," he cautioned, his voice low but firm. "Last time cost us too many. We move with precision."

Xuo nodded, his jaw tight. "Agreed. But that beast, Khan Rokkun, answers for his crimes today. Ready the men."

They advanced toward the city, a tense silence settling between them. The usual clamor of war—shouts, steel, the roar of firebending—had vanished. An unnatural hush blanketed Bin-er, broken only by the crunch of boots on ash-strewn earth. The streets beyond the gates were a graveyard of shattered stone and charred wood, devoid of life—no civilians, no defenders, not even stray dogs scavenging for scraps.

"General Sho, take point," Zuko ordered, his hand resting on his dao swords.

"Yes, my lord," Sho replied, his voice steady as he moved forward, hand hovering near his blade.

The emptiness gnawed at Zuko's nerves. His senses screamed of a trap, but the silence offered no clues. They pressed deeper, past toppled market stalls and gutted homes, until the Governor's mansion loomed ahead, its green-tiled roof scarred but defiant under Nomad banners.

Then they saw him.

Khan Rokkun stood at the mansion's entrance, framed against the harbor's glinting waters. Tall and muscular, his sleeveless crimson tunic bared arms rippling with strength, his long copper hair catching the sunlight like molten fire. His amber eyes gleamed with a predator's amusement, a cocky grin spreading across his face—charming, dangerous, utterly untouchable. He leaned casually against a pillar, as if the siege were a minor inconvenience.

"Hold!" Zuko's command sliced through the air, sharp as a blade.

Xuo's fists clenched, his voice a snarl. "Khan Rokkun!"

Rokkun's grin widened, his tone dripping with mockery. "Well, damn, Zuko. Been a hot minute, hasn't it? You're lookin'... weathered." His eyes flicked to Xuo, then back to Zuko, all charisma and contempt.

Zuko's breath caught, a flood of memories crashing over him. That copper hair, those eyes, that voice—it was Aarslan, his childhood friend, the boy who'd sparred with him in the palace courtyards, who'd shared dreams of glory until Zuko's jealousy and Ozai's favor drove a wedge between them. Exile had followed, and now Aarslan stood reborn as Rokkun, the Khan of the Fire Nomads.

"Aarslan," Zuko murmured, the name heavy with regret. He raised his voice, steady but laced with pain. "It's been years. I never thought we'd meet like this—on opposite sides of a war."

Xuo's head snapped toward him. "You know this monster?"

"Once," Zuko said, his voice hardening as he met Rokkun's gaze. "But that boy is gone. You're a butcher now, Rokkun. A war criminal."

Rokkun laughed, a rich, taunting sound that echoed off the ruined walls. "Oh, Zuko, you always were a drama queen. A butcher? Maybe. But look at you—Fire Lord, crown prince of ashes, groveling at the Earth King's side." He stepped forward, his presence commanding, his words a blade aimed at Zuko's heart. "You had fire once, brother. Where is it now? Drowned in guilt? Smothered by your daddy's shadow?"

He turned to the Fire Nation soldiers trailing Zuko, his voice booming, magnetic. "Look at your Fire Lord, men! Once we were conquerors, dragons of the world! Now he begs for peace, a lapdog for the Earth Kingdom's scraps. Where's your pride? Where's the flame in your hearts? We're the Fire Nation—born to rule, not kneel!"

The soldiers shifted, murmurs rippling through their ranks. Doubt flickered in their weary eyes, and Rokkun's grin sharpened, sensing blood in the water.

Xuo's face purpled. "You're a rabid dog, Rokkun! You'll answer for the blood you've spilled!" He gestured to the guards. "Seize him!"

But before they could move, a cry rang out from the ramparts. "Warship! In the harbor!"

All eyes turned to the water. A massive Fire Nation warship, its iron hull gleaming, steamed toward Bin-er, cannons bristling like fangs. Rokkun's hand, raised in a casual gesture, dropped sharply—a signal.

The cannons roared.

The first salvo struck the city walls, a deafening explosion that shook the earth. Dust and flame erupted, swallowing screams as stone shattered like glass. Soldiers were hurled back, bodies crumpling under a hail of debris. The bombardment was relentless—each cannonball a hammer, splintering buildings, igniting wooden roofs, transforming Bin-er's streets into a blazing inferno. The air choked with smoke, blood, and despair.

"Xuo, we have to move!" Zuko shouted over the chaos, ducking as shrapnel whistled past.

Xuo spurred his mount, his face grim. "Fall back! To the gates!"

They navigated a maze of collapsing structures, dodging flaming timbers and the panicked cries of survivors. Zuko's heart pounded, his firebending flaring to deflect a falling beam.

Xuo rode with fierce precision, weaving through narrow alleys as roofs caved in behind them. The city gates loomed ahead, a jagged promise of escape. They burst through, the roar of cannons fading slightly as they reached open ground.

Meanwhile, at the harbor's edge, Rokkun emerged from a hidden tunnel beneath the mansion, his tunic singed, his copper hair streaked with grime. The bombardment's thunder was a symphony to his ears. He dove into the icy water, swimming with powerful strokes toward the warship. A grappling hook snagged his arm, hauling him aboard as he gasped for air.

Azula was there, her golden eyes blazing with fierce pride. She pulled him close, her arms wrapping around him, her lips finding his in a searing, hungry kiss. "You brilliant bastard," she whispered, her voice trembling with admiration. "You burned them all."

Rokkun grinned, his charisma undimmed despite the chaos. "Told you I'd light up the night, princess."

From the warship's deck, they watched Bin-er burn—its walls crumbling, its streets a sea of flame. Rokkun's eyes gleamed with cold satisfaction. The city was his message, his opening move. And Zuko, his old friend, would feel its heat.