Frozen Flame

Prologue: Fire Temple

Five Days Before

Screaming and yelling cut through the air like lightning. A dark atmosphere encompassed the Temple; sinister and discomforting, it was like a nightmare had been brought to life.

So the mountain responded.

Lava leapt up inside Fire Mountain and liquid fire swirled inside the prisons like a whirlpool. Magma arced around the Fire Temple and dripped off the mountainside; each droplet racing the other to the foreboding fall below - the dark clouds that shielded everything underneath. Death echoed from the scalding heat.

A tap rang out through the Temple halls. A pause. Then, another tap. A few seconds and a sharp click like that of nails on hollow stone. Another second and the clicks continued a steady rhythm.

Light brushed through a glassed window, the slightly opaque panes casting rivers of red across the brown and golden walls. The floor sparkled with an underlying black matter as its contrasting golden sheets pulled up into a magnificent device. The gargantuan arrows pulled out from the centre of it, laying shadows on the huge numbers and swirling written scrawls engraved across its surface. 

Next to the device rose a dark chair, flat-slated seat and unfurled daggers towering above the ground in a magnificent display of strength and unparalleled ownership. However, the golden crown slung carelessly across one of the spikes testified against this. 

Seated uncomfortably in the chair in simple clothes of gold, red and black, perched an elegant figure; one leg over the other, arms placed delicately against the chair's arms, a faintly sweet aroma trailing off his form. Lavender. His head tilted slightly and a long strand of his dark hair fell across his face. His long neck pulled out from his collarbones and shoulders as his eyes roamed the device sweeping the floor beside him. 

He paused. A second. He moved back into his original position, clicking his nails on the chair. Then stopped. His foot resumed its tapping on the floor. They should have been back by now. Why weren't they here?

He moved his hand, drawing it up across his hair and sweeping it back behind him. His hand lingered, catching the warm light as his eyes picked the contrast between his pale skin, the light, and the shadow, casting a patch of blue. Then, reflecting off his skin, the light danced in his green and grey eyes. He blinked, long black lashes shutting off the reflected light immediately.

He dropped his hand, leaning his head back onto the chair and sighing. A swallow. His lips parted and he breathed in and out, returning his head to face the massive expanse of floor before him. "What a pain..."

The doors flew open, followed swiftly by clashing metal and cries of pain. Fighting. Struggling. Anguish. The prisoner was finally here.

The Fire Lord clicked his tongue and sighed again. His face fell into a blank slate, long, black hair stilling in its position as if snuffing out its former life. Sunlight streamed through the open doors, catching with the golden light from above and displaying a cold impatience in the king's eyes. An elegant hand raised to his dark hair, gently brushing a strand behind his ear before lowering and pushing the king up. 

Soldiers tugged and pulled at the prisoner emerging from the doorway, tugging at his chains as he struggled against them. Sweat dripped down their heads, covering the hard ground in silvery sheen and pulling against the tiredness sweeping their frames. 

All at once, the prisoner's body went limp, the soldiers tripping over themselves to regain balance in the sudden lax of resistance. Used only as a ploy, the prisoner's eyes widened with awareness and he quickly untangled their grasp. His body moved at impossibly invisible speeds, flipping him away from them, as he broke for the open door. But soldiers in Fire were well trained. Very well trained. Only a few metres and barely a second separated them before a soldier began to transform.