Phoenix Rising

Prologue

Hell existed beneath the floorboards of heaven. The stench of blood and rot filled every inch of the godforsaken darkness, with cries of anguish from those incarcerated reverberating through the stale air.

Beneath the calm, cobbled walkways and pristine landscapes of the royal palace, the dungeons stretched on for miles, its damp and decrepit cells housing a whole array of once-colourful characters, now reduced to a uniform shade of grey. There were thieves and robbers, pirates and arsonists, murderers and rapists—the scum of society—sent here to languish until they finally moved from one hell to the next. How many of them were actually guilty of the crimes they had been sent here for?

A lone figure sat huddled in a corner of her tiny cell, knees hugged tightly against her chest as she rocked back and forth to distract herself from the cold and the pain. Her long, dark strands of hair were matted across her face, hiding the blood-shot eyes that lay beneath. She couldn't remember how long she had been awake for, but it felt like an eternity. The clothes on her back were tattered and torn, ripped by the onslaught of salt-drenched lashes that she had been subjected to in order to force her confession.

"I didn't do it," she insisted, over and over, and so when she had fainted out of fatigue and pain, they would splash cold water over her body until she screamed awake, and then the whipping continued, over and over.

Under the dim glow from the torches that lined the corridors of the dungeons, she could see that awful mark on her right forearm—the symbol of the wretched flame that they had burnt into her skin. Hers and every other prisoner that lived within these walls. That was a mark of disgrace, of deep dishonour, reserved only for the worst of criminals, but up till this moment she still didn't know what she had done wrong.

She lifted her head when she heard the sounds of footsteps and voices heading down the corridor.

"My lady, are you sure you want to be doing this? The dungeon is a terribly dirty place and the prisoners here are not worth your attention. If there is anything you wish to say to the prisoner, I can always help to carry the word."

"Thank you for your considerate thoughts," a soothing voice rang out, "but she is my sister after all, and even if she has committed such a treasonous crime I feel I should still speak with her one last time, to send her on her way."

"You are much too kind-hearted. It is the prisoner's good fortune to have you as a sister. It's a pity she couldn't appreciate it."

Two figures stopped outside her cell, one of them a tall burly man with the usual black uniform of the prison guards, the other a slender young woman in an intricately embroidered dress that could only be the handiwork of the imperial tailors.

"Han Zi-ning," the guard spat, as if her name was too filthy for his lips, "you have a visitor." She could hear the jingling of his keys as he fumbled with the lock. "My lady, it would be best if you just stayed by the door. She could be dangerous."

Dangerous? Her? The truly dangerous one was the snake that was standing beside him now, but of course he didn't know that. People were superficial that way, and she had once been too, which was why she had mistaken this beautiful, gentle girl as a sister who cared for her. Han Meiyan, a sly and cunning fox in sheep's clothing.

"Not to worry. She won't hurt me." Meiyan flicked her wrist elegantly to dismiss the guard. "If you don't mind, I'd like some time in private with my sister."

"Of course. I'll just be around the corner if you need me."

Through her messy strands of hair, she could see the guard retreat down the corridor, and the woman in all her regalia took two steps into the cell towards her.