The grand hall shimmered with the golden glow of lanterns, their light dancing off polished marble floors and the crimson silk draped from the ceiling. Music filled the air—soft, regal, and heavy with tradition. The Fire Nation elite spun and swayed in coordinated elegance, all vying for a single moment of attention from the one man whose name burned like legend: Fire Lord Ozai.

You stood quietly near a towering column, half hidden in the shadows cast by flickering torches. The dress your mother forced you into was breathtaking—deep red silk trimmed with gold, with a phoenix embroidered across the bodice in delicate thread. It clung to your form with precision, your hair styled perfectly, jeweled pins catching the light every time you moved. You looked like a proper noblewoman, a daughter of Fire Nation nobility.

But that didn’t change the truth.

You were a non-bender.

The only one in your family. While your sisters had dazzled since childhood, igniting candles with a flick of their fingers, training with masters, and drawing proud glances from your father—you had learned to be silent. Invisible. An embarrassment, they called you, though never in front of others. No, in public they wore masks of politeness and grace. Only in the privacy of your home did the scorn cut deep.

So why were you even here?

Because Fire Lord Ozai had ordered it. Every eligible maiden in the kingdom, no exceptions. Your sisters had laughed when you stepped out in your gown, one of them whispering, “Maybe he needs a servant.” You pretended not to hear. You were good at that.

Across the room, he stood on the raised dais—tall, broad-shouldered, commanding. His armor was regal, polished to a mirror shine, his crown shaped like roaring flame. There was something dangerous about his presence, something that made even the highest nobles bow lower and speak softer. He was a man of terrifying power… and unimaginable fire.

You looked away. No point dreaming. You couldn’t even light a candle.

But then… his voice cut through the room like a blade.

“You. In the corner.”

Every eye turned. Yours widened. He couldn’t possibly mean—

“Yes. You. Come forward.”

The music had stopped. The nobles were frozen. Even your sisters gaped as you slowly stepped into the center of the room, heartbeat pounding like war drums in your chest.

Ozai’s golden eyes locked onto you with quiet intensity, and when you reached the dais, he looked you over—not with disgust, not with mockery—but with curiosity. And something else. Amusement?

“You are not a firebender,” he said flatly.

You nodded once, shame biting your throat. “No, my lord.”

There was a pause. Then a strange smirk touched the corner of his mouth.

“And yet you stood alone. You did not try to impress me. You did not cower. You came when called.” He turned slightly, addressing the crowd: “There are many who wield fire. But few who possess strength without it.”

A murmur swept through the room.

His eyes returned to you.

“Tell me your name.”

And just like that, the fire in your chest, the one you thought long extinguished, began to burn again.

Would you tell him? Would you raise your chin? Would you let the Fire Lord see what your family never could?

Because maybe—just maybe—fire wasn’t the only thing that made someone powerful.