The wheels of the imperial carriages groaned as they cut deep grooves into the sand. Their lacquered rims, painted gold and crimson, strained with each roll through the soft dunes. Red silk banners snapped in the wind, curling with heat from the midday sun. The desert was alive, though not with kindness. This was the kingdom of Yanhuang, where even the wind could scar.
Caravans in the west were not rare, but this was no common journey. The convoy stretched like a serpent of painted wood and silk, winding across the golden sea. At its heart were the carriages of the royal consorts of House Baishen, wives of the Flame King, on pilgrimage to the Shrine of Eternal Ember. Though Yanhuang was known for its arid wastelands, it was more than sand. Deeper within its borders, the terrain shifted. There were red cliffs that bled ash, mountains that spat fire, and valleys where molten rivers pulsed like veins through the earth. The fire god's breath dwelled there. But here on the edge, there was only the wind and the dust.
Each carriage bore the sigil of its occupant, embroidered onto heavy silken curtains. Gold thread shimmered like dancing fire over black lacquer. One carriage, however, stood taller than the rest. Its wood was dark sandalwood, carved with phoenixes in flight. Red tassels trailed from its corners like tongues of flame. Jade wind chimes tinkled softly from its eaves, and the insignia upon it was stitched in silver.
This was the carriage of the First Wife, Lady Baishen Xuelian, noble-born and pale as lotus petals. Her beauty had once been compared to the first snow upon a burning mountain. Now her face was flushed with the heat of late pregnancy. Her hands rested atop the curve of her belly, which rose like the swelling of a tide. Across from her sat her five-year-old daughter, Baishen Huali, a lively child with eyes like spring water and a voice that never seemed to rest.
"Mother, will the fire god speak to you today?" Huali chirped, swinging her small feet. "Will he say if my brother is to be a prince or a dragon?"
Xuelian gave a soft laugh, then winced as the child bounced too hard.
"Careful, hua'er. The baby might decide to come early if you shake him too much," she said with affection. "And no, the god does not speak in words. He shows signs. Flames that curl in a certain shape. Smoke that clings. The high priestess will know."
Madam Chen, her chief maid, sat beside her in silence. She was middle-aged, with a lined face and shrewd eyes, dressed in blue robes edged in red, her rank signified by the silver phoenix pin fastened at her collar. She had served Xuelian since her marriage into the royal family, and though her tongue could cut like a sword, she was loyal to the end.
As Huali pressed her face against the silk curtains, the carriage gave a violent jolt and then came to a full stop. The chimes outside clanged sharply.
Madam Chen steadied her mistress at once. "Stay seated, my lady. I will find out what has happened."
Xuelian nodded and waved her hand. "Go quickly. This heat is not good for us."
Chen stepped down from the carriage with practiced grace, her embroidered slippers sinking into the sand. Wind lifted the hem of her robe. She moved past the other carriages until she came upon another woman stepping down as well. This one was dressed in deep purple robes, her sleeves embroidered with swirling clouds. A plum blossom hairpin glinted in her bun. Her name was Yanmei, personal maid to the Second Wife, Lady Baishen Ruyin.
Yanmei's eyes narrowed the moment she saw Chen.
"Still playing nursemaid to a woman who cannot even birth a son without collapsing?" she said under her breath.
"And you still trail after a wife whose greatest talent is pretending to faint," Chen replied coolly.
Before their quarrel could ignite further, both women turned as a black stallion neighed nearby. A tall man dismounted with the ease of one who had lived more years in the saddle than behind a desk. His armor was lacquered in black and gold, etched with flames curling along the sleeves. A crimson sash hung at his waist, and from his shoulder, a bird of sand settled with a gust.
The creature was shaped like an eagle, yet its feathers were made of ever-shifting grains. Its eyes glowed faintly, and as it landed, the wind fell still.
This was no ordinary bird. It was a spirit companion, known in ancient tongues as lingzhun, a creature born from the soul of its bonded master. In this world, some humans shared their lives with these beings, and through that bond, gained power. Others were chosen by the gods, blessed directly with divine gifts. A rare few bore both blessings, but such beings were viewed with awe and fear, for divine favor was a force greater than any mortal spirit.
The eagle spirit tilted its head and whispered words only its master could hear.
The man it spoke to was General Wei Longxu, Commander of the Western Flame Guard. His beard was trimmed short, his eyes dark as obsidian. He had fought in three border wars and once rode alone into a volcano to slay a spirit beast threatening the valley folk. He was a man of iron wrapped in fire.
He looked to the two maids.
"There is a storm coming," he said. "A great one. My lingzhun saw it circling not far beyond the next ridge. If we move forward, we will be caught in it."
Yanmei's lip curled. "Our ladies cannot sleep on sand like beggars. My mistress has fragile lungs."
Chen stepped forward. "And the First Wife is with child. She cannot stay exposed in this heat."
Longxu's gaze turned sharp.
"If they enter the storm, they will not have lungs to breathe or a child to save. We camp here. That is my command."
The wind returned just as swiftly as it had stopped, kicking dust between them. The two women gave each other one final scowl before parting.
Chen returned to her lady's carriage with quiet steps. She leaned in and whispered the news to Xuelian, who only sighed and looked out toward the red horizon. Huali still played with her jade bracelets, unaware that the skies ahead had begun to turn.