Lian knew this would get her into the worst trouble, but her curiosity got the better of her. The village healer's handiwork was too splendid; there must be a catch. Her younger sister, Maya, was the apple of their parents' eyes, but favouritism and being second-in-line to the throne wouldn't cure the consumption that had robbed Maya of her spark and left her bedridden and frail. Even the royal physician had said it was a death sentence, for the chill had gotten into her chest and quenched her fire, and he had never been wrong until now. But after the visit to the village healer, Maya went from hollow-cheeked and deathly frail to plump and lively in just one week. That healer couldn't possibly just be that; she must be a witch or a heretic to boot. Nobody could resurrect a near-dead child from the grips of consumption that had swept across the kingdom and killed thousands.

When her parents, the king and queen, left the heart of the royal city to discuss politics — once again — with the ambassadors from the neutral, neighbouring country, Lian took her chance. She changed out of her stiff silk dress and clunky quilted shoes into soft-soled ones and thick black tunic and trousers she'd stitched herself, based on the clothing the delivery boys wore. She braided her dark brown hair back into a plait and wrapped it around her head before slipping the hood on and sat on the slate rooftop, poised. Her parents left in the king's carriage ago, gilded window panes and shiny glass windows and all disappearing through the sweeping, golden doors that separated the inner and outer royal city. They didn't stop by her mansion to bid goodbye. They never did.

Guards patrolled around all the mansions, but she'd memorised their paths. One always took a toilet break within an hour of relieving the day guards outside her mansion, leaving her path empty for five minutes. On cue, the groans of an ageing man reached her ears through the thin, wooden windows and he shuffled into the night.

Clad in all black, Lian swung over the edge and scaled down the vines outside. She'd done it so many times in the past it was second nature where every rut and crevice was. The leaves rustled with her descent, but the wind carried a gentle breeze, muffling the sounds of her movement. It was the only way to avoid her handmaidens, who slept in the tiny rooms outside her bedchamber. She reached the ground and paused. No footsteps. Candles within wall-mounted lanterns threw dancing shadows on the ground. The moon shone bright and silver, bathing her in an inconveniently obvious glow. She might as well have mimicked the fireflies that flourished with summer.

"Princess Lian?" The voice of a bewildered servant made her groan aloud. She spun around, eyes falling on one of her manservants that did all the heavy labour and errands for her mansion. He clutched stacks of paper in his hands, which he hurriedly set aside, shook his long blue sleeves down, and knelt, forehead touching the ground. "Servant to see Princess Lian, blessed be."

"Get up!" she hissed, flapping at him. The grand gesture would give her away.

"But... what are you doing here, my lady?"

"Shush, Emiru!" She glanced around. The guard hadn't made his way back yet. She had perhaps several minutes. "I'm... I'm taking a walk!"

"At this hour? Dressed like a commoner?" Emiru appeared even more confused, getting up. "If it's your chamberpot you're seeking—"

"No!" It was all she could do to not sprint over and slam a hand over his mouth. He spoke at a normal volume; in the middle of the night, he might as well be broadcasting her presence. Guards would come dashing over with their spears and swords within minutes. "I'm... I'm on an errand, all right?"

"Anything I can help with?" he said with the eagerness of an eight-year-old child, even though Lian was sure he must be in his twenties. He then shook his head, realising what he'd said. "I mean, no, my lady! You can't go cavorting with peasants in the dead of the night!"

"You have quite the overactive imagination," Lian said dryly. Time was running out. The guard would not take so kindly to her being out of bed at this hour, even if she were the first princess of Chiang. "But both you and I will be in lots of trouble if we're caught, so I suggest you pretend you never saw me."

She spun around and dashed. Emiru let out half a cry, which he quickly swallowed, realising how far his voice travelled. Lian flew with feather-light feet across the mansion grounds, leaving the boundaries for the Cherry Blossoms Mansion. Moments later, as she'd expected, the long, cumbersome cart carrying wasted food from the day's feast rocked by the main cobbled road, smelling of cold, greasy meat. Emiru followed behind. Lian bit back a snap; they'd be discovered if she yelled at him now. She had to lose him. Darting in the shadows at maximum speed, she tore alongside the cart, slipping out of the shadows at the last possible moment and leaping onto the back ledge. Any later, she would be spotted by the guards of the inner royal city main doors. The horses trotted on, their handler oblivious to the extra passenger. Her lungs burned with the effort. Sweat trickled in a most unseemly fashion down her face.

"What are you doing, my lady?" hissed Emiru from behind. Lian almost screamed and fell off. Emiru's arm shot out and grabbed hers, keeping a steel hold. He released her once she got her balance and crept back, mortified. "My most humble apologies for touching you, my lady! I didn't want you to—"

"Shut up!"

She clamoured over the edge of the cart into the inners, squeezing herself between the wooden boxes. The royal guards of the boundary between the inner and outer city were some of the best. They prevented deadly assassins threatening the royal line and hopeless peasants with falsified declarations of their royal ties from breaching the sacred grounds. Dressed the way she was, Lian would likely be shot on sight on suspicions of being a traitor. She crept deeper in-between the containers of discarded food, too used to the stink by now to gag, and pursed her lips when Emiru followed suit. Through the slits of the cart, the sight of the royal guards standing at alert passed by. None of them suspected the stowaways onboard.

Lian hopped off once they were sufficiently out of bounds of the inner royal city. Emiru stuck close to her like an irritating mosquito. She swiped at him and he bounced out of range before creeping back again. When the trees overhead thickened to the point where it was tough to see, Lian pulled out flint and steel and a paper lantern with a candle she kept in her small pack and drew a spark. Their way was bathed in a warm yellow glow.

"I must insist you stop this madness, my lady," he said in a hushed voice. Lian glared at him and he wilted, his eyes and cheeks appearing hollow in the candlelight.

"You chose to follow me! What I do in my own time is not your business!"

"You are first to the throne! If anything happens to you, the kingdom of Chiang is in grave danger!"

She scoffed. "My beloved sweetheart of a sister Maya is the better choice for succession anyway. It's not like my parents would care if I were to go missing."

"That's preposterous, my lady. They care. They care deeply."

Of course, a manservant would say that, Lian thought to herself, turning to march ahead. Maya was the favourite child, the demure, ladylike, obedient sixteen-year-old princess who epitomised royalty. Lian, at twenty years old, was wild, aggressive, and spoke her mind freely, much to the chagrin of her parents. You'd never make queen, they kept telling her, hoping more royal tutors would squeeze some dignity or propriety into her. But Lian hated the elocution and gameplays the royal family engaged in. Backstabbing by second and third wives, poisonings of babies to secure their own offsprings in the line of succession — the politics disgusted her. But, of course, criticism of that went unheard. It was unladylike and un-royal to voice personal opinions, after all.

"They cared more about Maya. And I care about this witch they saw." Lian increased her pace. Emiru kept up, surprisingly not tripping over the hidden roots and snagging bushes along the way. "There's no way consumption can be cured that quickly."

"Curiosity is not always the correct instinct to follow, my lady."

Lian ignored him. "Her powers are quite renowned. Cousin Shian couldn't produce an offspring, and after a visit, she has had a child every summer now, and she is again with child. Maya was supposed to die from that illness, and now it's as if she was never sick. There has to be a catch."

"You could order your servants to investigate, my lady! You don't have to dirty your hands!"

"I did, and they came up with nothing. Just told me tales of how the local villagers all go to her for healing. Crippled folk, deadly chills, folk who couldn't have children — she healed them all. I can do my mathematics, Emiru. You can't keep adding without subtracting. Is she a witch? Magician?"

Her servants gave her instructions on how to find this healer. She knew she had to do it herself when all of them returned with nothing but praise for this mysterious woman. The thick trees overhead parted, revealing a star-spotted night. Moonlight crept through the branches, illuminating a spot in the middle of the clearing. A stone hut sat in the light, flames dancing in its window. Lian extinguished her candle, and paused, waiting for everything to cool down before she stashed it away again. She crouched in the shadows. A baby's cry echoed into the night, frail, punctuated by the desperate sobs of an older woman, likely her mother.

"Please, great healer. I have lost many children to consumption and this boy is likely the last I can have. My older ones are all girls. I'd do anything. Please save him."

"There is a great cost to working miracles," came the rasping voice of the healer. It sent shivers down Lian's spine. There it was: the catch. "Lives cannot be bought or sold; they can only be traded, one for one."

"Have any of my older children; I don't care. This boy, if he lives, can inherit everything we own when we pass the age of resting. Otherwise, it will all return to my husband's family and we will starve to death."

The woman's words sparked rage in Lian. The preference of boys over girls in the commoner's world was the norm; boys could work in fields and herd cows, whereas girls lacked the strength and endurance. Boys were worth more, could earn more, and led families. Lian was lucky such rules did not affect her. Her brothers died young and her father was the sole survivor of the war with the kingdom of Mongku decades ago. Otherwise, she would become even more easily discarded.

"Give me your blood, and tomorrow I shall provide you with a concoction for the child to drink. He will flourish and lead his family."

"Thank you, great healer." The woman's voice choked up with tears. "Thank you."

She left, hurrying into the shadows back to her home.

Lian crept across the clearing, ignoring Emory's gasp. Slipping deft hands onto the stone bricks that jutted out of the hut, she eased herself up until she could peek through the windows of the healer. The old woman, back bent with age and joints gnarly with wear, lowered herself to the ground, mumbling a chant all the while. Before her was a tiny vial of crimson liquid. The fire flickered with a ferocity unlike any Lian had ever seen.

The healer threw a handful of herbs, followed by another handful of fine powder. Her low chanting became a dull hum. The flames turned white, and then blue, and finally, black. Black flames. Lian had read about it when she'd ventured into the library's forbidden section instead of attending Master Lu's tea setting session. Black flames were the signature of Huogwai, the spurned fire god who was cast out of the heavens for devouring humans to gain power. His presence destroyed countries and felled kingdoms with raging flames, and such demonic fire was revered by Mongku priests.

Worshipping him marked one as a heretic and executable by the country of Chiang. She was no healer. She was his disciple, and through sacrifices of lives, his powers manifested within her.

The black flames formed into the scaled, dragon-like appearance of the fallen god as told in the myths, with piercing green eyes — and glared directly at Lian. She gasped, spinning around to flee, and her hand slipped. With a shriek, she crashed to the ground, landing in a heap. The door to the hut slammed open. The old healer moved with greater agility than expected for someone of her physique. Horror etched into the deep lines of her face.

"You saw, didn't you?" her voice turned deep, demonic. "You saw Huogwai?"

Before Lian could protest or scream, the woman transformed into black smoke, her eyes turning green. The smoke hovered in the air, and dived straight down Lian's throat, suffocating her.