Among the Ashes Part 1 [One-Hour Story]
This story was inspired by a suggestion from and is based on some of the origins and folklore of the Chinese phoenix, which differs a bit from the more Westernized version that is a symbol of reincarnation. The name "Feng Huang" is actually the traditional Chinese name for phoenix, combining the word "Feng" which is used for a male bird with that of "Huang" which is reserved for female birds. In Chinese folklore the phoenix is a symbol of the union between femininity and masculinity, similar to that of the concept of yin and yang.
For details on the "OHS" system follow this link:One-Hour Story System Rules
If you'd like to get the chance for me to bring your story ideas to life, check out my commission information below:https://www.sofurry.com/view/1351132
If you want to see the latest updates with my work, consider pledging your support over at my Patreon page where you'll get early access to more stories and illustrations before they are publicly released elsewhere!https://www.patreon.com/K9Lupus
Far from where you or I might ever venture there lived a mighty warrior, named Feng Huang. He was a fierce force in combat, striking down many soldiers and esteemed officers alike with the swift motions of his sword. Try as they might, no one had yet been able to best him in combat. Stories had been rumored about the man from the warring empires, comparing him to a god for he had never been shown to bleed. While other notable figures in his empire's army had chosen to ride their horses into combat, Feng Huang adamantly refused to ever ride his, instead calmly walking out at the head of his army and striking fear into the hearts of his enemies.
Exceeding his combat prowess was Feng Huang's joy of fighting for fighting's sake. Meeting the challenge of facing his enemies who fought for their lives with all that they had was his greatest pleasure. It wasn't until he heard the clang of metal ringing in his ears paired with the heaving breath of his combatant that Feng Huang felt truly alive.
Feng Huang was also an accomplished strategist in war, leading his empire to many victories despite being outnumbered or in unfavorable terrain. His methods were at times thought of as cruel by the soldiers under him as he would often sacrifice lives that could otherwise be spared in accomplishing the will of the empire. Still, none could dispute his flawless record and followed his leadership without waver.
One day Feng Huang was charged with leading an assault on a small village that held a tactical position for the empire. Not feeling that it necessitated his full efforts, he devised an alternative plan, taking note of the surrounding terrain. To his troops that evening he spoke:
"Tomorrow we shall not have need to draw a blade to secure victory! Instead, fire shall be our swords!"
Through the rest of the night the soldiers prepared Feng Huang's new plan exactly as he had ordered, and at first light flaming barrels of heated oil were rolled down the sloped sides of the village while a circle of flames lit just around the perimeter trapped all inside. The flames crackled and devoured all within its insatiable grasp. The soldiers rejoiced at this victory, and only when the flames had finally dispersed did Feng Huang descend down into the remains of the village to survey his handiwork. He was pleased that they would be able to begin fortifying the area by nightfall. However, his self-assurance made him blind to the boy slinking out from the husk of a burned-out cart.
The boy was covered in ash camouflaged among the destruction, and approached with slow, careful steps. Rage fumed in his eyes and when he was finally near, he aimed his dagger towards the center of Feng Huang's back. The great master of combat heard the familiar breath of war and turned in time to have the dagger sink deep below his shoulder instead and knocked the boy aside with the hilt of his blade. Blood dripped down to the ground from his wound and Feng Huang's breath came wheezy and shallow.
He stared at the boy who had done what no other warrior had been able to and approached him with staggered steps.
"I carry my whole village with me!" the boy screamed as he wiped the grey dust coating his arms. "This is our revenge for what you've taken from us!" The boy readied himself for death by the hands of the great Feng Huang but when his blade finally swung he felt a searing pain along his jaw, but still he was among the living.
"This wound will scar. It is your prize and your proof for having bested me. Take it and wear it well."
The boy was dumbfounded and at first stayed still with shaking eyes, his will for vengeance replaced now by fear.
"Go!" Feng Huang yelled through a cough of blood.
The boy nodded and ran off deeper into the village as more of the empire's troops arrived. Seeing their famed warrior gravely injured they rushed to his side and brought him to their healers. The boy's dagger had caused great internal harm, and despite their best efforts Feng Huang's condition only worsened. For a warrior to die among his fellow soldiers while not in combat was thought to bring bad luck. The other officers of the empire had gathered together for a meeting to discuss the situation and decided for Feng Huang's body to be left to the mountains and his death hidden for as long as possible. So great had been Feng Huang's influence over enemy morale that if they became aware that Feng Huang had fallen the officers unanimously agreed that a great retaliation would emerge.
Thereafter, Feng Huang was brought to the mountainside and left there on the brink of death. Laying there, he contemplated the path of his life, saw the countless battles he had fought, and most vividly saw the boy covered in the ashen will of his village.
There must be another way to live he thought as the edges of black slowly crept into his vision and blinded out the colors of the world.