The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 20: Smoke Before Landfall

The morning sea rolled beneath them like a living thing, deep and iron-grey, with whitecaps shattering against the prow of the black-hulled ship as it surged toward the coastline. The Fire Nation banner snapped violently overhead, the wind carrying with it the scent of ash.

Nan-Hai’s jagged shoreline came into view just after dawn, a mountainous horizon torn between jungle green and cliff-shadowed brown. The waters here were known to be dangerous, sharp reefs, unpredictable tides. But now, even before they reached the first harbor tower, something else fouled the air.

Smoke.

Rising. Curling black.

Not chimney smoke. Not coal.

Burning wood. Oil. Flesh.

Rin leaned over the starboard rail, his sharp eyes narrowing.

“Well, that’s not ominous at all.”

Zuko stood beside him, arms folded, face unreadable. The wind tugged at his long coat. Behind them, sailors scurried to position, no official order had been given yet, but men had a way of sensing tension in their commander’s silence.

“I told you,” Rin added. “You slip out of the Capital in the dead of night like a thief and show up a week later, Kuvak’s going to be waiting with a scroll in one hand from your father and a saber in the other.”

Zuko exhaled once through his nose. “He can ask his questions.”

“Sure,” Rin said, “but I doubt he’ll like your answers. Neither will she.”

That pulled a faint twitch from Zuko’s brow. Rin smirked.

“You think Azula’s going to just greet you with open arms and a fruit basket?”

“I think,” Zuko said coolly, “she’ll wait until nightfall to poison me.”

Lee stepped up from behind them, arms folded behind his back, perfectly composed despite the rock of the deck.

“We may also need a unified statement regarding our delay.”

“There will be no statement,” Zuko said.

Lee raised a brow. “In that case, I suggest we each recite a different version. The illusion of incompetence is sometimes more effective than conspiracy.”

Rin chuckled. “That’s… honestly not a bad idea.”

But the humor died quickly.

Because by now the smoke was thick, and screams, faint at first, were riding the wind.

Zuko turned sharply toward the portside bay, his golden eyes narrowing.

In the distance, the Fire Nation side of the Nan-Hai port was visible, barely. The docks were choked in dust, flames, and moving figures too chaotic to track from this range. Explosions bloomed between the silhouettes of warehouses. Bolts of earth shot from the ground. Fire lit the sky.

It wasn’t a raid.

It was a siege.

Zuko’s expression didn’t change but something in the air around him did.

“Looks like we’re under attack,” he muttered.

“From who?” Lee asked, stepping forward. “I thought this side belonged to the Fire Nation.”

Zuko didn’t answer right away. He raised a hand instead, high and sharp.

“Battle stations!” he bellowed.

The crew responded instantly, training kicked in before thought. Banners lowered. Armor was buckled. Catapults were prepped.

“I’ll get Hinaro,” Lee said, already turning for the hatch below deck.

Zuko nodded once. “Make sure she’s armed. And angry.”

Lee didn’t need to be told twice.

As the ensign vanished down the stairs, Zuko turned to Rin, who was already unslinging his bow from the side mount.

“Estimate?” Zuko asked.

“Too chaotic for numbers. But it’s not just bandits. I’m seeing organized formations.”

Zuko’s jaw clenched. “Earth Kingdom?”

“Definitely. And someone’s directing them.”

The warship surged forward, slicing through the waves. Already, ships in the harbor were sinking, smoke trailing up from their shattered masts. A Fire Nation supply vessel crumpled at the front, a massive earth spike skewering its midsection.

Zuko’s fists tightened at his sides.

So this was his welcome.

Not Kuvak. Not Azula. Not an intense interrogation of his wherabouts this past few 50 hours.

But battle.

Perfect.

He turned toward the bridge crew, voice calm but commanding.

“Prepare for immediate landing. Secondary dock approach. Clear a fireline with mid-range artillery. I want the southern piers open for deployment.”

“Aye, Prince Zuko!”

As men rushed to execute the order, Zuko returned his gaze to the burning shoreline.

The Fire Nation side of Nan-Hai, the supposedly secure side, was a furnace of war.

And he had arrived right on time.

The deck beneath his boots vibrated with movement. Orders were shouted, armor clanked, and steam hissed from the belly of the ship as the catapults rotated and prepared to fire.

Zuko didn’t move.

He stood at the prow, the sea wind pressing against his front, the blackened docks of Nan-Hai rising ahead like a war-soaked mural. The chaos of battle was already devouring the port: fire met stone, screams met silence, smoke met sky.

And he could feel it.

The pull.

The old ache behind his ribs that had been stirring since before. Since before Kyoshi.

Since before he had been born into this world.

It’s been too long, he thought.

He turned toward Rin, who was already setting up bowmen along the upper deck railing.

“I’m heading to the front,” Zuko said calmly.

Rin looked up, surprised but not enough to argue immediately. “You’re going down there alone?”

Zuko gave a faint smirk. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“You should wait for backup. The port’s a warzone…”

“I’ll see it for myself.”

Rin’s brow furrowed. “At least take a full unit…”

Zuko raised a hand to cut him off. “You’re in command while I’m gone.”

The archer’s lips parted for another objection. But then he saw it.

The gleam in Zuko’s eyes. The restraint thinning at the edges.

He sighed.

“Try not to die,” Rin muttered. “We just got here.”

Zuko turned away from him and faced the coastline again. But this time, his posture changed.

His back straightened.

His breathing slowed.

He drew in air through his nose, slow and deep, like he was drinking the heat itself.

He closed his eyes.

And the world quieted.

Behind the veil of sound and flame and chaos, he found her.

The Sun.

High above. Unbothered. Radiant.

She warmed the crown of his head. Kissed the back of his neck. Filled his lungs like divine fire.

He smiled faintly.

“…Thank you,” he whispered to nothing in particular. Perhaps whatever move of luck that he did in his past life that resulted him being born in the body of this boy Prince.

Then, with a sharp exhale, Zuko shifted his feet. The motion was simple, one knee bent, hips turning.

He dropped his center of gravity…

…then launched.

In a burst of blazing heat, fire exploded from the soles of his boots, a twin rocket of orange and gold that cracked the air like thunder. The ship’s deck beneath him scorched black in an instant. The wind roared past his face as he shot into the sky like a comet.

Sailors below gasped. One of them dropped his pike in stunned silence.

Zuko soared upward. The port blurred beneath him. Flames. Collapsing towers. Stone walls. Soldiers clashing in narrow alleys.

And then, he began to descend.

He angled his feet downward and redirected the flow of flame beneath him, twisting mid-air. The boost turned into a controlled arc, propelling him across the final stretch of ocean like a missile.

The ground rushed up to meet him.

And then…

Impact.

He slammed into the earth with the force of a falling dragon, knees bent, one fist driven into the cracked stone ground to stabilize his landing. A concussive shockwave of heat and debris erupted outward, dust lifting in a massive ring.

Everything within ten feet shook.

For a breath, the battlefield froze.

Fire Nation soldiers, already in retreat near the collapsed storehouses, stopped mid-motion. Earthbenders holding makeshift barricades paused, eyes wide.

And then he stood.

The Prince of the Fire Nation.

Cloak burning at the hem.

Eyes glowing.

Face stone calm.

He shifted his stance, a perfect firebending form. Left foot forward, back foot pivoted, arms drawing wide. His elbows aligned like the stroke of a master calligrapher. Then…

He struck.

A massive crescent arc of flame surged from his outstretched arms. It burned like a wave across the front line, ejecting three Earth Kingdom fighters from cover, sending them crashing into nearby crates and overturned carts. A fourth tried to brace with an earthen wall, too late. The flames split and curved around the shield, slamming him from both sides with a burning shock.

Zuko advanced, every step deliberate.

Another earthbender charged, flinging a jagged boulder directly toward his chest.

Zuko spun left, let the stone pass behind his shoulder, then countered with a whip of fire from his right heel as he turned. The flame traced a perfect line across the enemy’s chestplate, igniting his vest and sending him reeling.

Another soldier lunged with a hammer of compressed stone. Zuko ducked, grabbed the weapon’s shaft mid-swing, and channeled fire up his forearm, the weapon melted in the soldier’s grip before he was kicked back by a searing blast to the torso.

By now, the Fire Nation troops had rallied behind him.

They surged forward, morale reignited.

Zuko didn’t stop moving.

He became a storm.

Every gesture a burn, every pivot a blast. When he moved, the earth shook, not from his strength, but from the commanding rhythm of his motion. He was a firebender trained in the palace but now moved like something else entirely.

Something older.

Something more dangerous.

And yet…

Deep inside his chest, a voice whispered:

Firebenders vs. Earthbenders.

Finally.

A dream from another life.

A fantasy made real.

He didn’t speak it aloud, he never would.

But he felt it.

This was what he had always wanted.

The last of the Earth Kingdom soldiers within the harbor perimeter fled into the smoke, scattering over the ruined stonework. Some were dragging wounded. Others limped. None of them looked back.

Zuko exhaled slowly.

Steam rose off his forearms, his breath thick from exertion. Around him, Fire Nation troops stumbled forward, some limping, others bloodied, all wide-eyed at what they’d just witnessed. But none spoke.

Not until a younger soldier, face soot-streaked, helmet cracked, stepped up and dropped to one knee.

“My prince,” he panted, “we didn’t know you were arriving this soon.”

Zuko turned to him, his expression unreadable. “Who’s in command here?”

The soldier rose and gestured behind him. “That would be Lieutenant Commander Donji, sir. He has been overseeing port operations until your arrival.”

Zuko didn’t flinch. “Where is Kuvak?”

A voice answered from behind.

“Harbor repairs. Up the coast.”

Zuko turned and saw him.

Donji.

A man in his early thirties, his armor dusted but not cracked. Short-cropped black hair, streaked faintly with early grey, a square jaw, and a nose that looked like it had been broken at least twice. His eyes were sharp, not angry, not afraid, just measuring.

He saluted. “Lieutenant Commander Donji. Welcome to Nan-Hai, your highness.”

Zuko stepped forward. “Where is Kuvak?”

Donji’s voice remained even. “The main fleet was hit by a rogue storm before entering the province. Admiral Kuvak made the decision to shelter at Base Kuei-Ta along the northern coast. Last message estimated repairs would be done in 48 hours.”

Zuko’s gaze narrowed.

Donji added, “Princess Azula remained with the Admiral.”

Zuko didn’t respond to that. Not yet.

Instead, he glanced around the battlefield, the broken walls, shattered carts, smoldering flags.

“You’re relieved.”

Donji blinked. “Sir?”

“I’m assuming command of all Nan-Hai Fire Nation operations. Effective immediately. All communications, strategy, and reinforcements go through me. Is that understood?”

There was a moment’s pause.

Donji’s jaw tightened, but he bowed without hesitation. “Yes, Prince Zuko.”

Zuko gave a small nod, then swept his gaze across the smoke again.

“How long has this been going on?”

“Two days,” Donji answered grimly. “Hit-and-run attacks at first. Then coordinated charges. They took out our watchtowers and disrupted the docks. Half our artillery was buried by a landslide before it ever fired. We’ve sent for help.”

“To who?”

“General Rulo. He’s posted near the Jade Pass. We sent two messengers. Neither returned. We think the lines are compromised.”

Zuko’s eyes narrowed. “Then assume no help is coming.”

Donji nodded. “We’ve been holding what we can.”

Zuko folded his arms. “And who’s leading them?”

Donji opened his mouth to answer…

But a voice beat him to it.

A booming voice, heavy as thunder and twice as raw, echoed across the harbor.

“I am.”

The words struck the air like a drumbeat.

Then the ground shifted.

From the far edge of the rubble-strewn courtyard, the earth cracked and pillars of stone rose like ancient gods awakening. One, then three, then seven, forming a platform of hardened stone.

And then…

Something landed on it.

The impact thundered across the port. Soldiers stumbled back. A nearby tent collapsed from the aftershock.

Dust lifted.

Even Zuko took half a step back, instinct pulling at him.

And then the dust cleared.

He stood there.

General Fong.

Seven feet tall, if he was an inch. Towering. Bare-chested, save for the thick leather straps crisscrossing his torso. His skin was bronzed from sun and war. A single green wrap skirt hung around his waist, the cloth tied at the left hip with a thick emerald sash. He wore no shoes, his feet gripped the earth like claws.

His body rippled with muscle, each one coiled like stone carved by a storm.

A jagged scar ran from his shoulder to his ribs, pale against the rest of him.

He crossed his arms.

“So,” he called out, voice like shifting mountains. “The boy prince finally joins the battle.”

Zuko stepped forward, his gaze cold, shoulders squared.

“General Fong. Long time…”

His voice was low. Controlled. Lethal.

The general grinned, teeth like broken white stone.

“Not bloody well long enough,” he replied.

And the war resumed.

[A/N: Read 15 to 20 chapters ahead available right now on .com/saiyanprincenovels.com.]