This is where the story of Zulieta begins.
She was a young girl born into a family that struggled under the weight of the Fire Lords ruthless rule. The Fire Kingdoms people were taxed beyond their means, forced to surrender their earnings to fuel fyroth ever-growing empire. Zulietas father, a humble worker, could not afford to pay the demanded tribute. One fateful evening, the kings enforcers arrived at their doorstep. They beat him mercilessly, their cruelty knowing no bounds. Blood stained the dirt floor of their modest home, but Zulieta was not there to witness it.
She had ventured deep into the Dark Market a hidden trading hub nestled beneath the Fire Lords grand temple, carved into the base of the volcano. She had gone there in desperation, hoping to gather enough money to pay the tax and save her family. But when she returned, the world she knew had already turned to ash.
Her home was nothing more than smoldering ruins. The lifeless bodies of her mother and father lay among the embers. Only one soul still clung to life her three-year-old sister, barely breathing amidst the devastation. Heart pounding, Zulieta scooped up the frail child and ran, her mind clouded with grief.
She reached the healers quarters, only to be met with cold rejection. By the Fire Kings decree, no aid was to be given to those who could not pay their dues. Zulieta pleaded, begged on her knees, but no one would listen. Rage and despair warred within her as she cradled her dying sister, helpless against the cruelty of the world.
.
With no choice left, she fled. Hiding from the Fire Lords eyes, she wandered through the outskirts of the kingdom, surviving on scraps. She scavenged what little food she could find, rationing it between herself and her sister. But hunger was relentless, and after two agonizing weeks, her sister succumbed to starvation.
Zulieta wept until she had no tears left to shed. She buried her sister with trembling hands, vowing that this would not be the end. Revenge burned within her heart.
Then, fate took an unexpected turn.
One evening, as she lingered in the shadows of the city, the Fire Lord himself caught sight of her. Whether it was the glow of the street torches or something within her defiant eyes, something about her fascinated him. He sent his guards to capture her.
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But Zulieta was not an easy prey.
Trained by her father in the ways of survival, she fled with unmatched speed, weaving through the labyrinth of streets. She covered her face, using the thick smoke of the city to her advantage, and disappeared into the night. She ran until her legs could carry her no further, until the scorching heat of the Fire Kingdom faded into the suffocating darkness of the unknown.
Zuleta’s legs pounded against the cracked earth, her breath shallow and her heart racing with fear. She had run for what felt like hours—through scorched lands and over thorny ground—until her body could no longer keep up with her desperation. Her legs finally gave way, and she collapsed into darkness.
When she opened her eyes, she was no longer in the burning world she had left behind.
The air was gentle here, scented faintly with herbs and woodsmoke. Soft light filtered through the cracked wooden ceiling. She was lying on a simple bed of straw, covered in a worn but warm blanket. The room around her was strange—unfamiliar wooden furniture, handwoven tapestries, and a quiet hum of life outside. It felt… peaceful.
An old woman appeared beside her. Wrinkled and grey, the woman’s eyes were sharp but kind. She leaned forward, studying Zuleta’s face as if searching for something lost. The old woman muttered something in a language Zuleta couldn’t understand—soft, melodic, ancient. She couldn’t respond, but in that moment, she knew one thing: this woman meant no harm.
Zuleta tried to rise, but her body trembled violently from exhaustion and hunger. She fell back with a sharp breath. The old woman gently helped her sit, then placed a wooden bowl filled with warm broth in her hands. It wasn’t much, but to Zuleta, it felt like a feast.
In the days that followed, she stayed in that hidden cottage. Though she could not speak the woman’s language, they began to understand one another in gestures, in shared silences, in kindness. The old woman—whom Zuleta began to think of as simply Granny—nursed her wounds and fed her warm meals. Slowly, Zuleta’s strength began to return.
She didn’t yet know where she was, or why this strange place felt like it belonged to another world altogether. But something told her she was no longer in the land of Fire. She had crossed into the edge of the unknown.
Weeks passed in quiet recovery. Zuleta’s body grew stronger, and though her spirit was still burdened by the weight of her past, she had begun to find a small sense of peace in the old woman’s cottage. But peace, as she had learned, was never permanent.
One evening, as the sun dipped below the trees, a distant rumble of boots and fire cracked through the stillness of the village. The Fire King’s soldiers had come. Whether they were hunting rebels or seeking her specifically, Zuleta did not wait to find out. Fear surged through her once again, sharper than any wound. With trembling hands and a racing heart, she fled into the shadows of the forest before the soldiers could see her.
And she didn’t stop.
For months, she journeyed deeper and deeper into unfamiliar lands. Through blistering heat, frigid nights, and the thick, wild tangle of forgotten forests, she pushed forward. Her body weakened, her clothes tattered, but her will was unbreakable. Each step carried her further from the flames of her past—further from everything she had ever known.
Eventually, the forests grew darker, quieter, colder. She had crossed into a place where the sun barely touched the ground, where even the wind dared not speak its name. It was here, at the edge of an eerie ravine carved into the earth, that she arrived at the place known in old tales as the Dark Valley.
There was no battle left in her. Her feet bled, her strength had withered, and her mind floated in the haze of exhaustion. The valley itself seemed to hum with ancient magic, a quiet lull that wrapped around her like a whispered spell.
And there, without another step, she collapsed.
The shadows of the Dark Valley embraced her.