Yoon was only eight when she learned of fire; the power to command and control flames awoke within her, as it had within her grandmother, and her grandmother's grandmother before her. Fire was a good friend to have, for Yoon was on a journey across Tian Xia, fleeing her old home of Minkai and heading down the coast to Hwanggot, the land her parents had left decades ago. Her flame kept her warm at night and protected her from monsters and bandits, and she had friends she met along the road to teach her survival and point her toward the next village or inn.
But on a night trekking across Hongal, the cold winds blew down from the Crown of the World, and even Yoon's flame wasn't enough to keep her warm. With precious little wood to be found on the arid steppes, Yoon broke her wooden walking club in half and set it aflame with a wave of her hand. It had been a gift from her parents, one of the last things she had left of them, and though Yoon was loath to lose it, she knew they would rather she be safe.
Sitting by the campfire, Yoon thought of them. They had been immigrants in Minkai, with precious little to sustain themselves. Her mother had been an explorer and a warrior, sacrificing time with her family to bring good coin home from jobs on the road. Her father had stayed home to work the fields and to take care of Yoon and her grandmother, though he had aspirations of becoming a court scribe. But though they had little, her family made sure Yoon's life was as happy as possible, providing a good education, the freedom of childhood, and what little presents they could afford—her favorite being a stuffed animal named Gom-Gom. Though the little toy was clearly stitched together from what mismatched, discarded pieces of other dolls her parents could buy cheaply, they had made it with love, and Yoon loved it in return (even if one of his eyes had gotten stolen by the Risucho in the Forest of Spirits).
When Yoon's mother fell in battle to monsters from the deep, her father fell too into a great depression, increasingly ground down by the ill treatment of a corrupt local government official. When Yoon’s father tried to organize a resistance, he was cut down by soldiers, and Yoon would have been as well, had her grandmother not protected her by summoning the flames, trading her life for Yoon's safe future. Now, Yoon had only Gom-Gom left. But her grandmother had told Yoon of uncles and aunts and cousins back in Hwangott, the land her family had emigrated from. Yoon would find them.
As Yoon traveled south, she grew into an experienced explorer, just like her mother had been. She fought off oni in Chu Ye, evaded the fanatical Tidecallers in Wanshou, and protected merchants from lingering spirits in the lands of Linvarre newly reclaimed from the ghosts of Shenmen. Along the way, the etiquette and poise that her grandmother had labored to teach Yoon fell away, replaced by a rugged survivalism, a brashness (and sharp tongue) learned from traveling with all sorts of miscreants, and the unassailable confidence of adolescence.
Yoon, the iconic kineticist. Art by Wayne Reynolds. In the city of Mallaru, Yoon reached the sea, and she was presented with a choice. She could continue her journey on foot, passing through yet more armies, monsters, and dangers along the road. Or she could board a passenger ship from the harbor, making her way to Hwanggot safely. The old Yoon would have balked at a journey across the water—it had almost drowned her in childhood and its monsters had taken her mother. She hesitated, for long enough that the ship cast off and began to disappear out of the harbor.
Yoon was tired. Her fear had cost her a decade. A decade spent wandering Tian Xia, and while the journey had forged her into the warrior she always wanted to become, it would keep her from her homeland no longer. Why should it? There was water in her blood just as sure as there was air in her lungs. There was metal and wood lodged forever in her skin from countless scraps along her journey. There was earth under her nails from ten years on the road. But above all else, there was fire in Yoon's heart—the fire of her family, her strongest weapon and most steadfast ally, driving her to cross half a continent to make her way home.
The heart is a gate, her grandmother had said, and as the emotion gripped Yoon, she saw for the first time what lay on the other side: a world of endless and purest flame, the Plane of Fire sharing the tiniest of its embers. Yoon felt her connection to the realm surge with the realization, and with it, her power. Fire overflowed, burning its way through Yoon's body. An explosion bloomed, blackening the cobblestones.
Yoon soared through the air in a trail of sparks, whooping with the joy of a teenager flying for the first time. The harbor grew smaller underneath her, then held in place as she reached her apex and gravity gripped her. Yoon refused to fall—she had always loved heights. She summoned her flames anew, blasting herself higher still, then again, shooting herself over the water toward the ship. She wasn't the least bit tired. The Plane of Fire was inexhaustible, so why shouldn't her flames be as well? Allowing herself to hang in the air one last time, Yoon aimed herself at the ship and struck the deck like a shooting star, the morning mist glittering in her waning sparks.
The ship would soon reach Yoon's homeland, and Yoon would then have a new adventure to set off on. She would fear nothing again.
James Case
Senior Designer
Meet the Iconics: Yoon
Wednesday, June 14, 2023
