There's….there's so much of it…. it's everywhere….

He's stunned into a silence as he stares at the dark red smear on the hardwood floor, trailing off into the backroom. His first thought is of his wife, which prompts his feet to stumble forward. He steps over the dark stain, the moonlight behind him reflecting off of the liquid. He can hear his heart slam in his chest, worried it would give him away to whomever be in the house. When was the last time he felt this much fear, an overwhelming emotion that threatened to turn him from man to mouse? He felt his body tremble in anticipation as he drew near the closed door of their bedroom, a hand print on the lower wall and one on the door frame, this one much larger than the other. He could only assume it belonged to the intruder.

There was so much… so much everywhere… how could someone survive this? He pushed the thought from his mind. No… no, she had to be alright. She had to be… there was no other way… Taking a deep breath, he pushed the door open slowly and froze at the sight.

There… there was so much… so much everywhere….

The lamp in the room was knocked over on its side, casting eerie shadows on the walls. He could see the trail lead from the floor to the bed, sheets once white now forever stained a crimson red. There were splatters on the wall above the headboard, on the picture frame of their wedding on the bedside table. But it was her that made his heart stop. Her body, so strong and beautiful now broken and frail, resting on top of the sheets with her head turned away from him. Bile rose in the back of this throat, bringing with it the strong and rancid taste of his meal an hour earlier. He forced himself to step closer, silently praying to whatever Spirit above who had not turned against him that she be alright, to let him take her place. He came closer, his movements stiff and uncoordinated as he raised his shaking hand to turn her head towards him, releasing her cold flesh as if it burned him.

Oh no…. oh Gods no….

Her face… Agni, her face… tanned skin was covered in deep gashes, all connected to create an intricate and nightmarish design that he had not seen in many years. Her eyes, once full of fire and love, now stared up at him blankly and hollow, pale as the moon outside.

'Beautiful, isn't it? I thought it would be fitting for a final touch.'

Blue eyes widened at the voice from his past, one that he had desperately tried to leave behind. He looked up from his wife to the opposite corner to see a figure slip out of the shadows, its face hidden by the dark cloak it wore. He could smell smoke mixing with the summer air, making the bile rise in his throat again. He choked on a cry as the figure lifted its head and moved closer, seeming to almost glide across the floor and leaving a thick black vapor-like trail behind it.

Pale. Its face was pale, lips that didn't move when it laughed softly and almost mockingly, and the large mark on its forehead was sloppy and running down its brow, as if it had just been painted on. But it was the eyes. They reminded him of staring into two endless chasms filled with an evil not seen by the world in years.

'Y-you're…. you're not real.' He had remembered seeing that face disappear under the waters of the city long ago, so why was it coming back to haunt him now?

'Real? I'm as real as they come, boy. I am more real than I ever was, and you should know. You created me, gave me life, and when we were just beginning to rise to the top of the world what did you do? You cast me aside like a broken toy and for what? For this?' It reached for her, grazing the back of its hand along her bloodied jaw, a think tendril of the dark mist following one of the scratches along her cheek.

'You… you bastard! Why did you do this!?' He shouted, lashing out and grabbing a fistful of the others cloak. There came a raspy laugh from behind the mask, like small pebbles being thrown against a glass. He snarled and backhanded the stoic face, watching as the mask fell to the bed.

'Me? You damn fool, have you forgotten the very rule you preached all those years ago? You can't kill an idea.' The smoke drifted out of the cloak and wrapped around him, caressing his flesh like an intimate lover that sent a cold trickle of fear down his spine. It took on his form, shrouding him in darkness and spreading up to his face, sealing his mouth to silence his scream of pain as his flesh tore across his face, mimicking the outlines of the mask staring up at him from the bed next to his dead wife…

….who moved. Blue eyes widened and he tried to shake his head in denial as he watched her rise from the bed and cup his face. He reached out to push her away, his hands wrapping around her throat tightly. She opened her mouth and hiss into the dead of the night.

'There is no running from who you truly are, Noatak…'

—

"….Noa….Noa….Noatak stop!"

The waterbender blinked, coming to his senses. Staring up at him with panicked eyes lay his wife of three years, clawing at his hands and face as he held her down on the mattress by her neck. Quickly he released her, moving back to the other side of the bed and gasping in shaky breaths.

It was a dream. Spirits, it was just a dream. Korra coughed next to him, one hand massaging her bruised neck while she sat up slowly and stared at the obviously distraught man next to her.

"What happened?" She asked softly, not bothering to cover up her bare form with the sheets. When he didn't answer Korra grew more concerned for her husband and reached out to him, resting a hesitant hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, come on. What happe—" He didn't give her time to finish, grabbing her and pulling the Avatar into his lap, his strong arms encasing her in an embrace.

"You… you were— and I had…. oh Gods, Korra." His voice caught on a sob as he buried his face in the crook of her neck, his shoulders shaking heavily. The yougn woman was startled by his unexpected breakdown, never before having seen the other in such a vulnerable state. As much as she wanted to get to the bottom of the situation, she knew he needed her first. So she held him close and let him weep for a nightmare that could have just as easily become a reality, running her fingers through his short hair softly as the night wore on.