Chapter 1

Firecrackers popped distantly in the streets below, their sharp flashes briefly illuminating curved red roofs, cobbled streets, and merchants' carts. With each bright burst, Zuko could see the outlines of tiny figures, which quickly disappeared once the firecrackers sizzled out. And just as quickly, another street was lit up. And another. Zuko leaned against the balcony, breathing in the new year's air, cool and laced with smoke. Just as the Fire Nation Capital should smell.

A louder bang broke through the medley of pops, and Zuko saw a black column rise above a building in the distance. He listened, and quickly heard the horns of the Fire Brigade. Hopefully just an accident. But with his luck…

Zuko took one last look at the city, his city, and turned to go back inside, shutting the balcony doors behind him. Enough break time.

With a few tired gestures, the candles around his desk ignited, and Zuko sunk into his armchair. He picked up the nearest scroll. Water Reclamation Projects in the Southern Islands. Fire Sages, no. Not at this hour. Zuko pushed it aside for tomorrow. Next—education reform. Vaguely aware that he was too tired for this, too, Zuko began to read a list of alterations to the Fire Nation historical curriculum. It had been drafted by a historian previously imprisoned for her "revisionist" telling of the Air Nomad genocide, but Zuko found her scholarship quite promising-

Click.A creeping feeling shivered up the back of Zuko's neck, and he turned to see the balcony door swing shut. Zuko kicked aside his chair and ignited two fire daggers. "Show yourself!" he yelled. Except for the bubble of light around his desk, the room was pitch black.

"Always so dramatic," came a voice from behind his bedframe. Zuko almost laughed. Or vomited. Always hard to choose with her.

"Azula," he said, not lowering his fire daggers but stepping closer.

"Me," she agreed. A flower of blue flame illuminated her pale face as she leaned idly on the ornate carved bedpost, toying with her fire between sharpened fingernails.

"Happy Fire Sage Day," Zuko said stupidly.

"Yes, and to think I've missed the celebrations!" Azula smiled.

She looked too thin, Zuko thought. It had only been a week since she had caused chaos in his city, had kidnapped his sister Kiyi and the other children while working with his enemies in the New Ozai Society. He knew he should hate her for that. And he did. But also-

"Remember when we used to climb the roof and watch the fireworks?" he said.

Azula's eyebrows raised. "Feeling sentimental, are you?" She laughed. "Yes, I remember. I remember yelling out into the new air that I would be Firelord. And what did you yell?"

Zuko let his flames die out and crossed his arms. She didn't seem like she was going to try to kill him in this moment, at least. "As I recall, I didn't shout at all. I didn't want to break the silence."

"Weak." Azula circled the bedframe, coming closer to Zuko. He stood his ground. An awkward silence settled, punctuated only by pops from the street.

"Why are you here?" Zuko finally asked.

"To help you."

"Fire Sages, if you say that one more-"

"I mean it, this time. Well, I always mean it. But this time, you'll want my help." Azula reached behind her waist. Zuko jumped back from the dagger or poisoned dart that was surely coming.

"Stop being so paranoid!" Azula smirked, pulling out a sheet of paper from her belt. "I told you, I accepted my fate. I will never be Firelord."

"You just want to make me a ruthless monster like Father," Zuko shot back. Like you, he could have added. But he didn't.

"Funny you should mention our dear Father," Azula said. She proffered the paper. "He's what I've come to talk to you about."

Zuko took the folded paper, opened it. Inside he just found a list of dates, towns, and names.

"What is this supposed to be?" he asked.

Azula had returned to her original spot against the bedpost while Zuko scanned the characters, and was using her blue flame to scorch new patterns into the carvings. Zuko winced.

"While working with the New Ozai Society, I ran across an old manservant of Father's. Someone who used to make Father's problems…disappear. You really should get someone like that, Zuzu." Azula winked. Frankly, he probably should, Zuko thought despite himself. Damn her.

"In any case, this manservant had interesting stories to tell. Oh-so-shockingly, it seems that our father did not live a celibate life after our mother abandoned us."

"Sages, Azula, I don't want to know—"

"But you do. Because, Zuko," she stared at him intensely. And not necessarily aggressively. Almost earnest. "We have more siblings. Of the royal line."

Zuko swallowed. He wasn't stupid. Any child of Ozai's was a potential heir to the throne. And so a threat to his own tenuous hold on it. A royal bastard, under the control of one of the old families, could be the thing to finally end Zuko's fragile reign.

"How many?" Zuko asked, glancing back down at the paper.

"Eight," said Azula.

Zuko breathed deeply. "Ages?"

"The oldest is 19. Youngest is only three."

Azula approached him again, hair seeming to eerily float in her blue light. Not for the first time, Zuko wondered if she really was some sort of spirit sent to haunt him.

"You know what you have to do, Zuko," she said, her eyes clear and focused. "For your own sake.

"You have to kill our siblings."