The night fell and with it came darkness. The moon did not shine that night and the stars far above shone with thin, cold light. So dim was it that the snow did not reflect or sparkle in its reflection. The snow stretched in all directions, so far that its end could not be seen. Far in the distance a few trees dotted the horizon, but nothing more. The top of it had hardened to form a thin layer of ice. The frost was complete and unbroken as nothing had passed this way in so long.
Until tonight.
He walked slowly, his steps heavy and weary. The ice broke with each of his footfalls into shards that scraped against his shoes. Onward he walked until his broken body would support himself no more and he collapsed onto his side.
For a long while he lay there, unwilling to move even to save even himself. He had nothing. He was nothing. He would never be anything again. He would never have the things he loved ever again.
A hand closed on his shoulder. Through the painfully thin cloth of his clothes he could feel the warmth of it against his skin. He did not move, he did not look up. He could not think to look at the face he was somehow certain was above him.
The hand moved and touched his face, lifting it ever so gently. He followed its movements without trying to hold back. When he raised his amber eyes he saw a face so perfect he could not look away. She simply was every form of perfection imaginable. At first he thought he imagined her standing there in the starlight, his mind playing tricks on him. He cast such thoughts away knowing that this must be a spirit watching him.
"You were right." She said, "No matter what anyone says or will do you were right."
"I know." After so many days of wandering the sound of his own voice, dry and cracked from lack of water and use, sounded strange and distorted to him. "I will always know. And I will continue to do what is right."
She leaned forward and kissed him gently. Warmth and life passed through his body and he found the strength to stand, the will to live, the desire to fight on. He looked to the south where the life he led was left behind so tragically. He knew what he had to do, the very thing he should have done long ago and would do now.
Amon was gone, he betrayed the equalists he raised from the shadows. But there were still those that believed bending was the scourge of the world, the cause of all wrong with it. Amon had only made things worse in the bender's names. Now the equalists were scattered, but they needed someone to re-unite them. A new leader. A better leader. He would be that leader.
The revolution would live on!