A/N: It's been quite a while since I've conjured anything up. I don't usually like to include author notes since I feel it takes away from the neatness. There are a few things I just want to go over. This is a modern AU. Which means an alternate universe set in today's time. Italics will either be dreams, thoughts or flashbacks. It will be easy to differentiate. The dreams are meant to be confusing since they're only fragments. Lastly, it's rated for violence at the moment. If I decide to include any sort of smut I will surely let you all know! Happy reading!

"Wʜᴀᴛ ɪғ ʏᴏᴜ ғɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜʀ sᴏᴜʟ ᴍᴀᴛᴇ...ᴀᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʀᴏɴɢ ᴛɪᴍᴇ?"

My mother used to tell me stories of the ancient benders. Vivid words would drip from her mouth eloquently and dance around in my head, pictures blooming like spring. They were ordinary people most times. Some were commoners and others warriors. Many ruled over vast kingdoms, while few even went as far as mastering all four elements. The world was filled with these sorts of benders, both good and evil. Though war plagued the land for many years, times of peace always found a way to sooth the burning embers of the earth and harmony reigned. That was such a long time ago though—hundreds of years.

But the world is not what it used to be. With time, benders became scarce. There were no proper explanations. There were no reasons. Once the Avatar ceased to reincarnate, it seemed like everyone lost hope of there ever being an influx of benders again. I always wondered what it would be like to live in those times; without constant fear of bending. Since bending abilities became a thing of history, the new generations grew scared of such stories. Some even went as far as shrugging them off as myths, but then some modern benders came to light and instead of being praised for somehow regaining the ancient abilities, they were shunned and brutally beaten, causing them to go into hiding once more.

Mother said the spirits were punishing us. It was a form of revenge, taking the bending away from us. She said that we stood in the way of soul mates linking together—a union that would have brought prosperity to a damned world. There were two young lovers that were from different worlds. They were known as The Painted Lady and The Blue Spirit. Not everyone wanted them to be together though. There was always something that would separate the two—death, dishonor, betrayal. Something always stood in the way. Two soul mates that were bound to each other by fate yet were unable to be together caused a misbalance. They were sucked into a cycle of longing, forever meeting only to be ripped away from each other once more. And until those two could unite and love each other freely, the world would remain as it's become, dull.

But those were just stories. And stories were grand and all, but they aren't always true.

"Zuko." A man dressed in a crisp grey suit tapped his foot impatiently, holding the bridge of his nose as he continued to wait for any sort of response. Annoyance seemed to carve itself in his bones and radiate around him. Zuko though, was too wrapped up in his own world with his head held in his hands, eyes closed—again, to even notice. If the man hadn't known him any better he would have sworn the boy had fallen into some sort of catatonic state.

"Zuko," he said with a little more firmness in each syllable of his name. But for all that he stood, foot tapping against the marble floor, he received no response of acknowledgement. As a last resort, the man tapped Zuko's shoulder, finally able to obtain a response from the guy. "Uh, huh?" Zuko blinked, shaking whatever it was that floated in his head before he looked at his boss apologetically. "I'm sorry, sir. I was just-,"

"Daydreaming?" The man interrupted, pursing his lips in a straight line. A sheepish grin spread through Zuko then, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Zuko the dreamer, as his coworkers liked to refer to him. "Want to share what crazy story you were conjuring in that head of yours this time?" Upon finishing his question the man scrapped his wrinkly knuckles on the side of Zuko's head, earning a hearty laugh from the boy as he rubbed the area to sooth the slight throbbing pain the man's knuckles had caused. "It's nothing. I just keep dreaming of this girl. I've never met her, but I think she's important or will be. And I want to know who it is. It's driving me insane."

It was his supervisor's turn to laugh this time as his eyes crinkled along in amusement. There was a fire in the boy that impeded the man from sending him to the unemployment office. With a shake of his head, the man sighed. "Son, go home and get some decent sleep. What's going to happen when it's time for you to take over the company?" Zuko's lips turned into a straight line, amber eyes growing a shade darker as the thought rolled around in his mind. It was something he dreaded, but he couldn't let his father down, even if the man didn't care much for the boy to begin with.

"I'll be able to handle it then, uncle Iroh," he sighed wearily while he glanced up at the old man who in turn offered a warm smile. "I am sure that you will be, Zuko. I have much faith in you. A flower cannot bloom in a day's time. It must grow through stormy weather and heat first." With the final words leaving his lips, Iroh inclined his head lightly as walked away, leaving Zuko at a loss for words. He was never good at deciphering his uncle's wisdom.

A tired sigh passed Zuko's lips as he punched in the code to his loft's door. In a daze, he dropped his belongings by the door, making his way to the kitchen soon after. His stomach grumbled in protest, demanding it be fed, but the man was far too exhausted to think about food. Instead, he opted to walk into the living room and flop on the couch like a ragdoll. He sighed out once more, propping an arm under his head.

A burst of thoughts began to infiltrate his head and he could feel anxiety bubble in his stomach. Absentmindedly he wiggled his free hand's fingers as they began to grow warmer with each passing second. His eyes closed in concentration, all unwanted thoughts blocked out as the focus on his chi grew more vivid. His lips twitched up in a small grin as his eyes reopened, resting on the fingers that seemed to be engulfed by flames.

Zuko was a fire bender. His late mother discovered the ability when his child-self grew angry one night. The child went into a sudden combustion, frightening the woman. It wasn't until he suddenly stopped that she realized her son had the ancient bending abilities. She taught him to always hide his ability. If he was to remain out of harm's way, he must act like a normal person and keep the bending away from any foreign eyes. And so, he'd learned from an early age that he was very different. A light chuckle passed through his lips as he closed his eyes, the flame that once danced on his fingers now gone. Maybe that's why his father disliked him so much. Then again, it's probably the fact that his mother left them that causes the hate to stem.

He could feel his eyes grow heavier with each passing second, and before he knew it, he'd succumbed to unconsciousness as his breathing steadied and his body stilled.

The stench of blood swarmed around him like an unwanted disease. Tired eyes grew wide as he attempted to adjust to the dark lighting. "Katara!" He yelled through a hoarse throat, smoke beginning to wrap around his neck tightly, squeezing until he could no longer breathe normally, but instead gasp in desperation as his movements became sluggish against the cold, damp floor. He could feel his heartbeat grow slower. His senses were beginning to fail him in the strenuous heat. This was far too hot for even him to resist and now the only thing that he could think of was how much pain Katara was in.

A pained moan echoed through the room then. Zuko's head snapped in the direction of the familiar voice as a new shot of adrenaline coursed through his veins. He stumbled to his feet again, staggering like a drunken fool in the haze as he walked towards the source. He heaved, arms reaching out desperately as he grew closer to the girl. Her blue eyes looked up pleadingly into his. His chest clenched and he couldn't figure out if it was his heart breaking or the smoke.

Falling to his knees, he weakly drew her into his arms, causing the girl to gurgle out blood. "Katara," his voice choked back a sob as a shaky hand cupped her dirtied cheek. Tears prickled at the corners of her eyes, desperately finding a way to breathe out words that would surely be her last. The red, smeared paint on her features seemed to mix with her blood as it trailed down to cake on her clothes. Slowly her eyes lost color and he let a sob rack through his body then.

But a hand dug into his locks of hair and pulled his head back painfully. Before Zuko could react he felt a knife press against his neck and—

Golden eyes shot open, hands slapping over his neck. He breathed heavily as a thin layer of sweat clung to him. He breathed out a sigh of relief before his brows furrowed. That was the most intense dream he'd had yet. And with each passing day, those blue eyes seemed to haunt him with a deeper intensity.