Chapter 1

Prince Zuko walked forward with burdened steps. His mind was clouded from his emotions colliding. Hopelessness, rage, and hope. It had begun three years ago, when his own father had banished him from his home, casting him out from his rightful place. He had always kept that turmoil at bay, with intense purpose, purpose that left no time for the introspection that his uncle favored. These days though, he felt like he had no purpose anymore.

He had been so close. Despite having his ship confiscated, despite almost being murdered by Zhao, despite having his prize behind the fortified walls of a city that took an entire fleet to assault, despite everything, he had done it. The Avatar, the Fire Nation's greatest enemy, had been his prisoner because he had overcome those obstacles. And with that triumph was the promise of redemption. But it had all been for nothing. The Avatar had escaped from him, because he could not stop him. Then, Azula, the sister he loathed, had come to him in person just to arrest him. He just knew she was still out there somewhere, hunting him. He wasn't just an outcast from his country. He was a fugitive.

Zuko banished his melancholy thoughts as he neared his destination. The trees in front of him thinned. He stood at the edges of a slight gorge. The drop wasn't long enough to be dangerous to him, but gave him a perfect view of the road ahead. From here, he could spot travelers from afar and be unseen. He had found it a while ago, and used it once. He would see what it would bring him this time. Zuko laid himself flat against the ground and waited.

Constantly watching both sides of the road was tedious work, and as the sun above him shifted, unwanted thoughts nibbled at the edges of his mind again. A miserable failure; that was what Azula had called him as they fought on the deck of her ship. Was it true then? Did his father really reject him so much that there was nothing Zuko could do? Nothing that would restore his honor? Zuko frowned, and banished his thoughts again. There was someone coming from the left. Quickly, he reached behind him and pulled out the mask he wore for occasions like these. Putting it over his face, and seeing through the eyeholes, Zuko became a different person. A while ago, he would never have donned the mask for something as petty as this. It would have been beneath him to do so.

The figure in the distance walked closer at a sedate pace. Zuko tracked the person's progress with avid interest. The figure wore a hooded cloak that concealed all features. Behind the mask, Zuko's eyes narrowed at that. What was this person trying to hide, he asked himself. The figure walked closer and closer, until it disappeared behind the edge of the gorge, right below him. Now, Zuko could hear footfalls beneath him. He held his breath and his body until the footfalls were at their loudest. Then, he suddenly sprung forward and jumped down. Dual swords slid out of their scabbard and into his hands. He landed heavily, swords flashing. But there was no one before him. His eyes darted left and right. His mind tried to find an explanation. There was no way he miscalculated, but there was nothing in front of him.

His right sword flashed as he spun his body around. But the blade met nothing, and he saw why. There, with his knees bent backward and his body sliding beneath his swing was the dark figure. In came the left sword, flashing quickly. It was not quick enough. The stranger's hands pushed off against the ground, and the body flipped over the ground. Again, Zuko's sword met nothing. The stranger landed in a crouch and straightened.

"Who are you?"

The voice was unmistakably male, hard but his words spoken without inflection. Zuko heard no fear, no anger, not even anxiety. His eyes narrowed and his face formed a silent snarl. Zuko sprung forward, covering the distance between them in a single bound. His right sword flashed downward at the man's unprotected body. A solid clang of metal stopped it. The mysterious stranger had drawn a sword of his own. A long, single-edged blade held in the man's right hand, in a reverse grip. For a moment, Zuko could see the vague outlines of his opponent's lower face through the hood. It seemed to match his tone of voice. Then, Zuko's own left sword stabbed forward, right at that face. The stranger suddenly jumped up, somersaulting over Zuko's head. Zuko turned to face him, again with his swords in motion. The stranger's back was turned to him, but he seemed to have no trouble ducking beneath the first swing. Before the second one could land, Zuko grunted in surprise as he sailed through the air. He landed painfully, his body rolled along the ground several times before stopping.

Zuko winced as he tried to breathe. With his right hand, he tried to massage the pain around his chest. His right sword lay on the ground, where he had dropped it. He saw that a space of many paces now separated the two of them, and realized how far he had been kicked away. Zuko painfully sat up, using his remaining sword to help himself up. In front of him, stood the stranger in a casual stance, with his arms at his side and his sword held loosely. A strong breeze made his loose outer garment gently flutter, but whoever was behind the cloak made no move to attack. The two of them stared at each other for a time. Finally, the stranger moved. Zuko tensed and gripped his remaining sword tightly. The stranger walked a few steps over to the spot where Zuko's right sword laid, and moved the tip of his own sword under it. A flicker from him sent the curved blade into the air. It flipped end over end as it flew in an arc toward Zuko. He tried to move away as best as he could, and put up his sword in defense. But the blade sunk into the ground, easily two paces away from Zuko's feet. The stranger began walking away.

As Zuko realized what was happening, all feelings of surprise or pain left him. There was only rage, at this kind of dismissal. He would not accept this. With his teeth gritting behind the mask, Zuko forced himself to stand up.

"Wait! I'm not finished with you!" He shouted as he staggered forward to his right sword and pulled it out of the ground. The stranger had just finished sheathing his own sword. He stopped walking, unarmed, as Zuko advanced on him, first at a trot, but in longer and longer strides as he abandoned all thoughts but killing the stranger. Zuko could feel it, the power that begged to be released from his fists to immolate this man before him. It wasn't the desire for secrecy that made him ignore that power. He rushed forward. The stranger's right hand pulled back on the hood he wore as he turned to face Zuko. At that moment, they locked eyes. Those blood red eyes seemed to stare straight through him. As his mind became lethargic, Zuko could feel his legs give out as he collapsed. Even though his vision grew hazier and hazier, he could see the stranger turning his back on him once again. His mind groggily formed the words, but his mouth could not speak them before his eyes closed.

The cool spring breeze blowing across his face was the next thing Zuko remembered. As lethargy slipped away, he opened his eyes. Zuko found himself resting against a tree. A hand appeared and poured a cup down his mouth. He groggily swallowed and grimaced at the bitter taste. Tea.

"I am glad to see that you are awake, nephew." A friendly and familiar voice called out.

"Uncle?" Zuko asked, bewildered. There was his uncle, calmly refilling the teacup he had just drunk from. How long had he been unconscious? "How did…how did you find me?"

"When you didn't return, I went to find you. On the way, I found a nice young man who told me that he met someone who looked like you a while ago, so I just followed the road." His uncle explained patiently, and then offered him the teacup. "More tea? Nothing like tea to shake the sleepiness out of you in the morning, or in this case, the afternoon."

"No, thank you." Zuko was awake now, afternoon or not. He remembered now. He remembered what he had seen and what he had wanted to say. He was just a kid.

"Oh, yes. A fine young man. He seemed to be about your age." His uncle commented affably. Zuko blinked as he realized that he had spoken aloud. "Quite helpful, though not much of a conversationalist. A shame, for good conversation is the key to any successful introduction. Did the two of you talk?"

"We met." Zuko left it at that. He didn't want to say more, though he wondered if his uncle hadn't already figured it all out anyway. Another cool breeze blew across his face. Suddenly, he remembered one important missing detail. The mask. He wasn't wearing it anymore.

"Something wrong?" His uncle inquired. Zuko made sure to drain all emotion from of his face before he answered.

"It's nothing, uncle." He stood up. The pain across his chest had dulled, but it was still there. A reminder. "We should get going."

"Yes, we should." His uncle got up as well. They started walking. "Perhaps we'll meet this person again."

"I hope so."

To be Continued