There's a rich shade of purple glaring at the edges of her closed vision, and the girl instinctively screws her eyes up against it, brushing her hand over her vulnerable eyelids.
Korra.
Korra? She wants to say. Who's Korra? But right now all that matters is sleep, and she tips her head back, eager to slip backwards into the welcoming arms of rest—
Korra. Wake up.
And before she can get the chance to mutter sleep, please, her eyelids flutter tentatively open and her whole body is seized with a convulse of shock. The girl glances downward, left, right, up, and nothing makes sense—she's floating in thin air, standing on nothing with her arms extended and her feet unsupported, surrounded by nothing but a giant smear of inky blueness and the occasional swathe of violet, how is this possible—
Korra.
At the sound of a voice coming from somewhere in all this darkness, she looks up.
A girl stands across from her, surveying her with calm, cool, and kind eyes. Her hair is drawn up, two thick strands bound by blue ties framing her face, and a parka is wrapped loosely around her waist. Her entire profile is outlined in swirls of aqua. An itch of familiarity springs at the back of her head.
Her lips move. Who are you?
The girl vaguely smiles. I am you.
Who am I?
"Whoa, hey!"
Korra manages to pivot just in time to see a rather beefy man trip over his own feet and instinctively reach out his hands in preparation for the fall, colliding into her. She lifts up her own hand, her gut tightening as she wants for a stone wall, an array of rock, to shoot out of the ground and defend her—
But nothing happens. The man crashes into her, very narrowly smashing her head against the wall, and the cakes that she had just bought go flying out of her hands. They shatter into unappetizing sugary bits on the market wall, tumbling to the ground and smearing a coat of white icing into the mortar.
"Oh no. Damn, damn it—I am so sorry." The man distractedly runs a hand through his stubbly hair, glancing around as if there were something that could help him in the vicinity. "Look, here—" he starts stamping the pastry chunks into the ground, sweeping them off the side of the road. "I'll buy you some more, just give me a minute—"
"It's all right," Korra says to the ground, bending her head forward and coaxing her hood over her face. "Don't worry, it's okay—"
"No, no, no, it'll only take a couple of seconds—" he's already emptying a cascade of yuans into his meaty palm before someone from across the market calls his name. He turns on instinct, and Korra takes that chance to slip out of his sight and into the bubbling brew of people seething in the streets.
Shame. She had really been looking forward to those cakes. It would be great to get the salt spray from the Republic City Bay, where she'd ridden in, off her tongue, but really, it was hard enough to keep her face concealed, let alone buy food or water—
A stream of children flowed past, nearly knocking her off her feet, and Korra's jolted back into the present. Right. Focus. She needed a game plan; it wouldn't do anything to just aimlessly wander around the Republic City streets until something popped into her head.
Okay. So. One. As much as she wanted to, she just couldn't barge in on the President and demand his support of the Southern Water Tribe. Not that it wasn't tempting.
Two. So the next highest authority she could go to was Lin Beifong. Of course, like everybody who tuned in to the Republic City radio stations knew, it was common knowledge that Beifong was unable to continue as the metalbending chief of police as the most important part of that title had been taken away by Amon.
Three. So where could she be found? Korra looked up, toward where the sunlight was gleaming in telltale shards off of the steel crown of the metalbenders' headquarters. Would she have found it unbearable to leave her old office and taken up residence there, or would she have found it unbearable to stay in the place anymore and packed up, moved out?
Well. Either way, it was still worth a shot.
So double-checking in a nearby sales window that her face was nicely concealed under the dark of her hood, Korra set out in the direction of the metalbenders' headquarters.
You are the Avatar.
….I don't know what that is.
Onetwothreebreathe,onetwothreebreathe. "Excuse me, excuse me." Korra jostles her way through a crowd of metalbenders all swimming out the doors eagerly, on their lunch break. She expects to be stopped once or twice and interrogated, but all of the men and women are too busy laughing and joking amongst themselves, separating out in the destinations of their favorite restaurants and cafès.
And then she's alone on the long metal stairwell, untroubled by any member of the police force.
Her footsteps ring long and loudly on the steel slats. One, two, three, one, two, three. The simple rhythm sends images spiraling through her head—soldiers marching through her home village, metallic boots clacking sharply on the ice, warships chugging with a deep, rumbling intensity through the water and pulling into harbor—
Something catches in her chest, and Korra shudders. She's almost at the door now. She shakes her head and briskly thinks of positioning herself on that shore and punching her fist out, furious tunnels of wind exploding forth and blasting the ships backward, sending them rocking wildly out of port, taking another hand and throwing another gust of air at the soldiers, or, best of all, sending Unalaq flying off of his feet and into the water—
Korra's lip curls at the thought. If only, she wistfully thinks, she had stayed. After all, no matter what her spirits-damned uncle had said, she was still the Avatar—
—That tyrant took away your bending for good and that you will never, ever, no matter how hard you try, find it again—
Korra imagines airbending this thought out of her head too. If she could go into the Avatar State, she thought, firmly squashing the wriggling uncertainties down in her mind, then she could master the rest of the elements, too. She was sure of it.
(She can't afford to think anything else.)
The moment she reaches the door, she throws it open, savoring the sound of it banging sharply on the stone wall behind her, and sweeps in without a sound of permission.
"I need to see Chief Beifong." Korra leaps into her preplanned speech without a pause. "It's urgent. Where is she?"
The two men who had brought their lunches sit almost comically on top of their desks, faces frozen and sandwiches half-raised to their mouths. As she rocks back on her heels and crosses her arms expectantly, the smaller man one slides to the ground and summons a cheesy smile to his face. "Sorry, but Chief Beifong isn't available right now, er, miss—?"
Oh. Right. Her disguise. Korra's fingers ponder at the edges of her hood before she figures, oh, well. Being the Avatar did get you results faster, after all. She yanks her hood back, a spurt of satisfaction leaping in her chest at the chorus of gasps, and cuts to the chase. "Where is she?"
The two men, suddenly looking sheepish, swap glances with each other. "We—we don't know?" The taller one says, joining his friend on the floor. "She left the office about an hour ago, before our lunch break. We haven't seen her since." He steps cautiously forward. "A-Avatar Korra, we too would be delighted to help on any matter—"
"Korra?"
(And her composure collapses from her skin and smashes into a million tiny pieces on the floor, and she wants to cry, she wants to hit something, but more than anything she wants to run, Korra, run away—)
She slowly turns around to face the doorway. "Er, hey, Mako."
(But how can she run away when she can't even breathe—)
She scratches the back of her neck to do something, to avoid those eyes, so gold-amber-fiery-orange, staring her down like twin lasers. He's holding a paper bag in his hands—his lunch?—and staring openly at her. Disbelief is traced into every crevice of his face, and Korra keeps her eyes firmly fixed on his shoes.
(Don't look at his eyes, don't look at his eyes, don't remember—)
Pupils in flame-colored eyes contracting in sheer terror as the dark-haired boy opened his mouth in a deafeningly silent scream—
"Wh-what're you doing here?" she manages to spit out.
Mako sets the paper bag down on the desk nearest to the door. "I—uh—I work here now." His feet shuffle uncertainly; his fingers drum on the wood grain. "I'm a detective."
And without her bending, she couldn't do anything, she couldn't move, she couldn't even breathe—
"Oh. Nice."
"What're you doing here?"
Korra's vaguely aware of the two men behind her gaping, mouthing confused questions urgently at Mako. He ignores them. "I'm. I'm." What is she doing here again? "I'm looking for Beifong. They say she left about an hour ago."
Their eyes meet for a sliver of a second, then immediately repel away. The magnetic current between them is too strong to be concentrating on each other for too long.
You're the Avatar.
"Um. Yeah. She takes these walks around the city sometimes." Breathe. Onetwothree. Breathe. "So I dunno. Maybe check out Air Temple Island? She'll head out there occasionally."
I love you.
(And I'm an idiot.)
Korra furiously swallows back the nausea slowly creeping up her throat. "All right. I will." Beat. "Thanks."
"No problem."
She can feel her teeth pressuring into her lower lip, so hard that she thinks she can taste blood. "Well. See you around, Mako."
"See you."
Korra turned to face the two flabbergasted cops. "Uh, thanks to you too." They nod, completely dumbfounded, and without wasting a precious moment Korra slips out of the room, shuts the door, and calmly descends the stairs.
It's not until she emerges into broad daylight again that she begins running.
It's going to be all right, Korra.
(No, she'd said, every fiber in her body rebelling against feeling reassured, feeling better, being able to breathe.
It's not.)
In order to remember, you must regain your connection with your Avatar Spirit.
Pillars of golden light sweep the sky from a distance. Veins of Republic City citizens, benders and non-benders alike, bubble eagerly through the streets as the lamplights dim and the stars begin to pepper the sky, all in the direction of the stadium, blazing like its own painfully brilliant star come crashing to earth. The sizzling of radio static drifts in cloudy wafts through windows, shuttered to keep all the noise of the crowds out, and the betting pools have been open for at least two hours, tensions running high and yuans flowing smoothly, being pocketed by immaculately dressed businessmen with identical gleams in their eyes.
It's pro-bending night.
"—it's the match of the year, folks! The Fire Ferrets, hanging onto their previous fame through the skin of their teeth, are up against the Black Quarry Boar-q-pines!" The announcer's voice pours in a chatty stream of conciousness over the heads of Republic City citizens as they flow through the doorways into the arena. "Even with their old talent and skill, the Fire Ferrets just barely won out in their previous match against the Boar-q-pines—will they be able to score a victory, or will they fall prey to this season's remarkable losing streak?"
The gaudy lights and the river of people around her, so different from the secluded South Pole, briefly overwhelm Korra, and she has to close her eyes to recollect her bearings. Onetwothreebreathe. Cobalt eyes flutter back open. Everyone around her is settling in their seats, chatting with their friends, or arguing over their thoughts about the outcome of the match. She bites her lip, something that she's been doing a lot of lately, and lets her eyes rove over the arena. No sign of Bolin. He must still be getting ready with his new teammates for the match. The whole crowd is just a seething sea of unfamiliar faces and unwanted pressure.
But as she begins to pivot on her heels, already regretting her decision to put her friends ahead of her tribe, a head of long, wavy black locks easing lithely through the front row snags her eye.
Korra smiles, relieved, underneath the protective shade of her parka hood and, immediately waving all her doubts out of her mind with a nonchalant hand, reaches out to tap the heiress on the shoulder.
"Excuse me," Korra says in a gruff voice, "but have I missed much?"
(And even though she has found her breath in places such as a twisted palace of ice guarding a Spirit Portal and on a craggy cliffside next to her traitorous uncle, it only takes a turn of a graceful head and the slight ripple of flawless black hair to squeeze the breath out of her lungs.)
Asami opens ripely candy-appled lips to answer before she catches sight of who's under the hood and she raises her hand to her mouth as if to stifle a gasp, slightly smudging her lipstick. Her eyes are so wide and shocked that for a second of a second of a second, Korra regrets blowing her cover. (But then the girl smiles, a great rush of relief and brilliance flowing naturally into her face, and Korra feels perfectly justified.)
"Only three months," Asami says indignantly, although the corners of her lips were uncontrollably twitching. She pointed to the chair on her left. "Sit down right now."
Korra slightly tilts her head to hide her grin and slides down next to Asami. "So." She nudges Asami's slim leg with her foot. "How's Future Corporations?"
Jade green eyes roll. "Great, actually." She nudges her back, a bit more forcefully. "But that's not the point at all. Why are you back? What's been happening at the South Pole? And have you been able to—"
Korra knows what the question is. She lowers her head, and her smile sours a bit at its edges. "Well. Not quite," she admits before glancing back up. "To be honest, I'd rather hear about what Republic City's been up to in the past three months."
Around them, the crowd surges onto their feet and screams, reverberations shivering in staccato waves through the stands as the teams troop out into the ring, stretching and waving showily to the fans, exposing their rippling muscles to the crowd in as many angles as they can manage. Even when Bolin swirls out into the center, a grin flushing stark onto his face as he punches his fist into the air, the two girls remain glued to their seats. As Asami turns back to her with a practical storm in her eyes, Korra's heart quails and she thinks that even if Equalists plunged through the roof and kidnapped the president, she wouldn't take a single hint of notice.
"You," Asami says, stabbing a finger into the Avatar's face as the earthbending discs are arranged on either side of the ring, "are not getting any information about the city until I hear what the Avatar's been up to for the past three months."
Korra backs away, hands up and smile tugging haphazardly like an epileptic puppet on the corners of her lips. Far, far away in some foreign country across the sea, the bell clangs loudly and clearly and she can't even pay attention long enough to hear the water sluicing eagerly up through cracks in the ring or the rattle of the discs off the metallic rods or the whispering whooshes of flame. "Fine, then." Spirits, how am I going to fit everything in—"I haven't gotten my bending back yet," she warily admits, treading on unknown grounds as the announcer's voice thunders in torrents over her head. "And…" Beat. Onetwothree—"And I'm not sure I ever will." Breathe.
"You can still airbend, though, can't you?"
Korra closes her open palm in answer. A course of wind swirls around them, fluttering the edges of Korra's parka and slightly grasping at the line of Asami's scarlet number. Korra ducks under her hood again, a blush tinting her dark cheeks.
"—And the Fire Ferrets are knocked into Zone Two! If they keep this up, this could be one of the quickest and most crushing defeats in pro-bending history, folks, wouldn't you say, Mr. Ying?"
"So…yeah. I can airbend." She sighs loudly. "And—" Korra shot a sharp glimpse around them; everybody seemed one hundred percent focused on the match—"I can go into the Avatar State. Or, rather," she continues, cutting off Asami's exclamation, "I have. I mean, if I wanted to blow the Black Quarry Boar-q-Pines right into the water with the Avatar State, which I totally want to—"
"Korra, you're not watching the game at all. You have literally not even glanced at the arena since we sat down."
"The point," Korra cuts in loudly, "the point is that I'm able to go into the Avatar State, just not on will. And…I'm not sure if I can control it yet." She looks down at her shoes. "I'm just—without having mastered all the elements, I'm not sure if I'll ever be able to control the Avatar State."
The silence between them stretches on, yawning and threatening to swallow them both even as both Bolin's new teammates are knocked into the water and he's stuck floundering discs at all three Boar-q-pines in Zone Three.
"Also," Korra suddenly says, "my uncle turned out to be evil and now he's invading the Southern Water Tribe. All right, your turn."
"What?" Asami jerks backward. "How is that fair?"
"You withheld information from me first, now spill. What's been going on in Republic City since I was gone?"
Around them, there's a deafening roar and tumultous crash of mixed applause and boos as Bolin goes hurtling down into the water to join the other Fire Ferrets and the first round ding-ding-dings to an end. Asami purses her lips, eyes glossing over in thought.
"It's—well. Not terrible. Future Corporations, actually, just struck up a deal with this businessman named Varrick—have you heard of him? He's from the Southern Water Tribe. And he's huge in business—"
"—I could've sworn his name was Vernon—" Korra mutters to herself.
"—So we're doing well. Republic City's still struggling. President Raiko recently started up pro-bending again in order to keep up appearances, but things still aren't great. We've lost a police chief, we've lost a ton of our benders, and—"
"An Avatar," Korra finishes glumly. "Don't worry, I know. And speaking of Beifong, I've been trying to find her. I spent all afternoon scouring the city and—" a shiver wracks up her spine, "—I even went into the metalbenders' headquarters."
"Check Air Temple Island yet?"
"Yeah, that's what everyone's telling me," Korra admits grudgingly. She self-consciously crosses her ankles, twisting her fingers in her lap.
"—And the Black Quarry Boar-q-pines advance into the third and final round—!"
"I—I'd like to avoid…being seen by Tenzin or any of his kids, though," Korra reluctantly adds, turning her face away so that she couldn't see the inevitable disapproving curve of Asami's ruby-red, flower-soft, all-too-full lips.
"You're going to have to face Tenzin again one day."
"Yeah, I know. Just never thought it would actually come after all my time in the Southern Water Tribe." Down in the painful glare of the arena, the Fire Ferrets' firebender sails over the lip of the third zone and tumbles down into the water, leaving Bolin and the waterbender to desperately fight against going down in the quickest defeat in pro-bending history.
"Well, it did. And you should face Tenzin; it wouldn't be fair to see Lin and not him in his own home."
"Uuugggghhh." Korra let her face slip forward into her lap. "I don't even know if Lin is on Air Temple Island."
Goodbye for now. You're just a simple airbender. Remember your patience, Korra. Or are you going to blast me off the side of the cliff? Onetwothree, breathe. And you will never, ever—
Breathe, Korra. Breathe. She pinches her nose between two weary fingers. "This whole thing is a mess." Around them, the entire crowd goes silent as the waterbender trips over his own feet and spirals into the water below, leaving just Bolin defending Zone Three. "I feel like I should be handling everything, because I'm the Avatar and all, but I also can't wait to hand it all off to someone else."
Bolin managed to knock the other earthbender all the way across the court and send him spinning wildly into the water on the other side. The Fire Ferrets' water and firebender are on the lift, dripping silently and sullenly as it slowly clicks upward. The entire arena's breaths are frozen on their lips.
"Don't be ridiculous, Korra." Asami's slender and oh-so-delicate fingers cup Korra's shoulder. "You're talking like you'll have to handle all of this by yourself." The heiress gently squeezes the Water Tribe girl's shoulder. "Of course you won't. You never will."
And before the water and firebender can step off the lift, the Black Quarry firebender meets Bolin's offense with a blast of orange sparks, pulsing blue at its core, and sends Bolin skidding off of the side and into the water, marking the match an official victory for the Black Quarry Boar-q-pines. The entire left side of the stadium surges off of their feet in one collective roar of stamping feet and hoarse cheers, while the entire right side disappointedly counts out the money they owe and throws their popcorn bags on the ground with mutters of "I was sure they'd had it this time" and sullenly shuffles out of the stands.
(And the nonbender and the Avatar remain rooted on their rickety bench in the front row, three months' worth of unspoken words shivering like a palpable being inbetween them, as Korra thrives and breathes the cool relief of fresh, accessible air before Asami's hand slides off her shoulder and her lungs wither into useless stone lumps behind her chest once more.)
If you don't—
The door to the main air temple takes its sweet, grinding time to clunk its way open, shrieking protestantly all the way. But when it does open, the Avatar stares down the steely-haired police chief, who, to her credit, doesn't let a flicker of surprise cross her face. Instead, she roves over the Avatar with metallic eyes and a rather blank expression.
Then her lips quirk at the edges, and something akin to a spark kindles in her eyes. But then again, Korra thinks almost fondly (but not really, of course) even something as big as the loss of her bending trying to restrain the former metalbending chief would be like trying to stop the sun from rising.
Lin Beifong nods. "Hey, kid."
"Hey, chief." Korra slips her hood off of her head. "Can I come in?"
Darkness will engulf the world.
.
.
.
(A light in the dark, the girl dreamily thinks, and then, the Avatar, knowing somewhere inside herself that they are somehow related, but she just can't—
Breathe.
Korra's goal: When she had first mulled it over with Beifong, simplicity itself. 'Borrow' a speedboat from the Republic City harbor and ride back to the South Pole before smuggling out a handful of representatives for her audience with the president—preferably waterbenders, as the tiny speedboat she'd crammed herself on would not hold under the weight of five (hopefully) muscular tribesmen and women.
Korra's issue: Desna and Eska were trying their damndest to keep her from reaching the tribe. And worst of all, they were on their own turf. The moment the water surged under the speedboat, causing it to buckle and lunge forward, Korra's lip slammed into one of the handlebars, her mouth flooding with the metallic taste of blood as she tumbled forward and smacked into the water. The speedboat swirled away by way of one of her waterbending cousins' eddies, and Korra stayed perfectly still in the water, facing the sky and hardly daring to breathe as she waited for one of the twins to discover that the speedboat had no rider.
A short length of silence. A soft exclamation of surprise from one of Unalaq's children.
One.
Water bubbled loudly in her ears and along her arms and legs, slight waves from the momentum of Desna and Eska skating through the lake—possibly browsing for the unconscious (or worse) body of their Avatar cousin to take back to their father. Korra repressed a sharp shudder.
Two.
Korra coiled all of her muscles, feeling a sudden rush of air tingle against her fist and take refuge in the inside of her palm, a spinning ball of gaining energy ready to let loose with all the fury of a tornado.
A smear of violet eyes flashed on the horizon.
Three.
Korra lunged up from the water, a funnel of air supporting her, and threw a fistful of air in Desna's general direction. Without even glancing to see where Eska was or where Desna had gone, the funnel of air curled around her legs and then launched, spiraling Korra across the water like a horizontal tornado.
Come on come on come on come on
From somewhere in the distance, a dormant volcano peaked into the air, shattering slivers of sunlight. The Avatar, bending or no bending, could find refuge on a Fire Nation island. Her cousins had no right to attack her there.
A pillar of ice shot up from the previously balmy and calm lakewater right underneath Korra, ridged with tiny icicles and scales sharp enough to draw blood. Korra threw another desperate armful of wind behind her, satisfied when she heard a startled cry from Eska. The tornado beneath her churned more furiously, kicking up a razor-tipped spray of water droplets on either side of her. The kiss of water on her face stirred an invigorating sort of recklessness behind her chest, something that hadn't awakened since Korra stood ten feet in the air above the Southern Spirit Portal and laughed at the skies.
I'm going to make it I'm going to make it I'm going to make it
A quick look tossed behind her. The twins were a good fifteen feet behind Korra, and the tornado beneath her was picking up speed, now practically screaming with energy as it grazed across the tip of the lakewater.
"Korra, stop!" One of the twins shrieked. Probably Eska, but then again, she doubted even their father could tell the difference between them. "We mean well!"
You should've said that before you threw me off my speedboat! Korra wants to yell heroically back, but the air spout really is taking a lot out of her. The island, previously a dark speck on the horizon, is now solidifying to an onyx jewel not far away.
Almost there almost there almost—
Something's slithering under the water beneath her, she can see its curving dark shape.
No, no, no, spirits damn it, almost there almost there—
The shadow begins to darken and ripple under the water's reflection as it begins to rise—
You're going to make it Korra, you can make it—
A lithe, black serpent body embossed with the gold of the dark spirits spirals into the air, and, as did with the spirits that had attacked her at the South Pole, a long scream trails after it.
One of her cousins cries out something, and they both immediately begin pedaling backwards, waterbending themselves back toward Republic City to leave Korra to fend for herself.
The spirit and the Avatar contemplate each other, the air shimmering between them like a hot and cold front meeting.
Onetwothreebreathe, onetwothreebreathe.
The spirits lunges at her in one long, dark spear, and Korra just barely manages to shift the air spout to the side as it grazes her arm. Ignoring the blood streaming behind her, Korra punches an air vortex at it and attempts to weave around the spirit (get to the island, get to the island, it's your only chance—)
Something slams, hard, into the side of her head, scattering black droplets across her vision and spinning the world into a swirl of black-gold-blue-green, blue-sky-black-monster-where, Korra desperately punching air from her fists, spirits damn it, where is the monster—
Is the vast mirror of blue she's falling into the sky or the lake? Korra spins wildly in free-fall, grabbing out for something, anything, torrents of wind blasting haphazardly from her palms, desperately feeling inside herself for waterbending, earthbending, firebending, the Avatar State—
Please. Korra closes her eyes as best she can against the wind ripping at her clothes and channels her words as loudly as she can to the voices in her head, to the white-hot wrench of power that had once twisted her gut and flooded her bloodstream in a frozen mass of ice not a week ago.
She's almost positive she's falling toward the lake now. Korra can feel the mist of the water left over from the spray that had followed her settling on her face.
Please. She begs. Every single muscle in her body tenses, willing her eyes to frost silver, for unspeakable power to bloom, almost too powerful for her own body to hold.
Please, Korra thinks weakly just before she crashes headfirst into the water, no time to even breathe, and the blackness lingering at the corners of her periphery eagerly begins to sheen over the Avatar's vision.
…Please.
(And then there is no more light, no more Avatar, nothing but darkness.)
You will die.
And our era will end.
Go back, the dark-skinned man with the fur coat around his waist says. He reminds the girl of herself.
Return to the beginning. Find Raava.
Return where? The girl wants to scream. Panic is building up in her chest, and the man's image is already fading away into the blueness. Find who?
But she is slammed into with a sudden course of water and bubbles, and the man is sucked backwards into the neverending smear of blue as if he were never there. The girl flips and tumbles backwards, eyes closed and hands extended in a nauseating feeling of free-fall, as she falls backwards into the vast purple sky without a single solid thing to hold.
When she stops, the girl is met with a glare of blinding white light through the dark curtain of her closed eyelids, and she reluctantly opens them.
A dark-haired boy in a simple orange beggar's shirt faces her. He's hovering silently in a bulb of silver, and his smile graces his face like a ray of light.
Are you Raava? She asks.
No.
Her face falls, and the white-hot throbbing in her stomach increases toward painfulness.
But I can help you find her, the boy says, and he vanishes, moved backward behind the white light. The girl steps forward with her hand outstretched, determined not to lose another guide, and then she's spiraling into a white-hot abyss, spinning, screaming, tumbling through thin air—
And her feet slam into beautifully solid ground. Beautiful, solid, red and dusty ground. Up above her head, the sun is almost the same silver shade as the bulb the boy
(Wan, Wan, Wan)
the boy materialized from, and as she looks up at the sun, so familiar (and yet so different), a shock of black hair bobs across the center of her vision.
The boy is carrying a loaf of bread, hugging it to his chest as though it were his lifeline.
(You're dead, Wan!)
You just gotta accept the world the way it is.
Some people have power.
(You don't.)
Powerless, huh?
Fire bursts in brilliantly clawing tendrils from the boy's bare hands, and gasps rise like a cloud of heat from the crowds amassed around the scene.
The smeared darkness of a grin slashes across his face. He has never felt so alive.
(I'll show you.)
No, please! Have mercy!
Onetwothreebreathe,Wan. Onetwothree breathe.
(And the boy closes his fists, and the fire's life curls to thin gray smoke spiraling off his once burning fingertips.)
Breathe, Wan, breathe.
(He can't breathe, there's fire bursting out of his knuckletips and a swirl of teeth grazing his skin, hornets buzzing in a frenzied orbit around his body, running like mad through fields and forests and mountains as his eyes scratched and itched from a burning lack of sleep—)
Onetwothreebreathe, onetwothreebreathe.
Everything will be all right.
She has tormented me for ten thousand years!
The breathlessness strains at the spirit's voice like popping tendons, and Wan can practically feel the vice of the white spirit wrapping around his own chest.
Let him go!
Do you realize what you've done!?
The corner of the girl's pasty lip quirks upward, as though she were in a dream.
"Raava." Korra whispers. "I found you."
How are you feeling since our split, Raava? I've never been better.
The malevolent gold eye of the Dark Spirit seems to fasten and lock upon her, and Korra freezes in her place. Terror catches in her chest, the kind of terror she doesn't think she's ever felt before.
When Harmonic Convergence comes, I will destroy you forever.
The Dark Spirit dives away over the ridged back of the Air Lion Turtle, and Korra is able to breathe once more.
He was not speaking to her, but to Raava. Raava and Wan.
(But she'd had the strangest feeling he had looked right at her.)
As darkness grows, light fades.
The Avatars shudder together. One thinks of the fire blast that had set thousands of years in motion, and one thinks of a city thousands of years away with almost everything she had ever held dear inside it.
(Either way, the world is on the brink of collapse, and the light is fading quickly.)
Harmonic Convergence, the Light Spirit says. That is when Vaatu and I must battle for the fate of the world.
What happened to you? When did you become so violent?
(Wan can't breathe, he can't breathe. This is his best friend, his practical brother—)
You showed me we could change the world if we just stopped being so afraid. Now, we're doing it!
The lightning above them swirls in on itself to form a gigantic golden eye. Vaatu's deep voice laughs from somewhere in the black clouds.
(The powers of Raava flower inside of him, and for a second Wan thinks he's going to burn to a crisp from the inside-out. It's like the core of the sun sizzling through his veins, coals scraping past his throat and skin burning bright-white, the power—it's too much—)
Water, earth, fire and air spin around him in an elliptical orbit, and the white-hot fire inside of him, drifts through his skin to frost his eyes and coat his body in a milky haze.
(I'm the Avatar, and you gotta deal with it!)
See you at the end of the world!
….I'm sorry, Wan.
This is all Raava can offer him.
This is all Raava can offer the world.
(I'm sorry.)
Haven't you heard the legends? Fire pricks the inside of his fists like dashes of ember.
Wan punches his fist, and swirls of flame shoot out.
I'm not a regular human anymore.
We have to finish this together!
And though Vaatu has flooded the world with darkness, Wan can feel himself burning with light.
We are bonded forever.
(I will be the bridge between our two worlds.)
The world is entering a new age.
The two sides, one a sea of blue, and one a mass of scarlet, advance on each other with murder in their eyes.
Our time protecting mankind is over.
The four elements are no longer separate in this battle. Fire hisses, rocks plunge, air blasts, and water swirls above heads as the Avatar struggles to stop the fighting, the face of Raava emblazoned on his chest.
We will no longer give humans the power of the elements.
I'm sorry, Raava.
Wan looks hopelessly around him. Blood spatters the earth. Trickles of water gurgle halfheartedly from the pouches of dead men. Blazes of shiny fire burn on the skin of warriors. Rocks are scattered over the battlefield, and wind picks up, whispering desolately across the dead-silent field.
I failed to bring peace.
He leans his head back, and tears prickle his eyelashes.
Even with Vaatu locked away, darkness still surrounds humanity.
Wan's life is ending. He has known it for many years. Raava had done the best she could, but—
There wasn't enough time.
Raava's spirit curls in a warm embrace around the Avatar.
Don't worry. We will be together for all of your lifetimes.
Wan's last breath rattles into his throat. Onetwothreebreathe, Wan. A smile crooks at the corners of his lips as he thinks of the old mantra.
And we will never give up.
Golden sparks flutter delicately past Wan's pale lips and into the sky, human and spirit, walking together toward a new age and into a new life.
(And miles and miles away, in an airbending village far up in the mountains, a baby girl's deafening cry splits the air.)
Korra's eyes shoot open, and her mouth automatically circles wide to gulp in heavy, desperate draughts of breath. Seemingly, the moment she moves, the thick wooden table holding her above the water begins to creak upward, swinging haphazardly back and forth.
Eska—Desna—the fight—airbending—the Dark Spirit—
Falling, falling, falling.
All right, onetwothreebreathe, Korra, remember? Calm down, Avatar. Take in your surroundings.
Twin metallic chains, clicking steadily on either side of her, are pulling up the table. Wet curls of hair are stuck to her damp cheeks. Her hands are no longer nervous and trembling at her sides, but calm and still in her lap. Her body also feels much more refreshed, rid of all her riddling spiritual aches and pains.
Somebody had cleansed her with healing water.
For a moment there's an exhilirating feeling of free-fall fluttering in her stomach, the tingle of fresh possibilites flushing through her blood as Korra holds out her palm and opens it, but there's no flame. The water droplets amassing around her body don't freeze. The rock on the sides of the deep cavern doesn't shift.
It was a long shot, but somewhere in the pit of her stomach Korra can't stop the small flower of hope from wilting with disappointment. If only, if only.
When the table finally scrolls up to level ground, Korra remembers everything, and she's gained enough feeling in her legs that she can stand. "Thank you," she says to the elderly woman standing intently by the wooden structure. "Thanks so much."
The woman reaches out a brittle arm, and helps the still-wobbly Korra off of the rising table. For a moment, she stands, eyes narrowed and studying Korra with scrutiny.
"Do you feel better?" she asks.
Korra nods. "I do. I really, really do."
The woman drinks her in. Beat. Onetwothree. Beat. Then an old, toothy smile suddenly floods out on her face.
"You," she says, taking the Water Tribe girl's arm, "are quite welcome."
Korra returns the smile, soft and willing. "I think I'd better go now. And really, thanks for everything."
"You won't stay?"
"No, I'm going to have to leave. Sorry."
"Not even for a cup of tea?"
"Not even for that," Korra replies, and an ice-cold shudder suddenly shoots up her back when she thinks of the emblem of the Northern Water Tribe, glinting dully in the dim firelight on the porcelain surface of a teacup.
The firebender shrugs. "Suit yourself."
Korra watches the gray elastic strands bob away until they are almost gone before the question burning inside slips out. "I'm so sorry to bother you again—"
She huffs. "They always are." But she stops and turns, giving Korra a shred of hope.
"But…is there any way, with you and your healing water…" Breathe in, breathe out—"Could you possibly cure somebody's loss of bending?"
The woman bows her head to the crystalline shards of the cave floor. "Child, I'm no waterbender. And if I were, I do not even think I could help you even if I were in my prime. If it means anything to you, I am sorry. But there's nothing I can do."
Tears prick her eyes all of a sudden, and Korra hurriedly wipes her ragged sleeve across her face. She doesn't think she's cried since that night, and she needed no more reminders.
Besides, this is a stupid place to cry. The woman practically just saved her life.
The woman in question stands there, and watches the girl mop her face on her arm. She finds it fit to ask a simple question. "Who are you?"
Korra glances up from her bare feet, and everything that she had seen in her vision, both the good and the bad, suddenly bursts through to her memory.
She smiles.
"I'm the Avatar," Korra replies.
And you gotta deal with it!
She leaves at first light, face cleansed with the cool spirit water and hair tied back once more, almost feeling a degree of her old self again. The canoe waiting for her had been tied to a nearby rock, a paddle draped over its edge and the restless waters jostling the damp wood up against the raspiness of the stone shore.
Korra delivers an airbending slice to the frayed edge of the rope, and it snaps off the canoe's head without complaint. The boat unsteadily teeters backward until Korra places her heel on top of it, placing her arm over her eyes and squinting up into the sun.
Right about now, the members of her village would normally be out and about fishing, building new houses, and giving waterbending lessons to the younger ones.
Right about now, however, they would be doing all of these things under the baleful watch of the Northern Water Tribe guard.
Right about now, Desna and Eska would have reached the South Pole and brought news to their father. Korra was sure they couldn't know she was alive, they must have seen her tumble into the water with the Dark Spirit, after all. Unalaq would be sure to know right now, to know she was 'dead'. A grin of satisfaction slightly curled the edges of Korra's lips. It was glorious to know something her uncle didn't.
More than anything, though, she thought of her parents. Unalaq and her father had never gotten along, Korra thinks, absently glaring up at the sky. Unalaq would find some reason to jail her father, to punish him for whatever wrong he had ever done. It could be happening right as she was thinking on this sunlit shore. What would become of her mother, then? Would Unalaq spare her?
Korra briskly climbs into the boat. If she spent any more time dwelling over everything, either a) her head might explode or b) she might be tempted to take a dive under the water and wait for that Dark Spirit to come along and take her out of her miseries.
Besides, the Water Tribe girl thinks as she reaches for the paddle and dips it into the water, Harmonic Convergence was coming.
There was still time, but not a lot, and Air Temple Island was several hours away by boat and with no waterbending.
The end of the world, Korra thinks cheerily as she shoves off the rocky shore, is being counted down in days.
(And for the second time that week, the Avatar sets out for Republic City with nothing under her belt but determination and a hopeless hope for something she could never recover.)
Hahahaha. I thought this would be four chapters. Hahaha. Hahaha. Ha. Ha. Ha.
Nope. I can't even venture a guess at how long this thing's going to be. Hopefully I'll finish out 'rewriting' the second book\season soon though so we can get to the (in my humble opinion) much better BOOK THREE!
Also, writing this chapter was as hard to write as brushing my hair, so I apologize for its general terribleness. Plus, Korra's issues with the loss of her bending will be explored more next chapter so bear with me. Right now she's basically clinging for dear life onto the notion that if she can go into the Avatar State, she'll eventually be able to get her control back of the other elements. So there's that.
And thanks so so so so so much to the people who fav'd and followed and reviewed and did all that fun stuff, it really makes my day:) You should all be sainted, and I am sorry for this crappy chapter. Here, have some awkwardly written Korrasami. :).
As always, thanks for reading!
