The hooded man chased the girl down the metallic halls. He moved slowly, but purposefully. They were surrounded by a thick fog that obscured the hallway's end, assuming one even existed. She knew she would never find out. The girl tripped, just as she knew she would, just as she had done so many times before. She turned to her pursuer, to see the face of the man that followed her before she was finished. He appeared old and shriveled, but also tall and stern. Most of his features were obstructed by the ebony cloak about his head. If she was to guess at what Death would look like incarnated into a physical form, it would be the man that stood in front of her. He smiled wickedly at her. Everything she seen had happened before. Then, the wolf howled.
Jinora woke up panting, sweat pouring down her face, just as she had every night since the Harmonic Convergence. She had hoped that the nightmares would lessen, maybe even cease altogether, if she just remained in the physical world long enough, but they hadn't. They persisted, day after day. She had escaped the Fog of Lost Souls, but returned there every night as she slept.
In reality, she had spent only a couple days in the fog, but it had felt like weeks, maybe even months, to her. The Fog was spirit that presented the deepest fears of its victims to them, one after another, an infinite stream of nightmares and horrors, slowly wearing away at one's soul, driving them mad. Jinora had been rescued by her father before that came to pass, but she wasn't far from it.
Jinora took several deep, calming breaths to steady herself, before pulling herself off her bed and to a standing position. She couldn't go back to sleep, not now, not with the nightmares that she knew would be waiting for her when she closed her eyes again. She needed some fresh air, even the icy air of the Southern Water Tribe would do.
Sneaking out was easy enough. Everyone else was fast asleep. She slipped into some warmer clothes, then headed out the door without anyone being the wiser. She knew her grandmother would have disapproved of her going out alone at night, especially while she was still recovering from her ordeal, so she didn't give her grandmother the chance to object.
Katara's home was located right on the edge of town. Turn left from her doorway, and you go straight into the cityscape. Turn right, and you go through the flowing hills of ivory snow of the South Pole. Jinora chose the latter path tonight and walked out into the snowy expanse. The night sky was clear of clouds, fully exposing the stars that pin-dotted its veil, as well as the aurora of the Northern Lights. No. Southern Lights, she corrected, still getting use to the concept.
It didn't take long for the chill of the winter air to begin nipping at her flesh, a contradictory feeling that was simultaneously numbing and painful. She could handle the cold, though. She had experienced much worse.
Since it was incapable of causing physical pain to its victims, the Fog of Lost Souls functioned by inducing loss, heartache and pure terror. If there was a fear of the future, it would come to pass within the Fog. If there was a horrible moment you remembered, you relived it over and over again, each time becoming more twisted than the last.
Once, she was given a glimpse of the ten thousand years of darkness her actions helped to bring about. She was chased through the ruins of Republic City by dark spirits, giving her a good look at the destruction and havoc Vaatu would wreak upon the world. The ghosts of her family walked beside her in this nightmare, reminding her that it was her fault that Vaatu was allowed to break free from the Tree of Time, scolding her for her failures.
And she couldn't shake the feeling that they were right. She should have stayed with Korra. Things would have turned out differently had she. It was her job, her duty, to protect the Avatar in the Spirit World.
Jinora still wondered how much the people around her blamed her for. Vaatu and Raava were at a stand off right now. There was no ten thousand years of darkness, but neither were there ten thousand years of light. Their fate was undetermined, leaving the world hanging in a state of limbo, until the inevitable moment when either Raava or Vaatu were dead. The fact that Vaatu hadn't yet won didn't mean that a price had not been exacted against them, though. Mako was Vaatu's new vessel, and she didn't think there was any way to free him of the spirit's possession.
She knew her father well enough to know that he wouldn't hold her responsible for what happened. He would shift the blame from her, onto himself. He would feel like he somehow let her down by allowing her to try to help Korra. He would blame himself for her being trapped in the Fog, for Unalaq using her as leverage against Korra. That realization actually made her feel worse, rather than better. At least if he did blame her for her own mistakes, it would be deserved.
She didn't know about Korra. Jinora hadn't seen or talked to the Avatar since they split up. You should have closed the portal and left. You should have let me die.
When Jinora learned that she would be the one who would have to lead the Avatar into the spirit world, she felt like she had a real destiny for the first time in her life, as if she was going to accomplish something much greater than herself. Growing up, she always heard stories of her grandparents' adventures, and always wished she could go on a journey of her own someday. Going to the Spirit World was her one chance to prove herself.
When she returned to her body, her sense of destiny was gone. All that was left was despair and regret. Her family expected her to be the same girl who left them, Ikki and Meeko especially, but she wasn't, she couldn't be. The betrayal of Wan-Shi-Tong, her near death at Unalaq's hand, her complete uselessness against Vaatu and ultimately, the persisting nightmares of the Fog of Lost Souls was all too much for her to go through and still remain the same person. Although she may have returned from the Spirit World, she could feel in her heart that the experience had changed her irrevocably.
She wasn't sure how long she had traveled when she heard it again, only that her grandmother's house was far out of view, and the icy chill of the South Pole night had sunk deep within her bones. The sound was loud and piercing and unmistakable as anything other than the howl of a wolf.
It was identical to the howl that had woke her.
She had first thought the wolf's howl was part of her dream, but maybe it was from the outside, maybe it had been what woke her. The wolf let out another howl. Jinora noticed this time that it was weaker than she first thought. It lacked the strength and pride of an ordinary wolf. It was as if it was hurt.
She knew that she should turn back now. She knew that a wounded animal could be even more vicious than a healthy one. And the moment she took her first step toward the howling creature, she knew instinctively that, illogical as it was, she had made the right decision.
The wolf continued to howl, and Jinora trudged through the snow and ice towards its voice. Each howl called to her to come closer to the creature, to find it, wherever it was, leading her onward like a siren's song.
The closer she came to the creature, the quieter its cries became, almost as if it could sense her approach, as crazy as it might be. Or, maybe it wasn't crazy at all. Jinora could feel the creature's presence now, stronger and stronger as she approached. It was an unmistakable feeling. The creature was a spirit. Its howl had woken her from her slumber. It had been deliberate. The creature didn't just need help. It needed her help.
The girl did not discount the possibility that this could just as easily be a trap of some kind, but to what end? It wasn't as if she currently was of any use to the Avatar, who could go between worlds via the Spirit Portals. If somebody wanted to capture her and use her for leverage as Unalaq had done, wouldn't they use someone closer to the Avatar?
The sound led to the top of one of the rolling hills. There, she saw it. The creature before her lay on its side, unable to move. It was like nothing she had ever seen before, its fur white as the snow it lay upon. It had the head and body of a wolf, except the two were connected by a thin neck that stretched upward, or would if it was standing up right, about a foot and it had a small, white-feathered wing at each side that she was sure couldn't possibly be strong enough to fly the creature anywhere
"A Swanwolf?" Jinora whispered, mostly to herself, examining this new creature.
There was something else, though. It was thin, deathly thin. So much so that she could see the Spirit's ribs, something she previously wasn't even sure if Spirits had, through its skin. Jinora then noticed the feathers laying on the ground around the Swanwolf, which she had previously missed because of how well they blended with the surrounding snow. She was right, she realized, the spirit was dying, and it needed her help.
. . . . .
"Strike it faster! You're slowing down, kid!" Zolt called out at the boy.
Mako redoubled his efforts. The boy stood several paces back from a charred punching bag, hurling lightning bolt after lightning bolt at it, as he had for hours now.
Mako had awoken from his coma several months ago. The majority of his saviors, who he now knew to be the Triple Threat Triad, were thrilled to have him awake. A few seemed angry and bitter toward him at first, but came around. Shady Shen mentioned something about them losing money in a pool. Mako didn't know what he was talking about, but didn't pursue it. Once Mako was fully recovered, Zolt came to him with his offer. Mako and his brother join the Threats, doing a little janitorial work and the like around their HQ, as well as some accounting, and they were allowed to stay there. Eventually, they'd be expected to do field work, but not until they were old enough to survive it. Alternatively, the two of them could leave and take their chances with the streets again. If they did, Zolt made it clear that his crew would not save the boys again, but also that they would not bring harm to the boys for refusing his offer. Lightning Bolt Zolt was a lot of things, the vast majority of which were no good, but he wasn't a child killer.
Mako and Bolin made the choice to stay, together. Over the following months, they were worked relentlessly and trained even more so, but it didn't matter. They had found a home. They had found a family.
Lightning Bolt Zolt had insisted on being Mako's personal firebending tutor. Zolt spent the first couple months just trying to teach the kid basic lightningbending. After Mako learned that, it became about quickness. He focussed on teaching Mako how to exchange lethality for speed. Normally, when a firebender began summoning lightning, they would allow the maximum amount of energy to fill their bodies, before releasing it into one powerful burst that was very likely to kill anything in its wake, and incapacitate what it didn't. Once the energy started building, it took effort to cut the flow off before it was finished. That it was even possible at all wasn't common knowledge among firebenders yet.
"That's enough for now, kid. Let's take a break." Zolt said after a while. Mako was relieved, but didn't show it. His arms were sore, he was panting heavily, and the constant lighningbending left his insides feeling as if they were on fire. Zolt sat down on a nearby bench, and the boy followed in suit. "One bolt per 1.6 seconds, I think that's a new record." Zolt said, patting Mako on the back as he did. The eight-year-old beamed back in return.
It wasn't as good as he would have liked, and was really only better by a tenth of a second than his previous record, but the boy was proud of his accomplishment nonetheless. Zolt had told him once that his own record was one bolt per 0.9 seconds, as a result, the boy had set his goal to be 0.8 seconds, though he never mentioned this to his master. This achievement, while small, brought him one small step closer to his goal.
Something had been nagging at him, though, something he was afraid of questioning, but also felt that he couldn't avoid any longer. Mako opened his mouth and attempted to speak, only realizing how dry he was from the training after his voice caught in his throat.
The boy reached down and grabbed a small bottle of water, two thirds-filled, at the side of the bench, then lifted the bottle to his lips. Mako chugged it down; In an instant, the water was gone, and Mako still thirsty, although he thought he could at least speak now.
"Why are you teaching me how to bend?" The boy asked with genuine curiosity.
"Because I'm your trainer." The triad leader replied, as if it was a perfectly valid explanation.
The boy gave his master an incredulous look. "You know what I mean. Out of all the Threats, new and old, I've never seen you training anyone else. Just me. There are plenty of others who could teach me to firebend. Why you?" Nobody else would have been that direct with the crime lord, even the highest up in the Triad, but Mako didn't fear his master like the others did.
"Are you asking for another firebending teacher?"
"No! Absolutely not." Mako blurted out without thinking. "I just wanted to know what you see in me."
Zolt considered the boy for a long moment, contemplating on whether or not he should reveal something to him. "It's your eyes." Zolt said finally.
"What?" Mako asked, perplexed by the response.
"Your eyes. I see something there, every time I look at them. Anger, resentment, hatred, all repressed, but still visible to those that know what to look for. I've seen it before, years ago. Every time I looked in the mirror." Mako looked at Zolt's eyes now, trying to find something of what the crime boss spoke of, but what he saw surprised him even more. Pain. There were no tears, but there didn't need to be any.
"You lost someone, too." It was a statement of fact rather than a question.
"It was a full moon when the Red Monsoons attacked. They stuck one of our warehouses, killing everyone in sight. During the full moon, waterbenders have the ability to bend the very blood in our veins, and the Red Monsoons love it. For many of them, it's practically an addiction. They enjoy the power it gives them to hold another's life in their hands. We only survived that night because we outnumbered them and had the advantage of being in a familiar location." Mako had heard the stories of the bloodbending gang, their old leader, Yakone, in particular, who they claimed could bloodbend any time of the month. Mako had partially thought the other Threats were trying to frighten him, but he knew now, looking into Zolt's eyes, exactly how real they were. "We survived the onslaught, but it was just a distraction. They kept me busy while another group went to my house, to kill my wife and son."
"What happened to them? The ones who…" Mako trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence, as if speaking it could somehow make it more real than it already was.
Lightning Bolt Zolt smiled, but with the pain still evident in the crime lord's eyes. "I tracked them down, one by one, and put a lightning bolt through their chests." Zolt paused for a long time, allowing Mako time to think over the information he was given. Mako never knew that Lightning Bolt Zolt ever had a family, although, now that he had thought of it, he could picture him as a father very easily. "That's why I wanted to train you, kid. I want to help you get the same closure I got."
"You want me to take revenge on the one responsible for killing my parents?" Mako asked, already anticipating the answer.
"What I want you to do doesn't matter. What matters is what you want to do."
The boy looked down, lost in thought. He remembered the bolt shooting through his mother's gut, the electricity surging through her. He remembered her blood coating the cement where she lay. Then, suddenly, the scene was reversed. The lightning bolt shot through the murderer, instead. It was his body laying on the ground. Above him, stood the eight-year-old Mako, fingers outstretched from where the electricity shot from his fingertips.
"I want to kill him." The boy said at last. "I want to make him die for what he did to my family."
Zolt smiled again. "Good. Let's make that happen, then."
"You seemed like such a good match. Makes me wonder why you ever left." At the sound of Vaatu's taunting voice, the memory seemed to shift. In an instant, Mako's body aged ten years, and Zolt's figure froze in place, as if it were carved from wax.
Mako shook his head in his newly found lucidity, trying to get the sleep out of his eyes, an effort he figured out in the next moment was futile while he was still dreaming. No, not dreaming, he now realized. Remembering. He hadn't been sure the last time, but now he was positive. This dream was different than any he ever experienced before. It was a perfect reconstruction of a memory from Mako's childhood. "You're controlling my dreams. What are you after?" Mako glanced from side to side, expecting Vaatu to manifest himself in this dream world. He didn't.
The spirit of darkness laughed, deep and guttural. "Simply some entertainment. I spent Thousands of years locked away within a tree. If I must be imprisoned again within your mind while you rest, then I should at least be able to make it interesting."
Mako could hear the lies and deceit oozing from the other's words. There was something more to it than just the spirit's amusement, but he couldn't figure it out. Why had the spirit chosen this specific memory? Why the last one? Did it need know something about the triads? Mako knew immediately that the Spirit of Darkness would give him nothing, no matter how many times he asked.
Perhaps he didn't need Vaatu to give the information up willingly at all. If Vaatu was capable of reading Mako's mind, then perhaps the relationship was symmetrical.
Mako reached out with his mind, searching for whatever the spirit hid from him. He had no idea what he was doing, but it worked, somehow. He could feel Vaatu's presence within him, dark and corrupting. All he had to do was reach…
"No!" Vaatu shrieked, as searing pain raced through Mako's mind and body. Mako screamed, but pushed through the other's mental barriers, still. Images rushed passed him, flooding his field of vision; most were unfamiliar but he recognized some as being of Raava. Mako willed the images to go further into the future. Now he seen Unalaq, Korra, Jinora, Bolin and himself. He was getting closer, he knew, but the pain still lashed out at him. He had trouble holding on to his own thoughts now, as if a thick cloud of smoke had enveloped his mind. The next wave of images flooded in, this time, all taking place within the last couple days. He was so close. It was as if he could just reach out and touch it. But what was it? He couldn't remember what he was searching for. And it hurt so much.
Whatever it was, it couldn't be this important. Mako let go of Vaatu's thoughts. The last ten years vanished, suffocated by the smoke that clogged his mind. He was a child again. From there, the memory played out exactly as it had happened.
Lightning Bolt Zolt and the eight-year-old Mako stood as one, master and student. Mako returned to his position in front of the punching bag, and began striking it again with the electrical attacks, this time, picturing the bolt piercing through the man that murdered his mother and father. When he was done, Lightning Bolt Zolt would tell him that he averaged one bolt every 1.5 seconds, but he wouldn't care this time. He had a new goal now.
Author's Note: Okay... So here's the thing. I wrote myself into a bit of a corner with this, which is the reason I haven't been back to it in so long. A large part of the plot depended on one of the characters doing something very out of character, and once I realized that, I didn't want to go through with it. So I'm putting this on a bit of a hiatus while I figure out what I'm going to do. I'm so sorry about this, everyone.
