"He is born again! I feel him! The Avatar takes his first breath on the slope of the Serpent's Pass! He is coming! He is coming! He lies in the surf and cries like the cracking of the earth itself! The Avatar returns to bring Balance out of Chaos!"
Tamra Ospenya, Watcher of the Waves, Keeper of the Flame, Amyrlin Seat and Avatar, flinched as Gitara, her Keeper of the Chronicles and close friend for these many years, began to rave. She immediately chided herself for the reaction; where had her self-control gone? She knew: it had gone with her clothes and her authority and Gitara's sanity, and in their places had come the fear and chains and powerlessness and madness. And the pain. Not powerful, not blinding, but small and pervasive and constant; a faint memory of the tortures she had endured.
Still, Tamra thought, she may as well try to calm her friend in what must be her final hours. She quietly felt her way in the darkness until she could grasp Gitara's hand.
"It's alright, my friend, everything will be alright. I am here, not in Serpent's Pass, here in the Tower. Remember when we created the Tower? A hundred earth and waterweavers, dancing in unison to create the greatest building the world has ever seen. Do you remember the wonder we all felt that day?" Tamra kept talking as Gitara began to relax, not really worrying about what exactly she said. How could it matter?
Finally, the Keeper replied to her in a whisper.
"They didn't trust us, did they? They did not understand what we were doing for all weavers, for the world. How many of the girls we found would have become benders had we not found them? We brought stability out of the chaos."
Chaos… A voice whispered in her mind, with another whispering Balance… close behind. Tamra had read that other Avatars had experienced spirit quests where they interacted with their past lives. She herself had never had one; just those voices, often seeming to argue, always seeming mad. She would give almost anything for accurate records of the lives of her predecessors, but none seemed to have survived. Why was that?
A creak from the door interrupted her musings. Light spilled in, almost blinding her as a number of people started entering the small chamber. As her eyes adjusted, she saw that they were all women, all wearing black masks that covered their features. Beside her, Gitara began hyperventilating, but Tamra compelled her body to stillness. They would not break her – they wouldn't! A new figure, taller than the rest and seeming to command their respect, entered. Surveying the chained women, she clicked her tongue.
"I hear that you have been most defiant, Tamra. That is going to end. Soon, you shall tell me everything you know. And not because I ask you to, either. No, you will tell me everything for one very simple reason; because then, and only then, will I let you die.
I deserve death… said one voice, and I cannot go yet… the other. Tamra strained against her bonds, trying to generate enough heat to melt the metal, to move enough to shift the earth. No use – the shackles were too tight.
"Who are you?" she asked the confident woman.
The woman smiled. "You know me. I am the figure of your childhood stories and your adult nightmares. Before, I was trapped as you are, but now I am free."
And, suddenly, Tamra knew. Her eyes widened.
"Semirhage."
And her world exploded in fire.