Pepipanda: They're a lot of fun to write too! I hope I'm doing all right; I'm trying to make it so the clues aren't too obvious, but not utterly impossible to figure out, either. Hehe, I think adding "T.M." adds to the fun… 'specially when you find out what it means! I'm having a really easy time writing his emotions about this – I won't go into detail, but my mother has been in a nursing home for the last seven years due to an illness… and honestly, I know how he feels. She's rather far away too, so I can't even visit her – I've only seen her once since I was seven. I can really connect with the whole Zuko/Ursa ordeal.

Thanks for the review! I looooove your long well-thought comments!

Element Goddess: I don't want it to be huge, but it'll be fairly long. You're right, though – I need to learn to slow my writing down, but I'm having a tough time with it. I've been waiting for a story like this too, but I finally said, "Fine! I'll do it if no one else will." I only hope I'm doing it justice!

A/N: This should be interesting… bwahaha! P.S. Anyone who knows where Sister Fatima comes from will get a hug!

"Wow," Katara breathed. "It's amazing."

"It looks eerily familiar," Zuko replied. This was true; something about the black sand and the very style of the houses rang a bell, but he couldn't place it. Chalking this up to the excitement of the last couple of days, he passed over it and let it be.

"What is it?" Toph asked suddenly from behind, causing her friends to jump – they had been thoroughly absorbed in the mural. "Whatever it is, I can't see it.

"It's a painting," Zuko said, "of a woman on a beach. My mother."

"We don't know for sure that it's your mother," Katara insisted. She reached forward and ran her hand over the image of the woman. "There aren't any real details – it could be any woman, really. If my hair where darker, it could even be me."

"It's her," he assured her. "I can tell it is. I can feel that it's her. It's hard to explain," he said to her quizzical look, "but I'm absolutely positive it's her. I would bet anyone's life on it." His voice was strong and sure, and his tone was proof enough that he was absolutely positive beyond a doubt.

He brought his own hand forward to brush against the woman in a longing sort of way. If only, if only…. He sighed.

Suddenly, there was a sickening screech sound that made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. It resonated off of the volcano walls and shot straight through his body like lighting. Just as he brought his hands up to cover his ears, it stopped. The earth shook terribly, sending him sprawling to the ground, despite his well-toned stance. After one final jerk, all was still and silent.

After sitting up on his knees, Zuko quickly called out for his friends and lit a well-sized fire in his hands.

He gasped aloud and dropped his fire again.

After summoning the fire back up, he looked around, his good eye wide. He was not in the volcano anymore – he was in a 'cave' made entirely of what appeared to be white marble with black waves going through it. The ground was smooth and flat, but the walls were slightly bumpy and rose to a nonsymmetrical point five or so meters above his head. To his left was an exit that seemed to be sloping upwards, and to his left was a similar opening that pitched down. The piece of wall that was directly in front of him – a few feet away – contained the painting that had been in the volcano, with one major difference: rather than being an actual painting, it was comprised of stained glass that was imbedded into the marble.

His mouth hanging open in a rather un-prince-like fashion, he looked around the room again, utterly confused. Katara and Toph were nowhere to be seen, and he certainly had no idea where he was. Taking a steadying breath and standing up, he kept a hold of his fire and glanced uncertainly at both exits. Sighing in exasperation, he looked at the stained glass image and wryly asked, "Which way?"

Much to his surprise (Though really, his subconscious reasoned, I should be used to these things by now.) the woman in the art moved her arm to point to his right. The rest of her body, however, did not move and she lowered her arm after a moment. "Th-thank you," he stammered, thoroughly shaken. He hesitated for only a moment before hurrying toward the downward inclination. The tunnel that the exit turned down into was only a few inches taller than he was, and came down to scrape the top if his head occasionally.

The tunnel seemed to be going into a descending spiral, but it was long and subtle. The walls remained the same white and black marble; there was nothing to look at on his journey down to the unknown except for the darkness ahead.

He couldn't really explain it, but he felt a sort of power radiating from the walls. It was soft and sweet, but also terrifying in the sheer force of the halo of energy. It brought a foreign energy to Zuko's body and soul that seeped through his skin and came out as a pale gold light that was slowly growing in brightness. He tried his hardest to ignore this oddity, remind himself that he needed to concentrate on finding Toph and Katara. Eventually he allowed his flame to go out because his own glow was more than bright enough.

At long last – he didn't know just how long he had been walking, but it felt like hours – he saw a faint blue-green light coming from ahead. He hurried forward and the light got brighter and brighter until he walked into a large oval-shaped chamber. In the precise middle of the room was an orb that was radiating the blue-green light; it was almost unbearably bright.

Squinting, Zuko looked around more closely as he stepped forward. The walls and floor were made of the same marble as the tunnel and previous room. The ceiling was very tall; looking up, Zuko could see that it had to go up at least 50 feet. Walking in slowly, he kept to the curved walls, still very uneasy with the whole predicament. Though, he pointed out to himself, my weird glow seems to have died down. Unless it's just not as visible because of the orb's light.

The orb, he decided, was a very freaky device that he did not want to have anything to do with. He made a mental note to not go anywhere near it as he continued along the wall, frowning at the lack of, well, anything. Besides the glow-thing, there was nothing. It was a very empty room.

After he had crossed to the other side of the room, he looked back at the orb and swore mentally. Of course, he thought angrily. There has to be a trap door right beside the stupid thing that makes me want to crawl under the nearest rock. Just my luck.

He knew full well that the only way he was going to find his friends (and his mother) was to keep moving and struggled with himself for only a few moments. He didn't know why, but he hated that thing. He glared at it – it was despicable and ought to be destroyed.

Gathering up all of the courage and strength he had gained in his training with his uncle, he walked forward. He avoided looking directly into the light, but he felt his heart burn with a searing hatred that got stronger as he walked. Using every drop of his will to keep from blasting the stupid thing into oblivion, he bent down to open the trap door. The clasp was stuck (Naturally, he thought bitterly.) and he fiddled with it, his frustration growing as it refused to budge.

"I don't suppose you'll help me?" he asked the orb angrily, throwing it the nastiest look he could muster. "I could really use it right now."

He wasn't sure whether or not to be surprised when the orb did nothing, but his fury at it increased. Just as he was about to try to smash it to smithereens, the clasp came undone and he was able to open the trapdoor. He froze. Voices rose from down there; they echoed and sounded far away, but he could understand every word they said perfectly.

"I'm telling you," the voice of an angry-sound man insisted, "I don't know where any of them are. They must be sneaking around somewhere. I haven't a clue where they are!"

"And I'm telling you," an equally irate woman said, "that unless you find them, you're going to suffer greatly. Go get them and bring them to me, and quickly!"

"Yes, Sister," the man said. Zuko could almost hear him scowling. "But where do I start?"

"I don't care, just so long as all of them are –"

Zuko quietly closed the trapdoor, frowning. His mother's image had told him that this was the way to go, but he wasn't so sure. He looked around the room helplessly; was it best to trust the directions of a stained glass window, or should he turn around and go all the way back? Yelling out in frustration, he threw a well-aimed fire kick at that infuriating orb and it smashed into thousands of tiny shards, the pieces flying every which way.

He felt a sudden rush of contentedness as the orb broke, despite the stinging sensations he felt where a few pieces of jagged material had bit into his skin. He gently pulled each of them out and then took a step backwards, alarmed. Right where the orb had been was a piece of slightly torn piece of parchment; unlike the orb itself, this paper made his heart leap happily, so he reached down to pick it up. Scrawled on the page was a simple sentence in a handwriting that he recognized.

Don't be afraid to jump.

Feeling once again as if his mother was guiding him with her hand in his, he tenderly folded the letter and tucked it away for safe keeping. The bent down and opened the latch on the trapdoor; this time, there was silence. He took a deep breath and jumped down into the dark hole. For a few short moments, he saw nothing – his eyes were closed – but then he landed with a small grunt and opened his eyes. The landing was soft; he appeared to be sitting on a mess of pillows and fluffy blankets. The walls were made of the same material as before, but they were blue in color.

He looked around for the source of the light he was using to view all of this until he realized that he was still glowing gold. Sighing at the peculiarity of the entire place, he stood shakily on the wobbly pile of fluff. He scrambled off of it, reached a blue marble floor and finally standing to his full height. Then he shrunk back in alarm: a woman stood before him, her slightly curly gray hair fell nearly to her ankles and her sharp green eyes bore into his very soul. She had a white priestess gown on and was smiling ever so slightly. He gaped at her.

"Welcome, young Fire Lord," she said, bowing. "You've come quite far to make it here." Her voice was that of the angry woman he had heard coming from the trapdoor – it was sharp and authoritative. Zuko said nothing; his tongue couldn't quite manage it.

"My name is Sister Fatima, young Fire Lord. Brother Finley is finding your friends right now – it appears that they were not quite so lucky in finding their way as you were. I understand that you have many unanswered questions, and I intend to answer as many as I can. It was your mother's wish."

At this, Zuko's tongue kicked back into action. "You knew my mother?" he asked.

"Well, of course. She made a painting, you see, on the inside of a volcano. She poured her heart and soul into it – she seemed to think it was of the utmost importance to make it absolutely perfect. When she finished, I brought her here."

"Why?"

"She needed my help," Sister Fatima said sadly. "She was distraught and confused; she had been away from home for a couple of years, missing her son terribly." She smiled crookedly before continuing, "That's my job, you see. I help people who need it the most. The people who have suffered a great deal of emotional trauma and may be going slightly mad."

Zuko remained silent, watching her uneasily. He felt he could trust the woman, but she was frightening.

"I helped her," she continued, "because I knew she was deserving. She gave everything she had to save you, young Fire Lord, and would have gladly done it again, even knowing the consequences. Her love was strong and pure and true: the love of a mother. But the pain of losing her was taking it's toll, and she began to lose focus. So I helped her to regain it."

"Where did she go when she left?" Zuko asked. He could feel his spirits rising again and the glow that his body was giving off grew even brighter.

"That I cannot tell you," Sister Fatima said, much to his disappointment. "But I will assist you as much as I dare. When your friends have been found – and that could take a while, for this place is enormous – I will tell you what I plan. In the meantime, you may stay here and think or read," she motioned to a very large bookcase that Zuko didn't remember seeing previously. "I will help with the search. Please, enjoy yourself."

Zuko found that he was not tired in the least, nor did his mind feel like sitting down and reading. He paced when she left, thinking and thinking. He tried to figure out where he could possibly be (The Spirit World, maybe?) and who these people were, but he really hadn't the faintest clue. Somehow "Sister Fatima" sounded eerily familiar, but he couldn't place where he might have heard it. He sighed.

He wanted answers. Still, he reasoned, there's no reason to make myself ill over it. I might as well get some rest. Hopefully when she finds Toph and Katara, I'll get the answers I want, and then I can find Mom. He scowled; he hated to wait. It was in a rather irate mood that he went to grab a few pillows and blankets from the pile.

You know I've heard about people like me

But I've never made the connection

They walked one road to set them free

Then find they've gone the wrong direction

But there's no need for turning back

'Cause all roads lead to where I stand

I believe I'll walk them all

No matter what I may have planned

Can you remember who I was?

Can you still feel it?

Can you find my pain?

Can you heal it?

Then lay your hands upon me now

And cast this darkness from my soul

You alone can light my way

You alone can make me whole

Once again

- a section of "Crossroads" by Don McLean