A/N: Yay, a new chapter! :) Thanks to all you readers who are still with me and those who take time to leave a review. I love hearing from you! :)
Ozai woke like a drowning person breaking the surface of water. His eyes shot open, his lungs raking in air, the dream still clinging to him like cobwebs. He sat up, kneading his temples, and tried to drag the edges of his mind back into order.
Night cloaked the ship in darkness and quiet. He rose and picked up a matchstick from on top of a crate in his cabin, cursing as he struck it once, and again, with no success, cursing that he was reduced to such antiquated means. Finally, it hissed to life and he lit the single lantern on a crate beside his cot, watching it flutter in a draft until it marked a dark stain on his vision and his eyes burned.
The dreams were becoming more frequent. Or rather, dream, he thought. There were often subtle differences – a change in landscape perhaps, at times barren and isolated, at others lush with flora and teeming with creatures beautiful and macabre. But there were marked similarities too. The sounds were usually the same – the burbling of water from somewhere out of sight, undulating like music in the air. The whisper of voices carried on the wind, an echo of words that all fell apart before they reached him. Voices, or maybe one voice, looping over and under itself until it was a chorus of ghostly whispers, the words just out of reach. Part of Ozai always wanted to lean in, to listen, to strain until he could make out what it was saying. But there was an unshakable sense of warning – maybe even fear – that he couldn't quite place. A sense that he was an intruder, eavesdropping on forbidden words, trespassing in a world of whispers where he didn't belong and wasn't welcome. So he let the garbled voices murmur on and did not lean his consciousness into it, did not give it shape.
Despite the differences, the dream always plunged him into the same world. Of this he was certain, though he couldn't say why. Like the kind of unequivocal, soul-deep knowing of an inherent instinct, he just knew.
But it was the why of it all, the reason for the dream's recurrence, always in the same world – questions unraveling like a thread fraying in a dozen places, loose ends leading to more questions but never answers – that tormented him. What did it mean?
What was happening to him?
Ozai pushed the thoughts away. It was foolish to let it vex him, it would lead him nowhere, as it always did. He opened his cabin door, rising up the creaking stairs that led up from the hull. The wind had picked up and as he stepped onto the deck he was met with a gust that filched the air from his lungs and whipped the hair around his face.
The night sky was studded with stars, but thick, low clouds were moving in now to smother them, a shroud of black velvet on diamonds. His brows pinched in a frown and he came up behind the captain who stood at the helm, a stern face gazing at the horizon. He did not turn but he must have heard him approach because he did not seem startled when Ozai's voice broke the quiet.
"How is our progress? When are we slated to reach the island?"
The captain, a man named Lu Da, was of squat height and stocky build, short and broad, at least two heads shorter than Ozai. But any sense of less-than ended there. On four fingers of each hand, he wore large rings of various makes and designs, each one different. Tattoos covered both his muscled arms and wound up to encase his thick neck. Even his face was etched with a dark, ornate pattern that curved over his forehead and brows, along his bulbous nose, and down around his mouth and chin and jawline. Two shiny silver scars carved into his cheekbone and over the bridge of his nose. His black hair was shaven all except for a stripe in the middle that ran the length of his scalp. And five small hoop earrings adorned the curves along both ears. Despite his below average stature, Lu Da made up for it with intimidating bearing.
"We are on schedule," the captain said in his thick, raspy voice, "and as long as this storm holds out, we should be there by early morning."
The captain had been a privateer in the Fire Nation Royal Navy under Ozai's reign. The man had become notorious for his unflinching willingness to do the more unsavory jobs others might shy away from, earning himself the nickname Dirty Hands. His morally flexible reputation had quickly made its way to Ozai and before long they had formed a sort of partnership. Lu Da would lead the less tasteful, albeit entirely necessary, errands behind the scenes of the public eye and Ozai would compensate him accordingly. It had been the perfect picture of a symbiotic relationship, until the coup lead by his traitorous son and that whelp of an avatar.
Ozai drew in a long breath and let it out with control, steadying himself and his mind as he scanned the vacant horizon. The time would come for retribution. But only if his plan succeeded. He had to remain focused.
Their trajectory, an island known as the Onyx Isle for its black, rocky coastline, was once a gathering place for sages from all four nations to convene and study differing bending techniques, to learn and grow from each other. The island had been home to a sanctuary of sorts called Goldenglow Keep that included a library full of all their texts and scrolls, a wealth of knowledge and wisdom. But over the centuries, technology and new modes of travel had shortened the distances between nations, communication easier and more commonplace, and the sages' work was eventually rendered obsolete. The library, along with the island it inhabited, was abandoned.
Legend said that within this sanctuary were kept four powerful relics – the Windstone, the Sunstone, the Earthstone, and the Moonstone. These artifacts served as keys that could open two different portals connecting the veil between the mortal and spirit worlds. If these portals were opened, it would essentially tear a hole in the veil. The pillars that held together the fabric of the cosmos and sustained the Avatar line would then be left exposed and vulnerable until they were closed again. Thus, why the relics were locked and secured safely away somewhere in the private sanctuary. When Goldenglow Keep had finally been sealed and locked down, the ancient scrolls and artifacts were shut away forever.
There was no telling what condition he might find the island in, how he would enter the sanctuary if it was indeed closed up as the legends claimed. But he would get in. One way or another. Of that he would make absolutely sure.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
The first light of morning washed the world in a dreary monotone, like all the color had drained out. Grey mist curled off the brooding waves like sea serpents breaching for air. Ozai had returned to his cabin but sleep had eluded him there, or perhaps a part of himself had eluded sleep, and finally, when the black outside his window had begun to weaken to a barely discernible shade of grey, he had reemerged on the deck to scan the horizon for that tiny spit of land.
It was a long time looking into the curtain of bleak fog, squinting as his eyes struggled to find purchase, something to focus his vision on. And then – maybe it was a trick of the eye, a mind muddled from broken sleep, impatience impressing on his imagination – a tiny black speck amidst the grey, like a drop of ink on parchment. He squinted again, half expecting to blink it away, when the captain turned to him.
"There she is," Lu Da said, pointing with a stubby, ornamented finger. "The Onyx Isle."
A short time later, the ship scraped against the stony shore as it made berth. The coast of the island was such a profound, unfathomable black, its surface glossy with sea spray, that it looked as if oil had been spilled across its surface. In the middle of the slice of land loomed a tall stone cylindrical structure half concealed by fog.
Ozai gave quick instructions for Yao and Zhang to guard the waterbender as he secured his sheathed sword onto the belt at his waist and threw his satchel over his shoulder. Lu Da grabbed up his crossbow and arrows from his cabin and then the two of them disembarked, making their way toward the heart of the island, to Goldenglow Keep.
Dried grass and rocky earth crunched beneath their feet as the dark fortress took shape in pieces through the patchy fog. A lofty tower stone tower rising up between two lower wings on either side. The timeworn surface of the building told of its ancient past. Ropy vines were breaking through cracks in the stone blocks that made up its surface. The top of the tower was half-crumbled away, rubble scattered on the ground amidst dead clumps of grass. A pair of faded red, arching double doors were set into the center of the Keep at the base of the tower. An inscription had been carved into the stone above, now illegible, eroded by centuries of wind and rain.
"You think it's warded?" Lu Da asked.
Ozai studied the decaying structure. "Probably." The sages would not likely have abandoned the Keep without fortifying it against thieves and intruders. But in its condition, it certainly didn't appear foreboding and he wondered if it was possible for a ward cast hundreds of years ago to weaken with the tides of time. He supposed it was possible, but unlikely. They would need to be ready for anything.
Ozai started forward, ascending the pitted stone steps up to the arching entrance and looked around. He ran his hand lightly along the surface of the doors and examined the handles. He cocked his head and bent down to look closer. Signs of damage marred the place where the doors latched together. Chunks were missing from the solid, heavy wood, deep brown pocks hewn into the chipping once-red paint, the handles scarred and bent. It appeared someone had tried to break in before.
Ozai straightened and yanked on the doors. They shuddered and gave a low groan but held fast. He yanked again, harder, and this time there came the faint splintering of brittle metal inside. The hint of a smile perched on his lips. It seemed the someone who'd come before may have done most of the work for him.
He gave the handles one last forceful heave and then the lock gave way with a sharp crack, shards of wood and metal raining down. A burst of chalky dust and musty air hit him in the face and Ozai turned his head, coughing, as Lu Da appeared beside him.
"You know that feeling when you're breaking into an ancient fortress and it opens a little too easy and you get those warning twinges in the pit of your stomach?" Lu Da's eyes were fixed on the darkness through the doors. "Yeah, that."
Ozai peered into the shadowy depths of the tower's belly. Something stayed his steps and a pang of caution mirrored Lu Da's words. He didn't know what he had expected, but he had not expected it to be so easy. Ozai shoved the thoughts out of mind and told himself it was just age that had weakened the structure. He had made it this far and, anyway, he didn't have a choice. What he needed lied somewhere within these walls. Spirits be damned, he wasn't turning back now. So, with a breath, Ozai steeled himself and stepped inside.
It took a moment for the murky interior to take shape. Ozai was standing in what once must have been a grand, rounded cathedral inside the cylindrical tower. From the looks of it, it had likely been the central gathering place. Two impressive stone pillars rose from floor to ceiling, and in the center of the chamber stood a large wooden table beneath a circular hanging candelabra. Numerous chairs surrounded the table, some upright, others toppled on their sides.
Ozai advanced slowly and quietly into the great room, sallow light spilling in through the open doors behind him. Curled dead leaves and withered sheets of yellowed paper skittered across the floor in a draft. Overgrown tree branches and meandering vines encroached through the narrow paned windows, broke through holes in the crumbling stone. A tattered tapestry, faded by age, fluttered gently against the wall between unlit lantern sconces. To Ozai's left, a spiraling stone staircase wound up and out of view. To his right, another curled down toward a chamber below. Beside each staircase stood a grand arching door that must have led into the fortress's adjacent wings.
As he reached the center of the grand room, he saw that the table was still set in places with rusting metal dishware and cutlery, a tarnished decanter, embellished platters now corroded. Echoes of a time long past. At the far wall sat an empty hearth with an iron pot and a cooking spit. Ash scars marred the stone from past fires. Ozai imagined this place must have been a sight in its prime.
"Where do you suppose they kept the library?" Lu Da asked, his voice echoing in the dark.
Ozai glanced toward the staircases. From what he knew of the place, the underground chamber had been reserved for sparring and demonstrations, for studying bending techniques. That only left one option.
"It's on one of the upper levels," Ozai nodded and advanced toward the stairway.
Lu Da faltered behind him. "One of the… how many levels does this tower have? Ten?"
"Twelve," Ozai said flatly as he started up the spiral of crumbling steps.
He heard Lu Da grumble a curse as he fell into step behind him. The rooms on the first floor up were nearly empty, save for one with two standing candelabras wrapped in cobwebs and an old chest. The next two floors held several small bedchambers. The two men continued to climb up the soaring tower. Another three floors, more cobwebbed, dust-laden remains.
When they reached the tenth floor, the staircase dead-ended onto a landing before a door. Ozai frowned. He was sure he had counted twelve floors from outside. Lu Da met his gaze with one cocked brow. Ozai set his teeth and wrapped his hand around the large cold metal handle and pushed.
The headquarters of the Rebel Resistance was nestled in a cliffside hideout overlooking the ocean along the western coast of the Fire Nation. It was late morning but the haze cast the land in washed out tones of grey, the line where the sky met the sea smearing together.
The Rebel Sanctuary had not been easy to find. Azula had finally sniffed out the hidden tunnel leading to the wooden door set deep in the side of the cliff. In the dim light of the tunnel she barely registered the image of a phoenix painted on the wood. The espoused symbol of the resistance. Azula knocked. Waited. Knocked again. She tapped her foot on the ground, examining her nails. Finally, a small window in the top of the door slid open, revealing a cold set of brown eyes.
"Who are you? What are you doing h–?"
"The one they call Matsu the Cleaver. I'd like to see him, if you please."
There was a slight pause as his brows drew lower. "The Boss expecting you?"
"Hardly a soul on earth's expecting me," she scoffed. "Now let me in."
"Sure." She could hear the doubt in his mocking tone. "Right after you tell me the password."
"Ugh, what is this, some school children's secret clubhouse? I suppose you have a super-secret handshake too?" She rolled her eyes, cutting a hot glare his way. "Bunch of maggots. Do you really not know who I am?"
"I know you're testing my patience right now," the man said in a tight growl. "No one sees Cleaver without an appointment. And absolutely no one gets in if they don't know the password."
"Then try this one. Open the door or I'll kick it down and open your skull."
"That's cute," he laughed. "But before you try, how bout you tell me who you are so I know what name to have engraved on your headstone."
Azula smiled then. A sharp, cold, biting smile. She held out her hand, palm up, and watched the man's eyes go wide with the slack expression of shock as blue flame danced and curled above her open hand. She relished the moment as his shock melted into awe and reverence.
"You can call me your new Cleaver," she said.
"Princess Azula…" The eyes behind the window blinked rapidly. And a moment later several locks scraped and the door opened. Azula flashed a hard smirk and closed her fist, the flames dying to nothing at her whim, and stepped inside.
One of the first things Zuko had set out to do after becoming Fire Lord was to create an agency to help restore peace and balance after a century of war and devastation. His efforts, along with the help of his advisors and new international allies, resulted in the birth of the Concord Assembly.
The Assembly was comprised of six representatives from the Earth Kingdom and Fire Nation, and three representatives from each of the Water Tribes. Their central mission was to uphold peaceful international relations by working to resolve any conflicts that arose and maintaining the conditions that would allow harmony to hold and flourish, as well as delivering military reinforcement and humanitarian aid when needed.
The structure was situated on a large plot of land in the eastern pocket of Capital City. Now, as Zuko sat next to Aang inside the palanquin, the movements jostling them gently, the building was coming into view in the distance, partially obscured by the thick veil of haze blanketing the city. Something in him tightened as he studied it. He had hoped the Assembly would prove helpful when needed. He could never have imagined he would need it for this.
Zuko and Aang had started out the ride trying to make sense of what was happening. Zuko's father and sister on the loose. Katara's disappearance. The mounting evidence against her. Aang seemed unequivocally convinced of Katara's involvement, adamantly so. And Zuko certainly could not deny the way it looked. But a small, guilt-ridden part of him still wanted to extend her the benefit of the doubt until concrete evidence proved otherwise. After all, it was his fault that he had led her on, allowed her to believe there had still been hope for them. And a part of him still wished there could be, despite everything. Still longed for her embrace. The end was forced on him as much as it was on her. He had not woken up one day and accepted that it was over. As though he could simply shrug off his love for her like a robe at the end of the day. As though it could ever be that easy.
Eventually, when Zuko had stopped responding to Aang's rantings, the palanquin had dissolved into silence, studded only by the shuffle of servant footsteps outside and the murmurings of the city streets. Finally they arrived in front of the green double doors. An emissary of the Assembly was waiting and stepped toward them with a small smile.
"Fire Lord Zuko. Avatar Aang." She bowed gracefully. "Welcome. My name is Maho. Please, follow me."
They were escorted through the doors, down a hall, and then into a large auditorium with polished bamboo floors. One wall was lined with seats, filled with the waiting members of the Assembly, plaques with their names and representing nation on the long table in front of them. In the center of them, in a partitioned booth, sat the Grand Councilor, who was the overseer of the Assembly's peacekeeping and conflict resolution branch.
"Fire Lord. Avatar. We are honored by your presence. I do wish we could be met under better circumstances."
Zuko and Aang gave a slight bow, hand into fist. "Thank you, Councilor," Zuko said. "As do we."
"We were briefly updated by the Head of Police this morning about the ongoing investigation. The Assembly would, however, appreciate an accounting in your words of how you believe Ozai managed to escape the world's top security prison. How Azula escaped the asylum. Do you believe the rebels were behind it all?"
Zuko cleared his throat and slid a glance at Aang before returning his gaze to the Councilor. "We have not been able to confirm that, no."
The man frowned. "It almost sounds as though you are not convinced the rebels are indeed at fault here. Do you suspect another force at play?"
"I'm afraid it's too early to say yet. However, there is another very pressing matter for which we would request the Assembly's immediate aid. You all have been acquainted with Princess Katara of the Southern Water Tribe, one of my close advisors. She has gone missing in the wake of these prison escapes and we believe she may be in danger. We have reason to suspect that she may be with Ozai."
A modicum of shock flashed on the Councilor's face, there and gone, quickly replaced by his grave façade. He cocked his head and studied Zuko for a beat too long. "You say that she may be with Ozai. You did not say that you believe she has been abducted." He raised his brows. "Is Princess Katara a suspect in these crimes?"
Zuko swallowed. He resisted the urge to chew his lip – a very un-Fire-Lord-like gesture, Mai had reminded him more than once – and squared his shoulders, met the Councilor's gaze. "We cannot–"
"All we know is Katara was acting oddly in the days before the Prison Tower and Asylum break-ins," Aang cut in. "She was not herself."
"Does the police force know of your suspicions?"
Aang and Zuko shared a glance. "Only that she has not been seen since," Zuko admitted. "Avatar Aang and I would like to keep the rest quiet unless we receive more evidence in support, given the fragile state of affairs at present and the importance of her role in international diplomacy. Which is why we are asking the Assembly to launch a covert investigation into the matter."
The Councilor drew in a deep breath and sat back in his chair with a long exhale, thoughts churning behind his troubled eyes as he looked between Aang and Zuko. "Permission to speak freely, Fire Lord?"
"Yes, of course, Councilor."
He hesitated only a moment. "The Assembly is not ignorant of your relationship with Princess Katara. And it is not of our interest nor our intent to discuss the matter, as that should remain a private subject to His Majesty. However, one might say that your closeness to the Princess could obscure your better judgment and opinion of her. And I believe the implications of the deterioration of your relationship does warrant some investigation into the matter."
Beside him, Zuko saw Aang nod his head firmly. Zuko's chest felt tight. He pressed his lips into a line and gave the slightest dip of his head in concurrence. He did agree, of course, which was why they were here. But he hated to admit it. That Katara could really have brought about such destruction.
"If Katara is innocent," the Councilor continued, "it will come to light quickly. But either way, the Assembly is in agreement that we must act immediately. With Ozai and Azula's escape, we fear it is only a matter of time before the rebel conflict erupts into a full-blown civil war. This could spell destruction not only for the peaceful international relations Your Majesty has so earnestly strived to instate, but could threaten your own rule as well. The rebels would like nothing more than to depose you and reinstate one who aligns with your forefathers' ideals, perhaps Ozai himself, perhaps even, Agni forbid, Azula. Add to that the possibility, albeit a hopefully small one, of Katara's involvement, and we could be on the very brink catastrophe. We will immediately recruit forces from the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribes and will also dispatch the Assembly's emergency guard to help stamp out the rising tensions and reinforce the Capital. In the meantime, we will launch a private investigation into the disappearance of Princess Katara and the two fugitives."
Sensing the conclusion of their meeting, Zuko bowed again and Aang followed suit. "Thank you, Councilor. Assembly. Your aid is very much appreciated."
"It is our duty and our pleasure, Fire Lord," he bowed, and then again, facing Aang. "Avatar. We will be in touch with anything of consequence." The Councilor rose, followed by the rest of the Assembly as they all bowed in unison, like an undulating wave, and then Maho appeared again to escort Zuko and Aang from the building and back to the waiting palanquin.
Aang was climbing in when Zuko put a hand on the young Avatar's shoulder. He turned back, the unspoken question on his face.
"I think I'll walk," Zuko said simply.
Aang crinkled his brow. "You can't walk alone in the city right now. It's not safe."
"I'll be careful. I just need…" He trailed off, lowering his eyes.
Aang gave a quiet sigh, his shoulders softening a degree. "I'll walk with you."
Zuko dismissed the palanquin with a wave of his hand and the servants hesitated a moment, exchanging concerned glances before quietly obeying.
The two of them walked in silence. The first hints of the coming dusk dampened the hazy sky. Zuko wondered if Aang still wrestled at all with conflicting feelings for Katara the way he still did. Wondered if he still nursed a modicum of resentment toward Zuko for her choosing him over Aang, for Zuko choosing her love despite their friendship. If he could do it over again, he doubted he would do things differently, much as he wished he could have the chance. And that bothered him as much as anything.
Zuko rubbed his temples, trying to quiet his thoughts. Sleep. Sleep would help. If only sleep were so easily reached through a troubled mind.
It took a forceful push for the door to budge as it swung open slowly with a long, deep sighing groan, like a beast waking from an ancient sleep.
Lu Da released an audible exhale. "Would you look at that."
The chamber sat deathly still, their breath the only motion in the air, musty and stagnant. Ozai and Lu Da stepped quietly through the library. Dust drifted heavy through the pale grey light that leaked in through cracks in the walls and pooled on the floor at their feet, part of the tower's roof having crumbled away. The damaged vaulted ceiling loomed over a soaring cylindrical room, ascending the height of the final two floors, the pinnacle of the tower. Covering nearly ever inch of the rounded walls were shelves and shelves of books and scrolls. Narrow tracks of wall broke between the shelves to uphold now-darkened lantern sconces. Two tall rolling ladders were affixed to opposite walls – or rather, the one continuous curved wall – to give access to the loftier shelves.
Standing guard at even intervals were twelve giant stone statues, men and women, each in a different pose, some holding a book, others a scroll, and still others with arms poised as though in enlightened conversation. They wore the traditional garb of the four nations in a repeating pattern – earth, air, water, fire.
"Where do we even start in a place like this?" Lu Da asked. A sudden flutter of wings came from the darkness high above as the words carried throughout the yawning library. His voice was an intruder in the heavy, ancient quiet. Out of place, unwelcome.
"The sages would not have kept artifacts and scrolls of this caliber out on the shelves. There must be an alcove somewhere, a place they would have been locked away, safe. You start searching this half of the room, I'll take that half."
Ozai crossed to the other side of the library, watching the floor as he stepped for any oddly placed tiles or fissures, anything that might signal a trap. The floor was pitted and uneven, worn from the feet of many people over many years, but nothing out of the ordinary. Strange. All the relics, artifacts, hoards of ancient knowledge in this place that could prove devastating in the wrong hands and it just… sat here? Like a forgotten used wares store, waiting for someone to discover it? It didn't seem right.
Something buzzed under the current of his conscious – a feeling, a forewarning – and he took heed while guardedly swatting it away. The sooner he found what he was after, the sooner they could get out of this place.
He reached a wall of shelves packed as far and wide as he could see with tattered books, yellowed scrolls, dotted with bizarre knick-knacks. Between one shelf and the next, against a bare track of wall, sat an old round table covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. Ozai ran his fingers along the ancient markings carved into the wood, leaving a trail of dark lines in his wake. The table was still littered with items – shriveled roots, hawk feathers, some sort of spindly branch, bowls of something now unrecognizable in rot, vials and flasks, some empty, others filled with moldy liquids and powders. Set into the table was a shallow, round divot beneath an angled glass tube leading into a glass bulb. An herbalist's table, or an alchemist's, perhaps.
Ozai started to move on but something on the table caught the thin, muted light and winked softly in the corner of his vision. He turned back, searching for the source, and finally found it at the back edge of the table. A small jade disk, polished to a sheen, carved with runes. Ozai picked it up and turned it over in his hand. It was oddly heavy for its size. Odder still was its gleaming surface, seemingly untouched by the thick coating of dust that had enveloped the rest of the library.
A corner of his mouth turned down as he studied the object, turning it over again, and he considered pocketing it but ultimately decided to return it to its place on the table. He had no plans of inviting unnecessary trouble, should the thing be enchanted. Not until he had what he came for.
He strode further, his eyes grazing over a statue of a woman in Water Tribe clothing as he went, scanning the walls, the shelves, the floor for any hint that might lead to something. He glanced toward the other side of the library, to where Lu Da was ambling in a similar fashion. The captain retrieved a worn book from a shelf, leafed through it, put it back, moved on.
Ozai made it to the farthest side of the library, opposite the entrance, and Lu Da was nearing the mark himself. And still, they had found nothing more than the dusty corpse of a once magnificent structure. Threads of doubt were spinning dark webs through his mind. What if it had only been a legend? A fairytale, a children's bedtime story? An embellishment at best? All of this would have been for nothing. All hope would be lost.
A muscle tensed in his jaw. No, he wouldn't settle for that. Legends, he knew, always contained a grain of truth. And if he had to sift and comb through and pick apart every inch of this place, he would find it.
His eyes scoured the remaining walls of shelves as he walked. Past the halfway point and on toward where Lu Da was edging up his side of the room. Another break of lanterned wall…
Something registered in his mind – some minute peculiarity, maybe just a trick of the light. Ozai stopped, blinked. He turned back and studied the narrow track of wall, the cobwebbed lantern sconce. Something seemed off about it, though he couldn't place why. He reached up to touch the cool sculpted metal and realized the sconce was slightly crooked, almost imperceptible. To one side where it hung secured against the stone wall, the corner outline of the sconce was ghosted into the wall, the stone there a shade darker than the rest.
Ozai tentatively wrapped his fingers around the base of the sconce and felt it shift just slightly under his grasp. He gave it a nudge and the sconce slanted further. Equal measures of hot and cold rushed through his abdomen. This could be it. The sconce angled as Ozai pressed it further, further until it was nearly horizontal. And then, the low, rumbling grind of massive stone on stone as the wall opened, slowly receding into a slot in the floor, revealing a shallow chamber and…
Another door.
The small taste of victory vanished. Ozai clenched his teeth and resisted the urge to sputter the profanities roiling through his mind. This door, a solid, heavy wooden one, was unlike any he'd ever seen. It was ornately carved from top to bottom, in an intricate pattern. In the center were four concentric rings, one inside the other. Each was engraved with the four elements in a seemingly random pattern. In the center of the rings was a shallow, circular opening.
He felt the air shift as Lu Da came up beside him. "Looks like a puzzle." He said. Then, with a sigh, "I hate puzzles."
Ozai brought a hand to the largest ring, running his fingers along the carvings. The ring turned slightly under his touch. He turned the second one, his eyes flicking between the different rings. An idea formed in his head. He moved the largest ring so that water appeared at the top. Then the second until earth aligned below it. Then the third, fire, and the fourth, air. The cycle of the Avatar.
He waited.
Waited.
Nothing happened.
"That would make sense…" Lu Da started.
"…But it's too obvious," Ozai finished. Of course, the sages would not have made it so easy. He knew he was on to something though – there was a pattern these rings were supposed to follow – but there were so many combinations, it would take an eternity to figure it out.
Ozai exhaled a tight sigh and turned around, scanning the cavernous chamber. Was there a hint somewhere? Something he had passed over?
His vision caught on the statues circling the library. He followed them around the room, his eyes widening a degree, understanding washing over him. Earth, air, water, fire. Repeating. A pattern. It was worth a try.
Ozai aligned the rings again.
Again, nothing happened.
He scanned the door, looking for another hint, something, anything. His eyes settled on the round nook in the center. Something unfurled in his mind and he remembered the odd jade disk he had found on the herbalist's table. The size was about the same. Probably a coincidence, but…
Without a word, he stalked back to the table and retrieved the gleaming disk, blowing past Lu Da on his return. The captain didn't question, just watched with an incredulous lift of his brow as Ozai inserted the circular stone into the opening.
It fit like a hand in a glove and suddenly the emblems started glowing and the rings started turning, and then, finally, the door slid open with a long scrape.
"Belch me a limerick," Lu Da said under his breath. "You actually did it."
"You doubted me?" Ozai said flatly as he stepped inside.
"Never," Lu Da returned with a curl of his lips.
Behind the door, Ozai was surprised to find only a small, shallow chamber, empty save for a chest against the back wall. It stood on four tall, spindly metal legs. Its long, rectangular body was studded with gemstones and boasted a glass top. Ozai peered inside. The sight made him simultaneously swell with victory and run cold with dismay.
Inside the chest, upon a plush purple overlay, sat what could only be the Earthstone and Windstone, radiating with a faint glow of green and white respectively, next to a rolled-up scroll. Where the Sunstone and Moonstone should have been, on the other side of the scroll, was empty space.
The Sunstone and Moonstone were missing.
The web of curses that had been knitting itself behind his consciousness now surged forth under his breath in an endless stream. He didn't go through all this trouble just to come away with half of what he needed to open the portals. What good was opening only one portal? What good were two stones to him? He needed all four.
Lu Da rubbed the back of his neck and blew out a puff of air. "Well. It's a start. Let's just bag them and get out of here. Figure the rest out later. If I know you, which I dare say I do, you'll find a way to track down the other two."
Ozai grimaced and stared in dismay, as though the missing stones might materialize if he willed it strongly enough. His fists clenched and unclenched as he took in a deep breath, released it sharply. Perhaps it was another safety measure – the other two stones having been holed away someplace else when the sages left. That would render it almost impossible then for someone to get their hands on all four, to open both portals and endanger the Avatar line.
Almost. Impossible for some, perhaps. Not for him. If it cost him his very soul, he would see this through.
Ozai tried the handle of the chest but found it locked. Naturally. He no longer had the patience for this. In one swift motion, he drove his cloaked elbow down hard into the glass covering. It shattered, glinting shards raining down on the plush interior of the chest and scattering across the floor. Slivers of glass bit into his hands as he picked up the stones and the scroll and stuffed them into his bag.
From somewhere out in the library, a deep, grumbling, gravelly sound like stone grinding on stone echoed through the chamber and travelled through the floor, shuddering beneath their feet. Ozai stiffened and Lu Da shot him a look. The two men crept quickly back through the strange set of doors into the library, and froze. The air rushed from Ozai's lungs.
The twelve colossal statues were somehow alive, turning to face them, their eyes blazing a vivid, menacing red. And those red, red eyes were trained directly on them.
"Shit." Lu Da stumbled back a step. "Yep, definitely warded."
"I knew this was all far too easy." Ozai's eyes darted to the door on the other side of the library. If they could just make it there.
The stone beings took a giant synchronized step toward them. Something ominous churned behind those raging eyes just before a beam of scorching hot fire burst from one of the statue's sockets. Ozai and Lu Da dove apart as the blast exploded in a plume of flame where they had been standing a moment before.
Ozai rolled to standing, drawing his blade as the absurdity of the weapon sunk like a weight in his chest. Lu Da jerked the crossbow down from his shoulder and nocked an arrow in a single fluid motion. Ozai heard the captain give a solitary strained laugh.
"How much chance do you think my baby here stands against magical stone demon things?" He let the arrow fly. It ricocheted off a statue with barely a sound, just a faint thwick in the deep chamber. The creatures advanced with another massive, grinding stride.
"Yeah, didn't think so."
Sets of red eyes started churning dangerously and Ozai shot Lu Da a quick glance. "Make for the door, now!"
They bolted across the library between the giant encroaching statues, heavy stone feet striking the floor around them in a shuddering thunder. Another burst of fire erupted on their trail, narrowly missing them, and then a second and a third, flames licking at their heels and the hems of their cloaks.
They reached the door and Lu Da threw himself into it, wrenching the handle. It wouldn't budge. Ozai picked up a large rock and shoved beside him, crashed it against the handle. There was an odd burst of light as it hit and he was thrown back, white hot pain shooting up his arm. He doubled over, clasping his hand to his chest.
Warded. All of it. They were trapped.
Ozai scanned the room in a flurry. Stray sparks and licks of flame were catching now on shelves and books, tendrils of fire like greedy fingers reaching, devouring. His gaze flicked to the gap in the soaring ceiling – too high – and there were no windows, no alternate entries. No way out at all.
A curse cut through his thoughts as another four blasts came hurtling toward them at once. Ozai and Lu Da lunged out of the way, but the force was so powerful and the breadth of flame so large it caught on Ozai's pants, the edge of his cloak, the ends of his hair. He rolled to the ground, the sharp, acrid scent of singed hair, the blistering heat on his skin registering faintly amidst the surge of adrenaline as his eyes snagged on a large crack in a strip of lanterned wall.
In the breath of a second a desperate idea took shape in his mind and then he was sprinting toward it, his hands white-knuckle tight against the hilt of his blade. Another blast somewhere behind him and he didn't turn to see if Lu Da was trailing him. In one concurrent motion Ozai skidded to a stop and thrust his long, slender blade into the crack in the wall and angled it with force, putting all his weight behind it. The crack began to splinter and spread. With another heave, Ozai tore his blade back and kicked the fissured wall hard. Stone collapsed and crumbled away, shattering against the ground below and leaving a large hole in the wall.
He edged toward the opening and turned then to see the captain dashing toward him, a thin trickle of blood leaking above his brow. Ozai gripped the jagged sides of the remaining wall and looked down. Eleven floors would be a long fall. Most likely a fatal one. He doubted the vines gripping the stone walls were strong enough to hold them. Though there might be enough crags and crevices between the stones to fit hands and feet…
Thundering stone footsteps rumbled the floor beneath him. Given the two options, he'd take his chances. He signaled to Lu Da. "Let's go!"
Ozai sheathed his sword – it had proven useful after all – and crouched, quickly swinging his legs over the side, his feet finding purchase, and began to climb down. Lu Da was lowering himself over the edge when a blazing plume of flames erupted and caught him on the side of his face. The captain screamed and lost his footing. His hands and feet clawed at the tower as he skidded down, a thrashing hand finding Ozai's leg and wrenching him down alongside him. Ozai grunted and ground his teeth, digging his hands and feet into the stone as they found footholds again. His fingernails were cracked and bloody, his arms shaking. Below him, Lu Da's ragged breath was thick with pain. Ozai could feel the distant shudder of heavy footfalls from above against the stone tower. They had to hurry.
Half climbing, half sliding they scrambled their way down the tower's worn surface, a blast of fire whooshing dangerously over Ozai's head once, twice. At last they dropped onto the spongy earth amidst the rubble and took off running back toward the oily-black coast where the ship was waiting.
Their footsteps thundered across the wooden boards as the two men sprinted onto the ship. Ozai weighed the anchor and shot a glance at Lu Da. The side of the captain's tattooed face was an angry red, raw. The skin where the fire had hit was no longer decorated with ink, the flames having burned through flesh, and was now shiny as it began to ooze, blistering. A memory flashed, a scar so similar of his own doing once. He cut through the thought like a hand through smoke, dissolving it, and regained his focus in an instant. They would need to treat the wound before infection set in. He hoped Lu Da kept a medicine kit on his ship.
The captain's posture was slightly diminished from the pain but he seized the helm, giving it a hard turn, and soon the Onyx Isle was shrinking into the horizon behind them. As they set course, Ozai receded to his quarters. He made a mental note to check in on the waterbender shortly, but there was something he had to do first.
He dropped his bag down on his cot and opened it. The two stones glowed faintly from inside – one almost white, the other green – and he felt a strange pull, like hunger, to hold them in his hands. He ignored it and instead retrieved the piece of rolled up parchment. Eagerness burned behind his tawny eyes as Ozai cut the string binding it and unrolled the scroll in his hands. The paper was yellowed and brittle and he had to hold it carefully so it would not rip in places.
He raked his eyes over the words.
And his stomach turned to stone.