13 March. HARU
He wakes with a stiff, muzzy feeling of hot air suffocating him, sweaty and unwholesome. Ugh, why did we come here again? Oh right, it was my idea.
A slight rustle of paper, and he glances at the bed, where Azula is sitting up, perusing a scroll in her lap. She hasn't noticed he's awake, intent on whatever she's reading. There's a faint crease between her eyebrows as her eyes dart down the lines of the scroll, capturing every detail with acuity and storing it away for later. Every now and then she'll come across something particularly interesting and her lips will purse briefly, drawing her cheekbones into sharp relief.
She's… lovely, he thinks, almost afraid to verbalize it even inside his head, as if she'll hear him. Lovely in the way a candle flame is to a moth just before it self-immolates in fiery splendor.
They've known each other for six months, he realizes. Six months since he was shipped off to a terrifyingly foreign land, only to find a single homely place in the most improbable person. Since then, they've progressed to a sort of snarky friendship with moments of awkward, genuine sincerity, always stepping back from the edge when it feels their souls are rubbing together too intimately. Their pace has been slow as a snail-sloth, but in his understanding, this is as fast as Azula gets.
I think that I could fall in love with you. He prays that she doesn't hear this. There is no way she would ever consider him to be a suitable life partner. She's a princess, after all, linked to him temporarily out of convenience and a common goal. He can't ask for any more.
"What are you thinking so hard about?"
He jumps a little at her unexpected question. "Uh, just… wondering what you were reading?" Now that he thinks about it, he is curious as to what could be interesting enough to constitute pre-breakfast reading.
"Nothing that would pique your interest," she dismisses, but at his heated frown, she relents. "It's a scroll that Jinora gave me before she died. It contains the steps to a composite firebending dance form meant to be performed in the rain."
"A rain dance—we could definitely use some of that in the desert," Haru quips, amusing himself with the mental image of Azula trying to summon rainclouds through a ritualized dance.
"Don't be silly; it doesn't bring the rain. It's meant to complement an existing pluvial aesthetic. Anyways, it was written by former Navy Admiral Jeong Jeong, and that alone should be enough to discredit it as a worthy art form." She clucks her tongue in derision.
"Who?" It's as if their familiarity has progressed to such a degree that she's forgotten he's not Fire Nation, and Haru isn't sure how to feel about that.
She folds up the scroll, losing interest in its contents, and swings her legs over the side of the bed, ready to rise. "A deserter and known lunatic. No one has any information on his current whereabouts or activities beyond 'probably meditating in some godforsaken corner of the Earth Kingdom.'"
"Not unlike us," Haru points out.
She favors him with a shrug and a roll of her eyes in passing. "Maybe so, but unlike him, we're actually trying to do something about the war. Let's give ourselves a little more credit, shall we?"
He follows her out the door, quietly reveling in her sustained use of the conspiratorial 'we'. Yes, we shall.
HHH
It was a mistake to come here, he realizes as soon as they step out of the grimy inn to the sight of a babbling crowd gathered around two bulletins of a pair of very familiar faces: his own and Azula's.
"A thousand gold coins for the girl and five hundred for her lackey, now there's a fortune," one of the sandbenders comments, muffled voice through his veil betraying the greed behind his masked eyes as he and his companions advance on them.
"Surrender yourself quietly, and we'll get you safely home to daddy, alright sweetheart?" Another burly man with serpent tattoos down his arms croons, leering at Azula. "People will talk, you know, seeing you hanging 'round with such riffraff."
At his side, Azula bristles, as much at the slight to Haru as to herself. "Riffraff?" she snarls indignantly. "Well, look who's talking."
If their situation weren't so dire, Haru would probably faint dead away at what amounts to a glowing compliment from Azula. Oh joyful day, I'm one step above riffraff.
Everyone wants their reward for being in the right place at the right time. They're cornered, encircled, and Haru would rather not start a brawl and risk being caught in the crossfire, unable to escape.
"Uh… gentlemen," he begins. "You might not have had time to do the math, so I'm taking the liberty of helping you out there. Fifteen hundred gold coins does sound like quite a sum until you realize that you'll have to split it between all of you." He gulps nervously, estimating the size of the crowd of bounty hunters hungrily pressing forward. "Comes out to maybe thirty coins each on the outside; not worth the trouble, I'd imagine."
"Thirty gold coins is thirty stiff drinks after a long day of hunting rabble-rousers like you," the sandbender growls, unswayed. "I'd say it's worth it."
"Not if I can help it." Serpent Tattoos has other ideas. "Fifteen hundred is enough for me to retire comfortably, and none of you all is going to get a cut."
That's the spirit. Everyone seems to have the same idea and lofty ambition: singlehandedly bag both of them while fending off fifty others from their prize. Fat chance of that happening. Still, their own chances of escaping unscathed are low at this rate, and he's sure that Azula's tempted to just reduce the whole place to ashes with a sweeping blast of lightning. That would leave them no means of escape, though.
"Any ideas would be welcome," she hisses, drawing a blank herself. Just then, a newcomer arrives to the scene.
"Stop! They are mine," an imperious voice rings out, and ah, not a newcomer at all, but rather Tin-Hinan the Great, silver crescent pendants catching the early morning sun as she strides purposefully towards the edge of the crowd.
Everyone turns to see who the new challenger is, and this is their moment. He yanks Azula down low, close to the ground as he spins violently, throwing out a centripetal blast of sand in all directions and knocking most of the crowd off their feet.
"Come on!" He thinks of nothing but the perilous present as he grabs Azula's hand, the two of them fleeing in Tin-Hinan's direction. Her smile is dark and knowing, stained like the indigo beams of her ship, full to bursting with confidence in her survival and victory, none of which Haru is feeling right now. He'll celebrate when they're safely out of here.
The bounty hunters are still stumbling in their confusion wrought by Haru's sudden dust storm, grappling in the dark and searching for their prey. "Take my sandsailer and take to the desert," Tin-Hinan instructs him. "Remember what I told you."
"There is a place deep within the desert where you may find the answers you need."
"What about you?" At his side, Azula clucks impatiently, and Tin-Hinan shakes her head benignly, a luxurious, slow arc that belies how little time they have before their pursuers catch up.
"You have enough to worry about; do not presume to add me to your list."
"But—"
"Go. If the desert finds you worthy, it will spare you. Take care that you do not repay its mercy with evil. Go!"
TIN-HINAN
Last night, she had not been sure, but now she has no doubts. Spirit-eyes and his princess may be outsiders, but they at least mean the desert no harm. The Fire Nation as a whole, however, must be stopped, and Tin-Hinan alone can stand in their way.
"Why do you call me spirit-eyes?" he asks curiously as he follows her onto the deck of her sandsailer. Under the cold moonlight, she cannot tell what color his eyes are.
"Have a guess," she challenges, reminding him of their game. Answers are not cheap in their world.
"Well, maybe there's some kind of spirit of the desert tribes that has eyes like mine? That's the only plausible explanation."
She smiles grimly. "Maybe one day you will live to see it."
That day has come.
The two vagabonds have made it to her sandsailer, but if she does not guard their tailwind, who knows how far they will get. The bounty hunters (parasites), temporarily stunned, have regrouped and lope towards her like starving jackals, crazed with gold lust. If they head into the desert, the Fire Nation will follow in pursuit of their fugitives, and it will be the beginning of the end.
"They say the Misty Palms Oasis is sustained by spirit magic; that's why the ice doesn't melt. Does it have anything to do with that?"
Oh, he is a bright one. It's a shame he's already spoken for.
The oasis is the only gateway into the desert. Without refilling their water at its doors, no travelers can last long in the hot sands, which is why Tin-Hinan plans on uprooting it.
Slowly, surely, she bends the sands around her to her will, standing at the center of a small cyclone that grows ever wider in circumference, buffeting the crowd around her. Men lose their footing and stumble, then fall to the ground, unmoving, choked by the sand like air in their lungs. It won't be long before they are buried.
None who live in the desert can afford to stagnate, and the oasis itself is an example of that. The tribes move as the wind dictates; it is the only way for them to live. Within the chaotic turbulence of her sandstorm, Tin-Hinan crouches down and calls out, a summons to the one who sleeps.
Spirit of the oasis, awaken. You have slept long enough.
The earth rattles, a mountain begins to rise out of the sandy plains, and a breath resonates throughout the land, is the land and the people. Under her feet, it rises, and sand pours off the edge of its surface, burying those who fell beneath it still deeper. They will never be found, and none will follow them.
Beneath her, a vast being blinks into wakefulness, pebble-green eyes sharp and ancient, not bleary with sleep. She stands on its head, separated by a short gorge from the rest of the oasis, the sorry little inn that's little more than rubble now, and the icy springs maintained by the magic of the sleeping lion turtle. She bows low, resting a hand on its surface to steady herself as it surveys its surroundings and the destruction around it.
"Greetings, ancient spirit."
HARU
"Wow." He has no words for the sight behind them, just as awesome as the desert's expanse before them.
"The oasis was really a giant lion turtle all this time." Azula follows his gaze, watching what used to be the Misty Palms Oasis lumber away into the desert, far in the distance. "And now it's gone."
So that was why she called me spirit-eyes. But how was she able to awaken the lion turtle?
"Why did she help us?" Azula demands, ever suspicious. "You mentioned what she said: nothing in the desert comes without a price."
"It doesn't quite make sense, does it?" He tears his eyes away, leaning back into his sandbending stance and starting up the currents again. They need to get a move on. "She's pinning her hopes on us to find a spirit library hidden in the middle of the desert and a solution that will douse the Fire Nation in the noontide of their strength and prevent them from growing powerful enough to take on the desert, her homeland. It's a lot to gamble, but I suppose she had nothing to lose by helping us either."
"Hm." Azula doesn't sound convinced. "Or she was just so charmed by your gallantry yesterday that she took quite the shine to you."
He squints at her in the periphery of his visual field, trying to deduce her tone. Why would she say something that's so beneath her dignity as a princess? "Are you… jealous?"
"What?" She whips around to glare stonily at him. "Of course not! Don't be ridiculous."
Right, of course not. It's not like he wanted her to be. Frankly, they have more important things to worry about as they enter the desert. He offers his silent thanks to Tin-Hinan, wherever she is now, and a blessing to the desert. May it harbor them without ill will for as long as they must stay.
16 March. Journal entry #2. Written by Sokka with contributions from Toph and edits by Katara
Much has transpired since our first journal, which was… over a month ago now. Sorry about that…anyways, I'd like to devote this entry to describing recent events during our travels (Katara: obviously, Sokka, that's the whole point of a journal. Sokka: *AHEM*)
We've just left Gaoling with the fruits of our labor assured. The Beifongs' Earthen Fire Refinery has pledged its aid in securing a literal mountain of iron ore to be transported to the White Lotus armory outside Ba Sing Se. Thanks to Toph's mother strong-arming her wimp of a husband into complying, we've got plenty of raw resources to equip our forces. Toph really does take after her mother. Before we left, we paid a little visit to the Earth Rumble arena where she used to be champion until my hero, THE BOULDER, seized it back from her.
(Editor's note: to clarify, Toph was the champion of Earth Rumbles V and VI, having won the sixth championship just before leaving with Aang and Zuko. The competition takes place quarterly, and Earth Rumble VII was held three months ago, when Toph wasn't around to participate.)
Anyways, she wasn't going to take that lying down. We happened to arrive just in time to sign Toph up as a last-minute entrant in Earth Rumble VIII against defending champion and longtime rival THE BOULDER, but Toph issued a special challenge. Basically, she dared all the contenders to take her on at the same time, and every loser (that is, everyone who got knocked out of the ring) would be sworn to join the White Lotus at Ba Sing Se.
Naturally, everyone went wild at the chance to engage and possibly defeat THE BLIND BANDIT, and long story short, they all lost. (Toph: well, were you expecting any other outcome?) So now they'll be accompanying the ore shipments along with Dad and the other warriors and reporting to White Lotus headquarters on behalf of our efforts against the Fire Nation. All in a day's work (Toph: you mean, all thanks to me. Toph out.)
We're in Meikuang now, a coal mining village where Zuko once rescued a couple hundred earthbenders and evicted the Fire Nation squatters by turning into a tree (Toph: hey! Aang and I helped. Katara: I thought you'd signed out? Toph: well, I am now.) They were pretty enthusiastic when they heard what we were up to and wanted to join us for the day of Sozin's comet. Zuko must've really inspired them (Toph: to be honest, his speechmaking skills at the time were terrible, and he didn't even dare to use his real name. I'm pretty sure I should take all the credit for riling them up. Katara: why are you still here? Toph: GOODBYE.)
So we've got quite a following now. Oh, guess what? We saw a wanted poster of Zuko's sister and her accomplice. First of all, the family resemblance is uncanny. Second, Zuko seemed to be under the impression that his sister would never betray the father lord, but she seems to have gone rogue. Does that mean she's switched sides? What's up with her? Also, her accomplice—is that the right word? Sounds too nefarious when we don't even know their intentions yet—is also from Meikuang and got kidnapped away to the Fire Nation before Zuko came along and bailed them all out. It's a small world, isn't it?
Well, not much else to report here. Everything's going pretty swimmingly, a few more stops here and there and I think we'll be good to head to the Northern Air Temple and regroup with Zuko and Aang. I hope they've actually been training and not just over the moon with each other all the time.
SSS
"Spirits, I think we need to start this one over. This time I'll write," Katara remarks, looking over Sokka's shoulder at his garbled transcription of their journal entry.
"Don't you dare!" he says defensively. "We're making history here, and I need to record it exactly as it happened, interruptions and distractions and all. This is how we'll be remembered to future generations."
"As a squabbling trio of teenagers trying to make a difference, no matter how minute?" she says pointedly.
"What are you getting at?"
She sighs. "All these earthbenders we're recruiting, all this ore we're smelting, will any of it really give us an inch of headway against comet-powered firebenders? Will there be future generations to remember us?"
Sokka lays his brush down, quietly fanning the still-damp paper so that the ink dries faster. Despite all his earlier brashness and confidence about the validity of their efforts, he seems to deflate now, less sure of himself.
"I mean…" he begins. "I haven't not been thinking that too. But if I always leave it on my mind, I'll go crazy thinking of how little we can truly do."
Katara nods. She and Sokka understand this at least, both having experienced being the weaker link in a team of matched talents: Katara before she trained properly in waterbending, Sokka without any elemental bending. She doesn't think Toph realizes how powerless they are, having been so invested in the indomitability of her earthbending talent for most of her life. She wonders if Aang and Zuko have considered this as well. They have much to talk about once they return to the Northern Air Temple.
Sokka scrunches up a ruined piece of paper from earlier journaling attempts and sets it aflame with the candle on his desk. "It all comes down to that accursed comet." He tosses the flaming paper to the ground in a parody of Sozin's fiery ball of doom, and the wad of paper gradually burns itself into ash.
"If we were up against regular firebenders on a normal, comet-less day, I'd say we have a chance, what with all the resources the White Lotus is pulling in, with the Avatar on our side. Ba Sing Se can't fall in a fair fight."
"But with the comet, it's a different story entirely."
"So it boils down to: how can we pull the firewood out from under the pot?" Sokka rests his forehead in his palm briefly, frustrated. "How can we eliminate the source of their power and take the advantage?"
She shrugs. "Maybe we could politely ask the comet to go away?"
"I doubt it would be that agreeable. Ooh, maybe you and Zuko could use waterbending to freeze it into ice." Sokka is inspired. "I bet in the Avatar state, he could at least freeze enough ice to hold it still for… maybe a few seconds."
"Yes, because that'll make all the difference."
They come to a defeated caesura, deflecting through humor and a lifetime of biting back their fear with lighthearted words and grim hope. It has sustained them this far.
21 March. AZULA
"Well, looks like this is it." Azula regards the lone spire of the alleged spirit library poking out of the ground, standing bare and lonely amid miles and miles of hot sand.
They've been traveling through the desert for a week, one of the longest of Azula's life but oddly also the lightest and most unburdened. After their escape from the oasis, none of their pursuers had managed to catch their trail, and they blitz through the desert rapidly thanks to Haru's newly learned sandbending. She has to admit she's impressed at how rapidly he's progressed (not out loud, though), even if he attributes their speed to Tin-Hinan's powerful sandsailer. With it, they are able to speed across the desert without delay, the massive dunes doing little to hinder their path. The sandsailer is well stocked with food and water, and with careful rationing, they make it last. Sleeping during the blistering hot days and riding during the night keeps them from losing too much energy and hydration through sweating.
What little of the desert they can see by moonlight awes her: the stark indifference of miles upon miles of sand, all burning hot, all willing to waft over you at the slightest disturbance in the breeze and cover an unwitting soul forever. A wasteland, sentient and godlike in its senseless cruelty. Death means nothing to it.
In spite of all they have weathered, they've finally reached their goal. The majority of the library, including the main entrance, is buried beneath the sand, but there's a small window open in one of the spires. A brief search turns up some sturdy rope in Tin-Hinan's sandsailer, and with bated breath, they shimmy their way up the tower into the depths of the library.
It's eerie and drastically cooler within its stone confines, so silent that Azula can hear her heart pounding furiously in her ears. Down and down they descend, mostly through empty space but sometimes passing long bridges that span a vast gorge, and Azula realizes that to either side of them is the library, stack upon stack of dark, ominous cloisters. Each arch is illuminated only by a single glowing green light unlike any earthly flame. They reach a walled courtyard at the very bottom and touch down lightly, afraid to break the silence.
"Well, I guess we can just walk in and start browsing, no need for a library card?" Haru asks no one in particular.
"That will depend on what you can contribute to my library in return for using its knowledge."
A giant owl regards them stonily from the opposite end of the courtyard, its beady black eyes fathomless and piercing.
"I am Wan Shi Tong, he who knows ten thousand things. And who might you be?"
"Shouldn't you already know, since you know so many things?" Haru retorts flippantly, ignoring the fact that they shouldn't be backtalking to a huge spirit owl while they're still on the wrong side of its cruelly sharp, hooked beak.
"Hmph." The owl spreads its wings and soars lightly to land before them, even more imposing from this close up. "Humans. The doings of two such insignificant beings is beneath my knowledge."
"Uh, actually, we're two extremely significant beings; look, we're highly sought after." Haru has the idiocy to whip out their wanted posters from the oasis. "I can't believe you didn't know. You're talking to Crown Princess Azula of the Fire Nation, firebending master and sister of the Avatar, and uh… Haru son of Tyro of Meikuang."
Erstwhile earthbending teacher and indispensable friend, Azula adds before mentally slapping herself. That's not information a spirit—or anyone, for that matter—needs to know.
"Hm… my knowledge-seekers did not inform me of your identities. This is indeed a serious gap in the breadth of my wisdom that will have to be remedied immediately." Wan Shi Tong examines the posters thoughtfully. With a beckon of his massive wings, he summons a meek-looking fox that takes the posters in its mouth and slinks off into the stacks. "Very well. I will accept your contribution."
He turns to Azula expectantly. "As for you, Crown Princess Azula of the Fire Nation?"
Without fanfare, she reveals from inside her sleeve a plain scroll tied with a red ribbon. "Please accept this original work of art by a famed master." It's the rain dance scroll; Azula has memorized all the forms already, so she has no more need of the text itself.
"Intriguing. My library has been somewhat lacking in the area of interpretive dance," the spirit says appreciatively, though menacing at the same time. "In that case, feel free to peruse my collection, on one condition: you may not misuse the knowledge in this library for the intent of destroying others. The spirits do not engage in human wars, and I expect any visitors to my library to do the same."
Wan Shi Tong fixes them with a long, unnerving stare, empty black eyes challenging them to defy him.
"Technically, we're not destroying anyone," Haru says once they're out of earshot (hopefully) of the spirit. "We're trying to prevent other people from destroying everything. I think he'd be okay with that."
HARU
Azula tells him to meet back up in three hours and promptly disappears into the stacks without a word, so Haru heads in the opposite direction, wondering how he's meant to know when three hours are up. Maybe he can ask one of these foxes that the spirit apparently uses to collect and file information? Wild.
He wanders around, pulling books at random and trying to steer himself in a direction that might prove useful. The stacks aren't labeled terribly well; perhaps their filing system makes more sense to spirits than to humans. One moment he's reading a book about the tea brewing customs of ancient Air Nomads, and right next to it is a book about Fire Nation mythology specifically dealing with evil water spirits and their appearance near places where victims of drowning died—hm, maybe not the best bedtime reading, that. And just two shelves away from that, he turns up a thick tome dedicated to detailing the intense political controversies during the reign of Earth King Ping, mainly centered around his delusion of actually being one of two twins separated at birth, raised as a commoner, and later secretly brought into the palace to replace his identical twin brother upon his death.
What under heaven…? He closes the book, dismissing it as a load of nonsense. How is he ever going to find anything that might help in this illogically organized library of gloom?
…can spirits read minds? He's pretty sure Azula can, but he definitely wouldn't want Wan Shi Tong overhearing his complaints about the owl's beloved library.
The hours pass, and he finds himself rather thirsty as he browses through the dusty shelves. The air is thin and dry here, and the likelihood of him finding a nice drink is about nil. Sadly, he's left his canteen above ground in the sandsailer. Of all the times to forget an essential need…
A fox materializes at his elbow, peering inquisitively up at him. "Would you happen to have any water?" he asks it.
The fox bounds away, looking over its shoulder at him after a few steps, and he decides to follow it. Before long, he hears the burbling of flowing water, and he hurries forward eagerly.
Before him stands a shallow basin in a wide, brightly lit room, light with no apparent source just glancing off the water as it projects through the air. It's a fountain… in the middle of an underground spirit library. Today really has no end of surprises in store for him.
Cautiously, he approaches—he doubts there are any evil water spirits lurking around here, but just to be safe. He dips a finger in the fountain, but nothing happens.
He has heard legends surrounding water from the spirit world: it's supposed to be magical in its healing powers, though he's not sure how it's meant to be used. Ingesting it doesn't seem to confer any particular sense of well-being, he finds as he cups a mouthful between his palms and drinks, but it tastes fresh.
"Hey, do you think I could take some of this home with me? It's really nice water, my compliments to the owl," he tells the fox, feeling immensely foolish at conversing with an animal. It seems to understand him, though, because after a pause, it brings him a little glass vial strung up like a pendant. He collects some spirit water and tucks it away for safekeeping. Who knows? Maybe it'll come in useful.
AZULA
The thing about teaming up with Zuko to defeat their father is that he's not going to want just that. There's so much more to the Avatar's job description than just killing the Fire Lord, and Azula's sure that Zuko in all his self-righteous, justice-laden Avatar glory will want to do everything required of him as master of the four elements. Which means that it's Azula's job to figure out how exactly to help him do that.
Killing the Fire Lord is a symbolic act, one meant to decapitate the Fire Nation army and strip it of its hope. Yet even without their head, there is much havoc they can wreak. Ozai has a fleet of airships specifically designed to burn every stretch of land between the west coast and Ba Sing Se to ashes. He has forces trained on the city itself, intended to swarm in once the walls are breached on the day of the comet. Even if he dies, his army will continue without him, flaming bright as the sun until it exhausts itself, and there is no force on earth great enough to stop it.
That's why they've come to a spirit library. If no human force can quench the Fire Nation's fury, perhaps the spirits can be of service.
The library contains a very comprehensive section on the Fire Nation's history, though much of it Azula has studied extensively since childhood. However, some things are new to her, and she browses with care, selecting only those tomes that seem most likely to bear fruit in her search for answers.
Sozin's comet last appeared almost a hundred and fifty years ago on the day of his birth, long before the war began and anyone had the idea of weaponizing the heavens for earthly gain. It is due to return this summer, just three months away. It confers incredible power to the element of fire while it is present in the sky. Legends report firebenders being able to soar to immeasurable heights, evaporate entire lagoons with the heat of their bending, and accurately aim blasts over gorges that span almost a quarter of a mile. Azula wonders if these powers rival even the capabilities of the Avatar state.
The term 'day of Sozin's comet' is somewhat misleading, as the comet's effects are noticeable for a maximum of twelve hours starting at dawn on that day itself, peaking around midday and fading when the sun goes down. That is more than enough time for the Fire Nation to win, though.
She knows enough about her father's plans to predict how thorough the damage will be when all is said and done, but nothing here has yet informed her if there's any way to stop the comet. She sighs and opens the next book, resigned to finding out what she already knows.
This one is a little different in that it doesn't deal with the happenings surrounding the comet. Rather, it tells of another astronomical event that occurred long ago, equally as devastating but in the opposite sense.
On the twelfth day of the twelfth month in the seventh year of Fire Lord Sozin's reign, the darkest day in Fire Nation history befell us. The sun was devoured alive, its luminous disc disappearing from the skies and leaving everything under the heavens in darkness. Without its lifegiving rays, the people gnashed their teeth and tore their clothes, weeping in despair, for the sun spirit had forsaken them. All was bleak and desolate, without the slightest hope of redemption.
Azula rolls her eyes at the lurid picture painted therein, skimming the rest of the flowery prose until she finds some more concise commentary by a modern scholar explaining the phenomenon described in the passage.
Sozin's early reign was darkened by an inauspicious occurrence: a total solar eclipse, the kind which only takes place once a century at most. The physical explanation for this is that the moon passed in front of the sun, casting its shadow on the ground and preventing any sunlight from reaching the earth. Without the power of the sun spirit, all firebenders were rendered unable to control their element, thus marking this day as the darkest in Fire Nation history. The time elapsed, from the beginning of the full eclipse to the moment a sliver of the sun reappeared, spanned no more than ten minutes, yet it left every firebender in the land totally without their bending.
Azula looks up from the book, the empty halls of the library the only witness to her stunning revelation. It's as if the heavens themselves wish to shower her in good fortune today. She and Zuko had never learned about the solar eclipse from their history books or their court tutors. Azula can guess why her great-grandfather suppressed all knowledge of this event from public records. A paranoid old soul like his would hate for anyone to expose a weakness unique to the entire country.
Incredible. Even astronomers of the other three nations, when taking note of this heavenly disturbance, might not have been aware of its effects on firebenders and thus remained ignorant of the potential advantage it confers over the Fire Nation. Azula knows now, but it remains to be seen what she can do with this knowledge.
She flips ahead, scanning every line for more useful information. According to the author, the next eclipse will not occur for quite some time. Azula does the calculations in her head: it's more than twenty years in the future. There's no chance of relying on an eclipse to magically incapacitate all firebenders in a timely manner. This turned out to be a dead end after all.
There has to be a way, she reasons. The sun is the source of all firebenders' power, this she has known all her life, and so it makes sense that a solar eclipse would be the antithesis of that. But no eclipse is due, and they are running out of time.
Perhaps it's possible to manufacture an eclipse, she thinks fancifully. Or shall I just command the sun to stop shining for a bit? The heavens know I've had worse ideas.
Despite the improbability of it all, the longer she stares at the text, the more convinced she becomes.
It is commonly known that there is a spirit who guides the moon, as well as one who steers the sun. Ordinary people have little to do with the spirits themselves, and not much is known about their ancient origins, but one person alive is in a position to communicate with them.
She smiles, the first true spark of hope reemerging after months of running blindly through a thicket of deepening despair. How convenient to have the Great Bridge for a brother, to be able to play a card that their father cannot possibly anticipate, to have a chance at bringing order to this chaotic world.
AAA
Elated with the promise of her discovery, Azula tucks the book under her arm and heads off to meet up with Haru again. For once in all their painstaking travails, they've finally gotten what they came in search of. She finds herself surprisingly satisfied to achieve a goal she's worked hard for—not something that's applied throughout most of her childhood.
"What did you find?" Haru asks when he sees her coming, expression triumphant and winning.
"The solution," she answers cryptically, wanting to tease his curiosity. It's too good to keep to herself, but she'll let him guess for a bit.
"Was it a recipe for a balm that makes you burn-resistant? Because that's just about the only thing I can think of that can help against firebenders. That, or maybe a time machine so that you can resurrect Hou Yi, the great archer of old who shot down nine suns? I figure if he can shoot down suns, he can shoot down a comet," Haru theorizes at random.
"It's debated whether Hou Yi even existed or if he was purely based on legend, so I doubt a time machine would help you there." She hefts the book in her arms to show it to him. "This is the answer. We can't stop the comet, and there's only so much we can do by stopping my father. What we need to do is wipe out the source of all firebenders' power: the sun itself."
"Are you crazy?" He knows the answer to that question even as it slips from his mouth on reflex.
"It wouldn't be permanent. If I can get Zuko on board with this, all he would need to do is convince the spirit guardian of the sun to fabricate an eclipse. Essentially, make the sun stop shining for just long enough to force a surrender at Ba Sing Se."
Azula does have some reservations about the feasibility of this aspect of the plan. She suspects Uncle Iroh has his own agenda, having been inexplicably 'on vacation' for months without any news. In fact, if she recalls correctly, he left shortly after Zuko 'died', and it's possible that he even had a hand in falsifying Zuko's death. Whatever the case, he will not be idle, and if the city is to stand fast before the assault of the comet, they will need his support and expertise.
"Okay, let me see if I've got this right. You're planning to tell Zuko to tell the sun spirit to stop shining so that the firebenders who are expecting to get a magic comet boost end up losing their firebending and either get totally wrecked or surrender themselves, and all's well that ends well?"
"More or less."
"You are crazy. I have no idea if any of that will work, but either way, it's so you."
Her breath catches slightly on the fond crinkle of the corners of his eyes as he shakes his head, incredulous, at her audacious plan. "What do you mean?"
"Mad genius, probably going to get us all killed, might work, though, who knows, and totally unpredictable, through and through. What is that if not you in a nutshell?"
"On the contrary…" A dread voice resonates in the hall behind them, unnoticed until now. "Humans are so predictable, and you are no exception."
Shit. That busybody owl…
"You never seek knowledge but to use it for the destruction of others. Knowledge for knowledge's sake? Hmph. Try again." Wan Shi Tong stalks toward them, and they retreat in haste, uneasily aware of the wall at their backs, nowhere to hide in his domain. "So, who are you trying to destroy?"
"Well, ideally, no one," Haru says, ever the peacemaker, trying to reason with an infuriated spirit of knowledge. "Uh… so, we'll just be going now, thanks for letting us use the library."
"Unfortunately, I have other plans." Rearing up to his full height, Wan Shi Tong spreads his wings, vast enough to block out much of the light in his dim hall. "I am bringing my library back to the spirit world. No longer will humans use it for their evil purposes, though you may enjoy it for the rest of your admittedly numbered days."
Around them, the walls begin to shake, dust and sand crumbling from cracks appearing like varicose veins, bulging and unstable. The ground itself seems to be sinking, and the sand accumulating there rises higher and higher like a desiccated tide.
"He's collapsing this place—we've got to get out!" Haru grabs her sleeve, and out of the corner of her eye, Azula sees the end of the rope dangling from the ceiling where they'd let themselves in. Here's to hoping they make it far enough to evade the spirit. "Come on!"
Before they can reach their target, one of Wan Shi Tong's powerful wings knocks the rope loose. They duck aside, fleeing towards the cloisters, but apparently spirit owls have detachable necks, and all of a sudden, Wan Shi Tong's sharp beak and abyss-like eyes are way too close for comfort.
She yanks Haru aside, rolling for cover behind a massive statue, and this isn't good. They're trapped in this collapsing library at the mercy of a deranged owl, bound to be buried along with the knowledge they've gained, forever lost to history.
No. She won't let it end like this.
"Give me some cover," she hisses even as the accursed owl snakes its neck around in search of them.
"What?"
"Anything, just distract it for a moment!" She leaps out from their hiding place, running for the center of the circular hall, gazing skywards at where that one sliver of daylight inexorably recedes, and with it, their hope of escape. Behind her, Haru rallies all his force into pelting the owl with a volley of sand and stone, temporarily blinding it, though this also serves to further enrage it.
She gauges the distance. It's a long way to fall, but their lives are at stake here. There's no time to lose. She tenses her body, willing all the energy she can to spread through her, and slowly, she lifts off the ground, the jets of flame under her feet sustaining her flight through the air.
"Do keep up, Haru!" she calls over the pandemonium, and he looks up to find her a dozen feet in the air already and accelerating. Come on!
He thinks fast and moves faster, and if Azula's being quite honest with herself, she's noticed and admired that from the beginning. The way his earthbending suffuses his whole body, letting him gracefully integrate himself into a dizzying arc through the air, propelling himself onto the owl's freakishly long neck and staying steady even as it flails. Forty feet up and counting now, she slows her ascent long enough for him to spring into motion and catch her around the waist, the two of them suspended in the air with nothing but her firebending to buoy them.
"Why is it that I always get stuck lugging your deadweight?"
"Shut up and concentrate on getting us out of here!"
It's easier said than done, with Haru knocking them every which way, flinging bits and pieces of the collapsing architecture to deter Wan Shi Tong's dogged pursuit. A hundred feet, and she can see the window—
A furious squawk from the owl as his prey eludes him—
Come on Azula
And then they are sailing out, out to blistering sands and endless sun and freedom and safety, collapsing in an exhausted pile while the tip of the library disappears into the ground, no trace of its existence remaining at all.
She catches her breath, rolls over, and loses it again at Haru grinning back at her, deliriously happy at their escape, more than a little hysterical from adrenaline. She lets herself laugh with him, unrestrained, genuine, and unfamiliar with this kind of pure, silly joy.
It's wonderful, she thinks when she's had a moment to calm down. It's wonderful to be alive with you.
A/N: Thank you for reading! The notes discuss Tin-Hinan, her motives for destroying the oasis, how they relate to the Tuareg people's lifestyle, the plans for Sozin's comet, and an awesome Chinese drama that you should all watch ;) Read them here. archiveofourown dot org /works/7019827/chapters/43516451