AN: Thank you for reading and thanks extra for reviewing! Also, for those of you who contribute to my Pat reon, thank you even more. My laptop crashed last week and I was able to fix it because of support from you great folks. So here's to the continuation of the story!

.

.

With his arms hanging out the barred window and his jaw resting on the sill, Sokka stared out at the dawn-thick fog and tried to count the days he had been in this cell.

His head hurt all the time now and he had gone beyond hunger as he knew it; yesterday his stomach had felt like he had swallowed a pricklesnake. It twisted and throbbed and pierced, and there had been moments, curled on the floor clutching his belly, when it actually slipped into his mind that that was what had happened. There was a living creature inside him, and it was eating him. It was eating him up.

Today, even though the pricklesnake was apparently not real (or was at least sleeping) he was weaker than ever. It was a lucky thing he had managed to knock one of the boards loose from the window when he was still strong. By the dim glow of breaking day, he could see the glitter on the iron bars - the damp air outside condensed on them just like it had in the trolly.

"Ah, past Sokka," Sokka wheezed with a smile, "you're such a smart guy."

He had already licked the droplets off the bars carefully, just as he had yesterday morning, and just like then, there wasn't enough. Not even close.

His knees gave an unnerving shimmy, but leaning against the wall with his arms stretched as far as they would go through the gap in the window, he did not fall. He hung there instead, feeling the steamy air, stirred occasionally by the strange cool breeze that somehow came in off the sea. As day broke in the world outside the volcano, light hit the highest vapor, casting an ambient glow over everything. Eventually, the sun would rise fully and burn off some of the moisture, but for now the island was consumed by soupy fog.

Actually, it was thicker than usual today. He couldn't even see a shadow of a shape where the trolly landing platform should be. He could hear the giant cable clanking on its spool, though, and the rumble of the steam engine that powered the winch. Nearly drowned out by those louder noises, he could hear the guards' boots hitting boards, and their voices as they murmured anxiously back and forth.

Then the winch stopped. The silence was sudden, impenetrable as the fog. The same boots struggled to make soft footsteps now. A hinge squeaked.

Suddenly, a rush of activity; bodies hitting the deck, the ring of swords, a cry cut off before it could raise the alarm. A single burst of firebending flashed yellow in the fog, and was snuffed out at once. Silence fell once more.

Then, across the distance, an arctic thrush trilled.

Sokka dug his fingernails into the wood. That was his father's signal. He had learned it as a boy when they were hunting in the low tangles of summer brush.

This way, we can always find each other if we get separated. Hakoda had grinned with that tricky gleam in his eye, and even though he was crouched low to fit between the thickets of tough lichen-blossom and under the bramble arches, he still seemed enormous to Sokka. And the fox-partridges will never know we were here. They might be smart for birds, but they're not as smart as us.

They had laughed, and then caught some fox-partridges, and Gran-gran had cooked them in a special sauce. Sokka's stomach gurgled desperately now remembering that sauce, and that good day, and he tightened his grip on the board. This was his chance. His lips cracked and protested as he puckered them, but he forced them into the right shape and, with everything in him, he blew.

No sound came out.

.

.

Admiral Zhao was welcomed to Caldera with the fanfare of a favored son, which Zuko watched from the pinnacle of the palace steps where he stood in the cage of frigid silence at his father's side. The sun was occluded by a film of cloud that sped sickeningly across the sky, trapping the heat and filling the city with the stench of impending rain. Zuko tried to convince himself that the dread he felt was a result of the weather, but as he watched Zhao march the long avenue and up the palace steps - as the familiar smug smile and trimmed sideburns came into sharp focus - he knew the true source of his ill feelings.

The Fire Lord welcomed his admiral with formal words that crackled with satisfaction, and as Zhao rose from his deep bow, he spared Zuko the briefest of sideways glances, the tiniest of smirks.

He knew, when their eyes locked, the exact thought in Zhao's head; the banished prince falls short once again. Pathetic.

They would just see who was pathetic when Katara trounced him like a tigerdillo on a hen-pig. Zuko imagined the look on Zhao's face as she closed in on him, his cowardice and treachery revealed for all the Fire Court to see. With their plan in place, Katara had that situation handled. All Zuko had to do was keep a cool head through the formalities today.

Through the war meeting.

Surreptitiously, he drew a long, calming breath to stop the mad flutter of his pulse. The armor was stuffy, and the warm, muzzy air did nothing to clear the oppressive heat and weight from his chest. He had worked for so long toward this day. This war meeting was his ultimate chance to use the influence for which he had sacrificed so much. It was his chance to prove to his father and the generals that he was no longer the impetuous boy he had been, but instead a man with the experience and knowledge to concoct a strategy worthy of their consideration, a strategy that would change everything.

But there could be no mistakes this time.

Zuko held his proper posture and the same bland expression until Ozai indicated the formal greeting was over. Perfectly synchronized with Azula, Zuko turned to follow the Fire Lord back into the palace. He could feel Zhao's stare itching at the back of his neck, but he did not scratch.

He would be patient. He would be the perfect prince. And by the time Katara went free, the war she returned to fight would never be the same.

.

.

Sokka licked the bars desperately, trying to get enough moisture in his mouth to produce just a little whistle, but it was no use. His tongue was swollen and clumsy and a few droplets did nothing to get it out of the way. Even his voice came out ragged and too feeble to shout. His father was down on the trolly landing platform - he could have seen him if not for the fog - but he was still impossibly out of reach.

Then, another sound came from the direction of the courtyard, and Sokka realized the signal hadn't been meant for him in any case. The fog whirled as a big shadow swept above, then glided down to the boarded-over yard. Sokka could hear the creak and pop of the new structure taking on an enormous weight. Soft thumps of impact as feet hit the deck.

"What the-?"

The disgust in Toph's voice nearly made him laugh - until the alarm blared out of the silence and flames lit up the fog. The planks, damp as they were, didn't erupt into a blaze as they might have, but they caught in a low, sustained burn. From above, Sokka saw it as a hazy ellipsis of light, inside which indistinct shapes bunched closer together.

More guards were calling out now, and boots were striking wood everywhere. Swords clashed not far from the trolly platform, and men cried out and fell horribly silent. Somewhere, the warden was shouting.

"Archers! Take the bison! Aim for the light!"

Bowstrings thrummed. Sokka choked out a strangled denial.

Then the wind kicked up in a whirling fury. It ripped apart fog and arrows alike and knocked a lot of people to a lot of decks, but Sokka didn't hear them fall through the roar of wind. Instead, he saw them. Suddenly, the entire yard was clear to be seen. Guards sprawled in tumbled heaps on the catwalks, men who had to be Water Tribe warriors rushed in to finish off downed enemies, and at the center of a smoldering circle, Toph and Iroh stood at the ready beside the sky bison. Aang stood atop the saddle, holding the bending stance he had just completed and glaring around for more archers.

"Guys!" Sokka croaked, waving his hands where they might be seen. "Up here!"

No one saw him, and even in the silence, no one heard.

Then the noise came roaring back. Bowstrings and wind, firebending blasts, swords and pained cries. Sokka slapped at the boards covering his window, but it was no use. No one noticed him. He watched helplessly as Aang cut down arrows mid-flight with water whips and jets of air, and as a man who had to be Hakoda knocked a guard over the rail to the ground below. But there were so many arrows, and so many guards. There was no way they could keep this up.

Sokka was so preoccupied with watching for stray arrows and counting the men with his dad (just three! What had happened to the others?) that he didn't even notice Toph totter across the yard toward the main prison. Iroh stayed close, guiding her and intercepting arrows and attackers before they could even get close. Then Toph slapped one hand against the stone wall and, a moment later, smirked.

"There you are, Snoozles."

Sokka of course could not hear her from four stories up and, because he had not noticed her movements, he had no warning at all of what was about to happen. In a horrible grind of stone, the window - and a huge chunk of the surrounding wall - fell away, and because his arms were stretched as far out the window as they could go, Sokka was yanked down with it. A high shriek escaped him and he clung to the bars of his cell as the ground hurtled up to meet him.

He must not have been falling as fast as he had thought, because he did not die. Instead, the section of wall landed with a resounding thump on the yard deck, and Sokka lay there, stunned and winded.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Toph said blithely. "Did you want to sleep in? Should we come back later?"

For a moment, Sokka could only stare at the stone and iron before him. Beneath the rubble of the now-crumbling section of wall, he could see the boards that he had clung to before. The weight of rock laying on them now had crushed them to kindling. He could not place the moment when his hands had slipped from those planks to the bars, and that was troubling.

A warm touch settled on his shoulder and he rolled his eyes up to find Iroh bent over him, smiling a bit worriedly back. "Your father will be so happy to see you. Are you ready to leave this place?"

"Yes," Sokka wheezed as he attempted to pry his fingers from around the bars. "Yes, please."

He needed a lot more help to stand than he liked, but at least Toph didn't seem to notice. She was busy punching holes in the deck with giant juts of stone at random, occasionally launching soldiers through the air but always leaving splintered wreckage behind. When she sensed they were clear for a moment, she put her hand back on the wall and smirked. She gave a sharp upward thrust of her other hand, then shruggingly turned away.

"Oops."

Throughout the prison, every hinge set into a steel or stone wall expelled its pin and collapsed. Sliding cell doors popped off their tracks and flopped open. In every cell, prisoners roused by the commotion looked up at their suddenly open doors. In the few hallways still being patrolled, whistles sounded the alarm.

But all of the guards who would have responded were swarming outside on the warden's orders, pinning the intruders in the courtyard while the warden himself watched from a catwalk, shouting commands.

This was not going as smoothly as he had hoped - especially that earthbender slipping through his defenses. Princess Azula had warned that she was dangerous, but the damage did not seem so bad. The prisoner was out and some of the boardwalk was destroyed, but victory was still within reach. The Avatar kept knocking the drugged arrows out of the air, but he was clearly tiring. With the Yu Yan firing on him, one arrow had to slip past him eventually. All it would take was a scratch, and their means of escape would be neutralized. The guards only had to keep the rebels separated until that happened.

And with their ranks swollen by reinforcements from surrounding stations, with soldiers crowding around the pitiful clutch of Water Tribe warriors and the earthbender's senses muddled by the boardwalks, it seemed their objective was very much in sight.

"Shoot that beast, or I'll have all of you in irons instead," the warden bellowed. He did not notice the runner sprinting towards him even when the man stopped, wild-eyed and panting.

"Warden! The prisoners-!"

"Burn the prisoners! We must capture the Avatar!"

The guard stared anxiously between the warden and the door through which he had come. "Sir, the cells are all open - the prisoners are rioting!"

"What?" The warden spun around in time to watch a swarm of rowdy criminals pour out of the prison. A veritable army joined the fray in the yard, and more came roaring out onto the same walkway where he stood. Armed guards stopped them for a moment, but the prisoners were too many, and the guards were swiftly overrun. A few archers fled, but one was so caught up in his shot that a prisoner managed to pitch him over the rail.

But not before the arrow flew free, and soared past the winded Avatar, and buried itself in the bison's paw.

.

.

"My captains are still in the process of tracking down factions of resistance, but the main fight was rapidly concluded - with Princess Azula's invaluable assistance, of course," Zhao added in a tone just shy of boastful. With a long pointer, he knocked over the green figurine that represented a city held by the enemy. It clacked onto its back among smaller red pieces. "Another victory for the Fire Nation."

"A victory late in coming," Ozai said flatly as he looked down upon the tiny progress marked on the sprawling map of their world. "Especially considering your initial assessment."

Zuko felt the tiniest surge of satisfaction, but it was swiftly drowned out by the jangle of nerves he carefully hid. Every general in the room sat in watchful silence, managing to look at once attentive and pensive. Azula's clear voice gave away nothing of her thoughts. "What of the rebel base? Was the sixth wave any more effective than the fifth?"

Zhao stood straighter. The tip of the pointer wavered an inch above the floor. "Unfortunately, no. The rebels hold the advantage as long as they remain hidden like cowards under that mountain, and the new leader of the Northern Water Tribe is evidently less susceptible to threats against his family than his predecessor."

"Perhaps Prince Zuko can offer some insight," Ozai said, turning to assess his son. He lifted one sharp eyebrow. "In your time amongst the rebels, did you encounter this new leader?"

Zuko, sitting perfectly straight and perfectly silent, had the distinct feeling that he had already been found wanting. Still, he addressed the generals smoothly. "His name is Palluk. Cousin to Princess Yue and nephew of Chief Arnook."

"And? Is there any weakness we might exploit to unseat him?"

Zuko thought back to that spring day in the forest when Palluk had taught him some basic tracking skills - after which they had walked a while, and had that extremely awkward conversation about leading, and about loving men in the Water Tribe.

Yes, he realized in a rush, Palluk had foolishly confided exactly such a weakness to him that day. If the Water Tribe learned that their leader preferred the company of men, how many would shirk his orders or outright refuse to follow him? How quickly would the last of the resistance fall apart?

It was exactly the edge Ozai wanted, and Zuko could give it to him. For a moment he hovered on the brink. He weighed it in his mind like an unfamiliar weapon.

"No," Zuko said at last. "Palluk is young, but he's a capable leader and a decent strategist. His royal connections afforded him a good education, and his uncle raised him with the chieftaincy in mind. The manipulations that worked on Han won't be effective with Palluk."

It was a good answer, a strong and well-considered answer. But the lie turned it all sour in his mouth. He looked up to meet his father's eye. Ozai watched him with the leaden weight of suspicion.

"How unfortunate."

His heart pounded in his throat, but Zuko was not only afraid. He felt as if his feet had brushed the solid rock floor at the bottom of a deep pool of dark water through which he had been sinking for a long time. He felt a vague sense of the shape of some space within himself - a space he had been unsure of up until this moment.

He did not look away from Ozai's steady stare, and he did not allow himself to shift until the discussion moved on to Omashu, retaken once more.

"Although," General Hai said with a faint note of helplessness in his voice, "in all the chaos, a great many of the resistance fighters and Mad King Bumi himself completely disappeared."

Grumbles rose up from around the map. The Mad King of Omashu was probably among the many factions of guerrilla fighters plaguing the countryside. A hard life for such an old man, the generals agreed, but perhaps not so hard for a king among farmers who had lived under his rule. At length, talk turned to the only large holding of green markers remaining on the map.

"As soon as it is completed, the fleet will make for Ba Sing Se," General Qi said, holding back his long white beard as he indicated a straight trajectory with his knife-sharp fingers. "We could use the war balloons to transport troops into the inner ring of the city, but at their current ascending speeds, the vessels are too clumsy to pull out quickly. Instead, I propose that we keep our airships above the range of arrows or catapult fodder and drop pots of burning pitch and blasting jelly on the city."

The generals all nodded, their bushy eyebrows raised or lowered in thought. Some murmured agreement or questions regarding logistics. No one raised concerns about the civilians who would inevitably be killed in these explosions. They were only Earth Kingdom subjects, after all, and the generals of the Fire Nation were content to sacrifice even their own troops if that sacrifice led to victory.

A cold bead of sweat inched down Zuko's spine. The sweet buns he had eaten at breakfast rolled and tossed in his stomach like curds in sour milk.

"Without a means of defending itself," Zhao said with some satisfaction, "Ba Sing Se will be forced to yield, or burn to rubble."

"That's all very well," General Shino said from across the table, "but Ba Sing Se is vast. Even with the armies already laying the siege, how can we hope to keep the population under control?"

"Exactly as we keep the Northern Water Tribe under control. All signs indicate that King Kui is an even weaker ruler than Chief Arnook. He will submit easily to Fire Nation occupation."

"And if that does not work," a middle-aged general with a tightly-clipped beard said, "we have had good results in the western Earth Kingdom by simply imprisoning the benders."

"We cannot imprison every earthbender in Ba Sing Se," a younger general said. "Even using every prison rig and barge at our disposal, so many could not be accommodated. It is simply not feasible."

"Then perhaps just the children."

Zuko's jaw was shut so tight that his head was starting to pound. For the past five years, he had never questioned that speaking out against the misuse of soldiers had been an act of disrespect. He had even come to believe, after a while, that it really was naive to choose not to press any advantage in war. When he'd spoken out in the last war meeting, he had been young, and weak, and he had not understood the ruthless nuances of warfare.

Now he watched the generals calmly discuss how best to crush the spirits of an entire city. How to document and inventory the children as they took them to expedite punishment against resistant parents.

Zuko watched this, sitting stiffly in place while, behind his bland mask, he repeatedly swallowed back the urge to be sick. He had studied warfare. Frequently when Iroh had called an end to training for the day, Zuko had demanded lessons in battle strategy. He had laid out maps and marked them just the way this map was marked now, and had absorbed historical tactics with determined interest.

It was not naivety that made him feel this way, now. It was not a failure to understand the superior efficiency of ruthlessness, or the cost and consequence of mercy. If anything, he understood too much.

At a flicker of motion to his left, he tore his eyes away from the war table. Just a few feet away, Ozai sat watching him. His look was grim and patient, his eyes only slightly narrowed, but he was watching Zuko closely.

He was waiting to see if Zuko would speak out.

"I have a suggestion," Azula said abruptly, "if I may?"

Ozai turned to permit her and Zuko found himself suddenly able to breathe again.

"The projected date of completion for the fleet is still some time away, and factoring in travel leaves perhaps one month between the earliest date of this assault and the rise of Sozin's Comet. Correct?"

One of the younger generals checked some figures on a writing tablet and agreed that it was.

"Then why not simply give the people of Ba Sing Se an ultimatum. Either they surrender every earthbender into custody before the comet, or our armies will sweep the streets with fire and burn every noncompliant district to the ground."

Zuko wanted to believe she was joking, but he could hear in her voice the ring of imminent triumph. Nevermind all those innocent lives - to Azula, they might as well be simple wooden figures positioned on a map.

"And what do you think, Prince Zuko?"

Zuko blinked away the flames in his eyes and met the Fire Lord's measuring stare.

"You spent some time on the ground in the Earth Kingdom. What is your opinion?"

A terrible silence filled the war room as Zuko stared back at his father and realized that he was either being baited, or offered an opportunity. A deadfall lay before him and Ozai had just asked him to step forward into the pit of spikes.

But Zuko had fought hard to return to this treacherous place and reclaim this destiny. If his father thought he was going to forfeit now out of fear, then Zuko would prove him wrong, too.

"Taking the earthbenders captive won't subdue Ba Sing Se," he said, shifting his focus back to the map. "There's no way to catch all of them, and nowhere to keep them in any case. Even if you did manage to arrest them all, the nonbenders that remained would be even more determined to resist."

He thought of Jet and Suki, both presumably somewhere in the forests around Gao Ling, harrying Zhao's army. Little green cubes speckled the map like cupfuls of scattered dice, clustered especially around the assemblages of red flames.

"The fighting is ongoing everywhere. Wherever armies are defeated, guerrilla forces crop up in the dozens. Breaking up families in the city will only make that worse, because it will give the people who aren't imprisoned even more reason to scatter and fight."

The generals all peered thoughtfully at the map, tugging their beards and tapping their uncallused fingers. Zuko drew in a slow breath, readying himself for the next step. He had to say it exactly right, or it would be taken for weakness.

"King Kui has fully withdrawn his armies beyond the outer wall and closed off contact with the rest of the Earth Kingdom. Effectively, he has ceded his holdings outside Ba Sing Se to the Fire Nation," he said carefully, "and Ba Sing Se has become his prison."

One of the oldest generals, a man who had stared this entire time at the map with rheumy, tired eyes, ran his fingertips against his thin lips. Zuko went on hurriedly.

"Even with the war balloons, it would take countless troops and resources to conquer and hold that city." He swallowed and forced himself to say the words he had planned. "The Fire Nation has the power to accomplish it. But the cost will be great, and our people will continue paying it for many years to come."

He didn't pause, but he saw how the generals' frowns deepened, how their eyes flicked up to meet his - and his father's - before returning to the map.

"We can instead leave King Kui to the last inch of his kingdom, the only inch he has ever shown signs of caring about, and focus our energies on convincing the people outside to accept Fire Nation rule."

He could feel Ozai's eyes on the side of his head now, burning against the scarred side of his face. He sat straighter, held his chin higher. He had come this far, and he would finish it.

"The common people have been abandoned by their king. Now is the time to offer them peace and show them the benefits of switching allegiance. The colonies are the one conquest not plagued with guerrilla fighters, and it is because they have been well-governed. Why not use the same tactics to bring the rest of the Earth Kingdom under control?"

A tense silence fell. He had planted the seeds of an alternative to massacre. Then Zhao turned his head to peer up at him, the hard set of his mouth just shy of disparaging.

"With all due respect, Prince Zuko, those tactics have already been employed in every defeated city and village. The colonies are stable because they were established over a century ago and the fighting died out over time."

"Actually," Zuko said with some heat, "the old records indicate that different approaches were attempted in subduing the colonies. The fastest method by far was a relief-based program in which-"

"No one here cares for a recitation of your lessons, Zuko," Ozai said, his low voice crushing the proposal like a sprout under his heel.

Zuko, remembering himself, leveled his chin and stared straight ahead over the topknots of the generals as his father went on. He felt their eyes upon him, he could almost sense Zhao vibrating with glee.

"Sozin's Comet will shine on us in a few months' time, and you would have us distribute food and medicine to our enemies." Ozai's tone was unsurprised, darkly amused. His silence was a blade hanging over Zuko's neck.

He felt heat flush his unscarred cheek. He burned to defend himself, cite his sources, argue the value of the lives of those thousands of people his father waved off simply as enemies. But Zuko knew now what it would mean to defend himself. He had been asked for his opinion, and he had been summarily silenced. He held that silence.

To say any more now risked disrespect.

"Gentlemen," Ozai finally said, "my son, the humanitarian."

A nervous chuckle resounded among them because, while the words sounded like a joke, they were spoken with withering disdain. To his credit, Zuko did not flinch.

"The Earth Kingdom has had its chance to come willingly under Fire Nation rule," Ozai went on, turning back to the map. "With the comet at hand, a more permanent solution is becoming possible."

Zuko watched, fighting to conceal the alarm that jangled through him like broken bells, as the Fire Lord rose and paced slowly down to the map. His fine shoes rapped against the polished stone, and the sound cut brutally over the huff and rush of the torches.

"My father spent his entire life failing to subdue the other nations. He failed in his assault against the Northern Water Tribe and took only lackluster measures against its sister in the south. Because he chose not to simply eradicate the Southerners, they were able to raise a naval force that continues to trouble our armada."

He stuck out his hand wordlessly and Zhao passed the pointing rod to him with hardly a pause. Ozai tapped it on the floor like a cane and unhurriedly stepped around the tiny blue cubes scattered in the South Sea. He stalked along the western and northern coast, his robe heedlessly brushing red and green pieces alike into disarray.

"I will not repeat his error. As long as the people of the Earth Kingdom have something to fight for, they will resist Fire Nation sovereignty. So," he said, stopping outside the outer ring of Ba Sing Se, "we will leave them with nothing at all."

Zuko watched his father knock the green Earth Kingdom insignia over with an effortless swing of the pointer. It clattered as it fell face-down in the inner circle.

"As General Qi suggested, the war balloons will rain destruction on Ba Sing Se until the city submits. Any citizen who resists the following occupation will be executed. And, since we would not want to divide families-" His sly eyes seemed to punch right through Zuko's ornamental armor. "-their relatives two removed will be executed as well."

The torches popped and shimmied, and Zuko's stomach churned with acidic sludge. He could taste it faintly in his mouth, sweet like red bean paste.

"By the time Sozin's Comet returns, there will be no resistance left in Ba Sing Se, and our armies can focus on the final phase." Ozai stepped coolly beyond the outer walls, past the red flame markers of armies at siege and into the disputed countryside. "These guerrilla fighters hide in trees and eat food provided by two-faced farmers. Villagers hide them like rats in their cellars. It is time they all learned how the Fire Nation deals with enemies who skulk in the shadows, and the enemies who harbor them.

"With the power of the comet behind our armies, we will burn it all. Every field and forest, every village, every barn and farmhouse - we will burn it all to the ground."

Silence reigned in the war room, even the crackle of torches seeming far away. Zuko glanced over the faces of the generals, all turned up to gaze at the Fire Lord like supplicants. Zhao smiled with faint viciousness, as if he had dreamed of this day and was not entirely convinced yet that it had come.

Ozai allowed his gaze to roll slowly back to Zuko. "Those that live to fight us in the ashes will first have to survive a long and hungry winter."

Zuko did not speak, did not move. He hoped his emotionless mask was holding, but it was difficult to tell when his skin felt so numb. At length, Azula broke the silence.

"Such a sweeping victory would surpass even Fire Lord Sozin's."

"Yes," Zhao agreed smoothly, peering down at the map with an excited light in his eyes. "A truly great accomplishment. One that history will never forget."

"It is a great deal of ground to cover, Your Majesty," one of the old generals said in a creaking voice. "We will need to scatter our forces to accomplish it."

"We must plan and control the burn to avoid destroying army food stores."

"Fire Lord, what of the colonies?"

Ozai did not look at any of them. He only watched Zuko. "As long as they continue to pay homage to the Fire Nation, the colonies will be spared. The armies stationed around the Earth Kingdom will handle much of the farther-flung territories, but the bulk of the coverage will be managed from aboard war balloons. I intend to lead them…"

A smile creased his face. In it, a predator had scented weak prey on the night air, and soon blood would follow. Caught under that look, Zuko was not sure whether the frantic pounding of his heart was a surge of love for his father or a driving need to run. Ozai, after a beat, finished.

"…with my loyal son at my side."

.

.

At Appa's cry, Aang spun around. Iroh and Toph were helping an enfeebled Sokka into the saddle, and beyond them, the Water Tribe warriors had been backed onto the walkway to the trolly platform by a swell of battling soldiers and prisoners, but Aang did not see any of that. All he saw was the red-fletched arrow sticking out of Appa's foot, and all he heard was that particular bellow, that suddenly weary thread in his dear friend's voice.

They had to get Appa out of here. Now.

"Yip yip!" He shook the reins and Appa surged into the sky, already a bit sluggish.

"No," Sokka wheezed behind him. "Dad! We have to help my dad!"

Aang heard, and a knife of guilt cut through him, but he could not listen. They soared out over the boiling lake, pressing through the steam toward the hazy shadow of the crater wall. Beneath him, Aang felt Appa heave and struggle. He looked ahead at the steep wall of rock and knew they were not climbing fast enough to clear it. In fact, they were not climbing at all.

"Is it just me," Toph was quietly saying behind him, "or is Stinky feeling a little sinky?"

Aang leapt to his feet and began stepping carefully around and thrusting his arms upward, dragging up huge gusts of damp air to push Appa higher. Even with the added support, though, the bison lagged more every second. His huge, soft eyes repeatedly drooped nearly shut, then opened wide as he fought to hold on to consciousness.

"Come on, boy!" Aang cried breathlessly. "Just a little farther!"

Appa gave a strained groan, and his tail swung downward one final time. Then they hovered, just for a moment, at the peak of an invisible hill while Aang struggled to support them on a sustained wind.

But after weeks of gruel and captivity and uneasy sleep, he was so very tired.

They began to fall slowly, not all at once, in the same way that a person blowing out one long breath will eventually come to the last dregs of air in their lungs. As Aang's limbs quivered and finally gave, they dropped. He clung to Appa's shaggy head. Someone in the back screamed. The steamy lake waited below, dark and hungry beneath the curling teeth of vapor.

If they hit that water, they would all be boiled alive.

Aang did not think. He only let himself slip away from Appa and shifted his arms and legs, moved his weightless body to reach the elements. The vapor pressed together suddenly into grasping sheets of water, none strong enough to catch Appa and hold him, but strong enough to slow his decent a tiny bit at a time. He smashed through the first two sheets, but the next few stretched before they broke.

Appa still struck the thick ice floe Aang created on the lake so hard that boiling water flushed up over the top of the ice, melting pits into it. With a resounding crack, a spider's web of fault lines spread out from where Appa had hit. Hurriedly, desperately, Aang scrambled down from Appa's head and, after slip-sliding alarmingly close to the edge, began a waterbending form to haul the rapidly-diminishing ice toward the cliff.

"Okay Toph," he gasped. "Time to help!"

She slipped down to the ice and slopped through the slushy top layer with her bare feet. "Point me in the direction of a rock, Twinkle Toes. Preferably within jumping reach."

Beneath them, the splits in the ice were widening. Water gurgled up through them, and more cracks shot out through the block. Aang felt himself sinking deeper into the slush. With a final push of energy, he thumped the ice floe into the rock wall.

Toph's head turned a fraction and she leapt, snagging a handful of rock and hauling herself up from the steaming water. With a few snaps of her hands, she threw a ledge out under herself and, a second later, a much larger one under Appa and the ice floe.

"Top floor, here we go!"

They shot upward so fast that Aang slipped again and fell in the slushy ice with a breathless oof. When he managed to extricate himself - and thaw the ice and send it off back down to the lake, they were already more than halfway up.

"We've gotta go back."

Aang looked up to the saddle to find Sokka peering desperately over at him, his haggard face straining with worry. He looked about as bad as Aang felt - which was terrible. It was still so hard to do all of this bending after he had lost so much muscle and speed in captivity. They hardly had enough to eat while they traveled, and the first real food Aang had eaten had made him terribly sick. Now, his much-diminished stamina had been drained to nothing. He knees wobbled just holding him upright.

There was no possible way he could go back.

"Don't worry about it, Snoozles," Toph said from the platform as she shot them upward with one hard stance after another. "They made it to the trolly."

Aang spun around to see and sank to his rear on the stone in a combination of shock, exhaustion, and relief. Indeed, the trolly was slowly climbing its cable through the steam toward the crater station. Sokka made a triumphant sound. Aang nearly did, too, but then his eye followed the cable back down to its origin.

There was some commotion at the prison platform, some men struggling with the giant winch. A moment later, the trolly shuddered to a stop. Then, swinging and jouncing alarmingly, it reversed direction. The guards were bringing it back down to the prison.

"Hang on, hang on," Toph said over Sokka's cry of dismay. Abruptly, the ledge ground to a halt and Toph pressed one of her stubby hands against the cliff face. Then she reached out with the other, unerringly toward the winch.

A second later, the trolly started climbing again. Toph brushed her palms together, smirking, and then went back to work hauling the ledge up the cliff at a slightly more sedate pace.

"Little whirly parts - just like in my music box."

Sokka, slumped in the back of the saddle, did not hear what she said. He was too busy watching the trolly rise. If he didn't take his eyes off it, maybe it would make it all the way this time. Something brushed his arm, but he did not look away. He could not.

"Want some water?"

Sokka's head started turning without his eyes. Iroh had come to sit beside him and was holding out an open canteen. His smile was kind, and reminded Sokka of a lot of great tea he had had in some forgotten time.

"There isn't much left," he said apologetically, "but from the look of you, I'd say you will-"

Sokka grabbed the canteen and guzzled down the four mouthfuls inside. His stomach immediately lurched in protest.

"-probably need to pace yourself," Iroh finished. He watched dryly as Sokka clutched his aching belly, then glanced past him. "Oh, and look at that! Your father and his men have made it to the station already!"

Sokka turned to watch for himself as the distant shapes of men piled out of the trolly and onto the upper platform. The fog was reforming, and it was hard to see them. It was even harder to see the prison now, though the sounds of fighting still carried across the water.

The ledge ground to a stop at the top of the crater and the sudden lull, the stillness and finality of it all, made Sokka a little dizzy.

"Well that's a relief," he said, and then passed out.