It didn't take long for Katara to find him again, even in the swarming, sprightly masses of people. There was a kind of magnetism about Gaspard that was near impossible to ignore or resist. It seemed anyone who crossed his path couldn't help but be attracted to him, one way or another.

There he stood like the sun in front of a banquet table, a collection of beautiful young women in gorgeous gowns orbiting him, the luckier ones within perfect distance to feel his warmth. His eyes were the green of fresh dew glinting off a leaf, the corners creased handsomely in that winning smile, raven waves combed back from his elegantly structured face. His appearance alone was seductive.

Lurking back, Katara started to feel herself shrinking, feeling suddenly insignificant in his little system. She didn't fit in, didn't know the rules of this game. She was a strange, cold little planet that had no business coming near the sun. Why would he notice her when he had no lack of prettier, bustier girls at his beck and call?

She started to step back. Maybe this was a mistake–

As though she'd said the words aloud, Gaspard's turquoise eyes flicked past one of the girls, landing on her. To her pleasant surprise, his face brightened.

"Katara."

In unison, the fangirls went silent, turning to see who had caught their heartthrob's attention, expressions curdling as he held Katara's gaze with visible raptness. Gaspard held out a hand toward her in invitation and she stepped forward, the other women taking a cue and inching back resentfully.

"Apologies, ladies," he smiled, keeping his eyes on her, "but I have a prior engagement."

With a series of gripes and nasty looks, the lot of them dispersed through the crowd. Katara took his outstretched hand and let him lead her to his side before of a long banquet table.

"My lady," he crooned with a charming wink.

"Vicomte," she returned playfully.

"I was afraid our paths were fated never to cross again. I'm very glad to see I was wrong."

His picture-perfect smile warmed her face. Katara ducked her head bashfully and smoothed a hair behind her ear, leaning back and bracing her hands against the table.

"Yeah, sorry. About what happened earlier."

He gave a soft snort.

"Who was that bull's pizzle anyway? Your chaperone?" he said, his scoffing tone making it clear he didn't buy that.

Embarrassed, she started to respond but paused, unsure of the answer.

What was Ozai to her? Not her captor, at least not anymore. It was almost odd now to think that was what he'd been when all this started. He obviously wasn't a friend, that definitely didn't fit. And he wasn't anything more than that either. Ultimately, she decided there wasn't an answer, and it didn't matter anyway.

Shutting it down, remember?

"What was it you wanted to show me before?" she asked, changing the subject.

Gaspard perked up. "A little overlook near the top of the city. It's an incredible view. We still have time to catch the sunset, if you want to go. But before we do that, how about some more wine?"

Without waiting for an answer, he plucked up two ready goblets on the table behind him.

"Frascati okay?" he asked, handing it to her before she could respond. Katara didn't mind. She preferred the white wine anyway.

"And that's the… Beaujolais, right?" she asked, pointing to his drink, knowing she was butchering the intonation. Gaspard chuckled.

"You're a quick learner," he said, winking.

Music filled the air with festive beats. Katara smiled and sipped her drink, gazing around at the loud, lively scene, the unrestrained hedonism. After a moment, Gaspard took her by the hand, leading her toward the doors.

"Come on."

Outside, the evening was pleasantly cool. Crickets chirped softly, lulling the sun towards sleep, a gentle breeze whispering through the lacy treetops lining the streets. The noise of celebration still murmured in the air, following them, as though trying to lure them back.

"It's a complete assault on the senses, isn't it, all that?" he said, gesturing behind him as they walked leisurely up the winding cobbled street.

"It is a lot to take in, at first," Katara admitted. "But I love it."

"You mistake me, so do I. It's glorious, surreal, and what passes as normal in these parts, more or less. But sometimes…" He stopped at a bend in the road, picking a small blue flower from a patch of grass. Gaspard tucked it gently behind her ear, his touch lingering as his eyes swept her face. "…It serves to steal a minute of quiet with good company."

He fixed her with a soft, amorous look and all of a sudden Katara couldn't remember how to breathe, how to think, if she could even remember her name if he asked. Finally, he laced his fingers through hers and led her forward again, his thumb brushing softly over the back of her hand. Katara felt warm all over and drew in a breath.

The streets seemed to wind endlessly upward between charming rows of shops and houses, the gleaming alabaster palace high above looming closer, its pristine white stained in the same pink glow of the sky. Everything up here seemed so quiet in comparison, like a hush had fallen over the world. The only sounds now were the lullaby of insects and the occasional bird.

Katara glanced back over her shoulder. The streets seemed so empty, a surprising contrast to the packed, swarming city she'd met earlier. Behind them, the long pathway ambled and disappeared around a bend.

"It's so quiet up here," she said.

"Most of the city's gathered down at the lower square and the Galleria, partying the night away in one place or another. But the place I'm gonna show you is a well-kept secret, a little gem I discovered a while back."

They'd be alone. The thought made her blush and her stomach pinch slightly. Of course, it had gone without saying they would, but she hadn't given it much thought at the time. His easy mannerism and magnetic charm made his presence feel natural, like she could have known him forever. But, really, she didn't know Gaspard at all. And she hadn't realized just how far from everything he would be taking her, the extent of that aloneness.

Katara followed him through a grove of trees flaunting bright red cone-shaped flowers, slipping between two juniper bushes as he held them apart, and onto a grassy little outcropping. She stopped short, her mouth dropping open in a breath as she took in the scene before her. Nearly the whole city was on view from this point, a canvas of lush green rolling below. The clouds were cotton candy pink, as though blushing at the warm touch of the setting sun, silhouettes of birds and strange, distant creatures flying across the magenta sky.

"This is incredible," she whispered.

"I told you."

Gaspard turned to her with a sure smile. When he didn't look away, Katara cleared her throat and broke his gaze, running a hand up her forearm and looking out at the sun slipping below the white-capped mountains. A hand slid over the small of her back, wrapping around her hip and forcing her attention back. When she turned, her lips nearly collided with his as he leaned in.

"Hey," she said, jerking back slightly. Katara gave a nervous half laugh. "I thought we were gonna watch the sunset."

"We are," he smirked casually. "But I can multitask."

Katara blinked rapidly, that instinctive sense that had been humming since he'd led her through the grove of trees building now into a roar behind and through her ears. She risked a glance at the junipers, trying to act calm while her mind raced for a quick way out.

Gaspard turned her back to him with a thumb on her chin, leaning in swiftly like a raptor diving for prey.

Katara snarled this time. "I said don't."

She went to push him away but it was no more than a nudge, her arms suddenly so heavy, falling limp to her sides. All the strength seemed to rush out of her at once like a deflating balloon. She swayed… staggered… her head reeling…

Gaspard caught her before she hit the ground, the little blue flower tumbling from her hair to the ground. It took her a second to focus, her eyes widening as she looked up at that perfectly relaxed smile, not a care in the world on his face. Her stomach went rock hard as the terrible truth began to bleed through her rosy enchantment.

Her voice was a shaky breath as he leered down at her. "What did you do?"

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Ozai scowled in flagrant disdain at the garish display of debauchery carrying on around him, crossing his arms where he stood against a quieter wall, as far from the heart of it as he could get.

Ozai despised parties. He hadn't been here for more than a few hours and already he detested this place. These people. Their idiotic beliefs, their stupid gleeful faces. The way they pretended not to see him judging them from his little corner, when he knew damn well they did. He stood out like a dark pillar blotting out a beam of sunlight, and that was fine by him. Better that than carrying on like one of these sap-brained buffoons.

Scanning the crowds one final time and seeing no sign of her, Ozai heaved a sigh, throwing open the small satchel. He pulled out the riddle, unrolling the wrinkled paper. If he was going to be stuck here for a while, as it seemed he was cursed to be, it would serve to at least spend his time productively.

He turned his back on the bawdy merrymaking and tried to tone out the noise, leaning with one hand on the wall as he skimmed the translated contents of the scroll, start to finish.

A sentinel without fingers, he points,
without arms, he strikes
without a mouth, he sings…

He had been right about the sentinel being a clock, which had helped them locate Tonro's Curios and the Moonstone…

More enduring than death and older than time,
one mother shall remain even when the stars have burnt out…

The Mother had referred to the Matriarch, a small peak bearing semblance to a woman reaching for the sky, where they'd used the Earthstone and Windstone to open the first portal.

Together, they had managed to decipher the first half of the riddle, which had been a feat in itself, despite journeying through familiar territory. Now, half the puzzle remained unsolved and given their glaring ignorance of this new place, he feared it would take a miracle to crack it.

Where would they even begin looking for the Sunstone, in a strange world they knew nothing about? Perhaps if he could just extract some clue, even the barest hint to start on…

A majestic beast, strong and faithful, ever stands o'er his queen.
On her head a crown, but not of gold.
In her hand many tongues but which cannot taste.
Her pearly labyrinth which thus she protects
did bade the sun to slumber
until kissed by the moon once more.

…A crown, but not of gold…

…In her hand many tongues but which cannot taste. Katara had suggested once that perhaps it meant tongues of fire, and he had considered the same. But that wasn't enough to go on…

Unsolicited, the thought sparked a memory – seating herself too close beside him, her arm nearly brushing his as she leaned closer to read it. Ozai quickly reigned his mind back, squared his jaw. She had a way of doing that, creeping into his thoughts and robbing him of focus, like a thief. He wondered, fleetingly, if perhaps he should go check on her, just to make sure…

The paper crinkled in his grip and he cast off the idea like a soiled cloak. No. To hell with that. She had made her choice, voiced her opinion loud and clear, and he would gladly leave her to it. Steeling his focus, he started reading again.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Katara's breaths were ragged, frightened little sips.

"Shh. Just relax, Katara," Gaspard purred as he held her in his arms, laying her down with repulsive gentleness, the grass cool and damp on her back.

She struggled to recoil as he stroked a hair from her temple and placed a sickeningly soft kiss down on her lips, the edge of her jaw. Frantically, she tried to reach for her element, feeling for the water in the grass, the air. Finding nothing. Feeling for the pulse of his blood and feeling nothing. Her bending gone, along with her strength.

In rising panic, she sifted through the fog of her mind, trying to make sense of what was happening, how he had managed it, when suddenly it dawned on her. "My drink…"

"I'll make you feel good, I promise. Trust me."

"You had no right." Lifting her tired arms, she tried to push him off but he grasped both her wrists in one hand, pinning them over her head with almost no effort.

"Come on, Katara, you're spoiling the mood," he crooned against her neck, his tongue flicking over the dip below her collar bone. She thought she was going to vomit. Gaspard released her wrists to slip one thin sleeve over her shoulder, then another.

"Get off me," she whimpered. She had meant it to be a scream but her body simply couldn't muster the strength.

"You don't mean that."

He smiled, as though it were simply unimaginable that someone might not want him. Or he simply didn't care. His hands travelled to her breasts, thumbs teasing her nipples beneath the thin satin briefly before dragging the neckline of her dress down, exposing her breasts. Katara blanched and felt sick, a sour tang filling her mouth as his tongue circled and flicked her nipples, horrifyingly hard in the cool night air. She tried to cry out for help, her voice as weak as the rest of her, desperately hoping Ozai would magically appear and save her. Knowing in certain dread that he wouldn't. Why would he try to follow her after the way she had blown him off?

Ozai was right. He had been right.

"Please, Gaspard." She was begging now, tears stinging her eyes, knowing it wouldn't make any difference. "Don't."

Her pleas only seemed to entice him further, moving down her body, hiking the satin skirt of her dress up, up, until it bunched around her hips.

"Do you know how many women would love to be in your shoes right now?" he said softly as he kissed his way slowly up the bare skin of her legs. "Maybe I should go get one or two of them now, bring them up here, let them show you how it's done."

"You're disgusting," she hissed. "Get off me."

With one hand, he began unclasping his belt, moving without any haste whatsoever, knowing she was powerless, completely at his mercy, and a choked cry for help guttered in her throat. A frightened drop ran down the side of her temple.

"Fighting will only make it worse, Katara. Just enjoy it. You'll find I know a thing or two about pleasure," he whispered against the crest of her inner thigh, licking once, his breath nauseatingly hot as his other hand tugged at the wraps of her bindings.

In the grip of silent panic, heart racing, body screaming, Katara forced herself to do the only thing she could. She honed her focus, digging deep, desperate to feel any little wisps of chi that might have survived, knowing the hope was futile.

The bindings slackened, and in horror she felt the rush of cool air as he pulled them off completely, tossing them aside, leaving her most intimate parts exposed. Gaspard traced a finger salaciously over her naked vulva, his hot breath fanning over her skin as he breathed deeply of her scent before slinking up her body, smiling as ever. But this wasn't the same smooth-edged, alluring smile he showed the world. This smile was serpent-sharp and had scales. He forced her legs farther apart with his knees.

Katara's throat corded as she tried to scream, a pitiful strangled sound, praying someone would notice, but there was no one around to hear. Her body wracked with sobs and she shook like a leaf as she reached deeper, deeper, frantic. Gasping softly as she found it, the faintest hum of chi, almost indiscernible, sludging through the depths of her captive body.

Something warm and hard nudged her entrance. Katara fought back the vomit, summoning every last reserve of strength she could muster, homing in on it. Siphoning the feeble wisps of chi into her arm, her hand. And with all her might, she squeezed her fist tight and twisted.

Gaspard cried out in pain and buckled, sliding off her to the ground in a heap. Curling in on himself sharply, he rocked and groaned, clutching at his quickly shrinking genitals.

"…bitch," was all he could croak out through his teeth, the pretty boy now curled up like a worm, his face puckered in agony.

Katara wanted to scuttle away, put as much distance between them as she could immediately, but any trace of strength she'd had was spent. Gasping, she was forced to lie there exposed on her back next to him as he groaned and cursed.

"What did you do to me?" His voice was a feral growl but she could hear the note of panic growing. It was almost enough to make her smile. He was right to be panicked.

"It'll be a long time before you're able to use it again, Gaspard," she breathed coldly as she turned her head to him. "If you're able to use it again."

He swore again, glaring at her with black fury. Katara tried to sit up but slumped back down again. She knew she needed to get away before the pain could subside enough for him to retaliate, knowing she might not survive it if he did. But she was just so weak. So tired.

Gaspard dragged in a hissing breath through violently clenched teeth and reached a hand toward her, clawing at the ground. A jolt of fear shot through her. She doubted she could deal that amount of damage a second time, not before whatever drug he'd slipped her wore off. With all her might, Katara forced herself to roll away from him onto her side, as his fingernails scraped across her back. Muscles shaking, screaming in protest, she hauled her heavy body onto hands and knees, then, almost falling back to the ground, she staggered to her feet.

Swallowing back bile, she adjusted her rumpled and dirty dress and bent to pick up her discarded bindings. Just once, she turned to look back. Fiery loathing flashed in his green eyes as they met hers, a promise, a threat. Steeling herself, Katara turned her back to him and slipped through the bushes and the copse of trees, stumbling cautiously back down the hill to that grand building below.

The cheer of voices and music reached her well before she opened the glass doors again. The riotous din of it all engulfed her like a tidal wave as she entered, crushing her skull like a vise, a jig's lively tempo thumping in time with her heart as she lurched through the crowds.

The marble halls gleamed in the light of the chandeliers, the air thick with the scent of wine and food and sweat. She waded through the pompous greatrooms, one after another. At every turn, she felt more foreign, more alone, the brimming sting of tears hotter with every careless jostle. The one person right now who felt safe and familiar in this place was nowhere to be found. The irony of who that person was felt utterly dampened, dulled, reduced to nothing as the indifferent gazes of strangers slid off her like oil on water. Pretending not to notice her disheveled appearance, the distress on her face. Unwilling to pollute their merriments with the drama of an insignificant girl they didn't know and would never see again.

Room after room, she scanned the crowds, the walls, searching for the one face she knew. Where was Ozai? She checked the place where she last left him, finding only a squawking group of drunks and a couple making out against a wall. Katara berated herself now for shoving him off the way she had. Gaspard had been a brilliant actor and Katara had fallen under his spell. But Ozai had seen right through it. She should have listened. What if he had abandoned her? Left her here?

The thought carved a deep, cold pit in her stomach. No. He wouldn't do that, would he? He still needed her…

She felt dirty, fires of shame and anger and fear burning under her skin, brewing into a deep, visceral sob that was threatening to boil over now. She was growing weak again, remnants of that drug still churning through her blood, and Katara found a corner to shrink into, breath hitching as she sank to the floor, the polished blue stone a shock of cold through her satin dress.

Chin trembling, she drew her knees into her chest and hugged her legs. The world blurred shapeless as it all burst forth, her sobs engulfed by the deafening sound of the crowds.

She cried until she felt empty, unsure how long she had been sitting there, curled up in the corner. Ten minutes. Thirty. An hour. No one had approached her. And no one was coming for her.

When enough of her strength had returned, Katara dried her eyes and dragged herself to her feet again. There was still some of the expansive hall she hadn't made it through yet. Maybe he was just nursing a drink somewhere, waiting for her.

She hugged her arms around herself as she walked, looking around. Never had she felt so alone in a place full of people, each of them chatting, laughing, taking one look at her puffy eyes and looking quickly away.

Something snagged her attention at the far edge of the hall. A ray of pitch black amidst the barrage of bright spirits. Her shoulders slumped in relief as she jostled her way through the sweaty bodies.

He was leaning one hand on the wall, his back turned – brooding in a corner, just as she'd suggested. Katara might have laughed if she wasn't so upset.

"What are you doing? I've been looking for you."

The din of festivities drowned out her brittle voice. Katara recognized the creased parchment in his hand. He was reading. Ozai hadn't seemed to hear her so Katara took a step closer and tried to speak louder this time.

"Ozai."

He still didn't turn. Her voice was still a little weak, but she was sure he must have heard her that time. Katara swallowed the lump in her throat. The muscles in his back and shoulders swelled beneath his dark green chaofu with each slow breath. She couldn't see his face but it was obvious that he was unhappy. Was he angry at her?

She picked at her fingernail, the pit in her belly gnawing. Katara had gotten so caught up in the novelty of this place, so anxious for a reprieve, the wine and excitement clouding her judgment, that she had been quick to brush off his warning as thinly-veiled contempt. But now, with the turn of the evening jarring her to her senses, looking back, she couldn't help but wonder if Ozai's opposition hadn't been born of contempt so much, but instead had been almost… protective?

Don't be stupid, came the reproach. Perhaps if he were anyone else, she might be tempted to believe he cared for her, beneath the cold shell of indifference.

But this was Ozai, she reminded herself, despite the ember that flickered in her chest. He cared for nothing and no one but himself and his precious agenda. She had been nearly torn apart during the ritual yet he had expressed no plans to abandon course. If he was protective, it was only because he needed her.

She repeated it again as she minced over to him. Unwilling to be ignored any longer by the one person who felt remotely safe, she inserted herself against the wall beside him. A sideward flick of his eyes was all the acknowledgment he awarded her.

"I've been looking for you everywhere," she said again, hoarse with emotion.

Ozai straightened finally, his parchment hand falling to his side as he turned to her with a snarky tip of his head.

"Have you? Tire of your new boyfriend so soon?"

Bile rose in her throat again, heat creeping over her face with a vengeance and her eyes skated down and away.

Ozai seemed to go tense then and she looked up, taken aback by the deep furrow drawn between his brows. His gaze was flicking over her intently now, as though finally seeing her. Her frazzled appearance, her wrinkled dress, her red puffy eyes. The bindings crumpled in her fist. His eyes widened a measure, something dark and fierce flashing over his face.

"Did he hurt you?"

"…He tried to." Her eyes flitted down briefly. "He snuck something in my drink. It made me weak, I couldn't bend–"

"Where is he?" Ozai growled, his ferocity for her metamorphosing into relief in her chest.

"I left him curled up on the ground, clutching his… man parts. I doubt he'll be using it again for a while."

At that, the man actually smiled, just a small, sharp curling of his lips, but it was contagious, alighting on the corners of her mouth too.

"Good," he said.

Her insides felt afloat. Katara found herself startlingly, immensely grateful now for Ozai's company. But she let the smile slide off her face as she met his gaze in earnest.

"I know you want to say I told you so. But… I still don't want to leave. Not yet. We've been on the run for so long. No one here knows or even cares who we are, and I'm so tired of running. Of hiding. Guards look at us and don't even blink." That one word hummed strangely in the back of her mind. Us. "I just think we deserve to relax for a bit and, maybe, have some fun."

Ozai looked away, sighing long.

"You do know how to have fun, don't you?" she prodded impishly. "Or are you new to this kind of thing?"

At her playful tone, his smoldering eyes returned to hers, just a trace of a shrewd smirk on his lips.

"Fun is subjective, my dear," he said, his silvery voice making her stomach turn a flip. Before she had time to run through all the potentials of what he might mean, Ozai stepped back, the increased space between them leaving her hollow.

"All right," he conceded at length. "We'll stay. But this time, you don't leave my side, and it's just for one day."

"Two."

"One. Tomorrow we leave."

"Tomorrow night."

He frowned and shook his head, opening his mouth to object when a voice boomed across the expanse of the hall.

"Presenting our merciful sovereign, beloved duchess of Arclais, Her Illustrious Grace, Orietta Vienne."

Katara walked toward the commotion to get a better look, Ozai at her heels. A sudden hush descended over the hall as the swarms parted, clearing a path for a beautiful young woman, flanked on either side by armored guards. She had a peachy complexion, butterscotch ringlets tumbling over her shoulders, and an impressive crown of gold atop her head, set with brilliant emerald jewels. More emeralds adorned the earrings dangling from her dainty lobes.

The duchess was dressed in the common style: tight bodice, breasts pushed up, the skirt wide and flowing, but any suggestion to the ordinary ended there. The rich green velvet of her dress was accented with gilded embroidering, the skirt swaying as she strode with poise between the walls of bodies.

People breathed whispers of devotion, bowing in earnest as she passed. There was no question that the monarch was well-loved by her people and the thought made Katara smile.

As she approached, her doe-like eyes caught on Ozai and then Katara. Her expression was unreadable, but Katara knew instantly that she could sense their otherness. The duchess's gaze slid away once, coming to settle on them again as she drew near. And then, to the confusion of the crowd, she stopped.

Katara's chest hitched as the duchess stood imposingly before them and she quickly bowed, following example, sparing a glance up at Ozai as he stood there.

She could see the stubborn stiffening of his lip. The nearly imperceptible discontent in his expression as he met the young sovereign's gaze in a deadlock. For a moment, Katara feared he was going to refuse and cause a scene. But at last, Ozai gave a bow, black hair spilling around his high cheekbones, his square jaw.

With an approving nod, Orietta Vienne strolled on, finally climbing up onto a low dais along a wall, flanked by her two guards.

"Merry Lunamass, one and all," she greeted the masses, receiving a roar of praise. "It is my sincerest pleasure to welcome all of you, near and far, to Maunesse as we come together in remembrance, to celebrate Tula and Taaros and our Blessed Lady of Earth, Yrsine, from whom all life is given. Upholding the traditions of old, I now warmly invite all guests to Notturna Pointe where, as your duchess, it will be my humble pleasure to release the first lantern of Lunamass, as we send up our prayers to the gods. I hope to see each of you there."

With a warm nod of farewell, she stepped off the dais, her guards escorting her out a set of doors.

"A lantern release?" Katara said, turning to Ozai. "That sounds interesting, we should go." At first, he only raised a dark brow and she countered with a little smirk. "What? Don't act like you have something better to do, you already agreed to stay."

"Don't make me regret it," he responded, but the edge of his tone was worn smooth.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Notturna Pointe was a wide, sprawling knoll at the foot of the palace, soaring above the polished city and the picturesque land stretching out beyond. They stood beneath an arched trellis, vines climbing over the latticed sides and top, a few bundles of those little yellow flowers she'd noted in different places hanging down above their heads.

Katara looked around at the sea of people, hundreds of rectangular paper lanterns being passed out by attendants. A cart stopped before Katara and Ozai and a thin, beak-nosed man held one out. She took it, peering at the thin frame, the delicate paper surrounding it. Inside was a small candle and the man lit it before carting on, hundreds of them twinkling now amidst prayers and songs as dusk faded to indigo night.

The lanterns, Katara gathered, were the dreams of those who held them, prayers of thanks to Tula and Taaros, to their Mother of Earth, Yrsine, a petition for life to come forth again next spring.

The duchess took her place upon a platform as the last lantern was finally lit. With a countdown of celebration, Orietta Vienne released her light into the air first and, one by one, the rest of the lanterns began to follow, glowing like hundreds of drifting stars ascending gently into heaven.

Ozai sat down finally and Katara dropped softly at his side, her eyes drawn toward the sky as she watched their lantern rise. The two moons above were an incredible sight, the larger one similar to their own, milky white, the other smaller and pale blue. Their silvery light spilled over the land as the countless floating lanterns bathed the city in a magical, hypnotic glow.

"Beaujolais?"

A server stopped before them, holding out a shining tray. Katara glanced at Ozai. They weren't planning on leaving tonight, so a little more wine wouldn't necessarily hurt. But after the trauma of earlier, she wasn't so sure that was the best beverage of choice to help her move on. She figured Ozai would just wave it off anyway, making that decision easy, but to her surprise he straightened and took two chalices from the tray.

As the server walked away, Ozai held one out to her. "Just wine in there this time."

Katara took the goblet with a quiet sigh, her fingertips brushing his as he turned back.

"I know," she said softly, looking down and twirling the cool iron stem between her fingers. "Because you wouldn't do that."

She glanced up shyly, caught a trace of that brooding expression she knew so well fall into place like a mask. Something dark and deep that made her heart faint, and for a moment she thought he might turn to her. But he didn't. Katara's eyes brushed over his profile, rimmed in soft gold.

Never in a thousand lifetimes would Katara have imagined saying that about this man and really feeling its truth. But then, Ozai had shown her in many ways that he was more than just the sum of his parts. He wasn't immune to suffering and pain. There was a heart he kept buried deep beneath all the anger and acrimony that could break and bleed. He was resilient, strong, even decent when given the chance, and so very human. Maybe even more vividly, tragically human than anyone she had ever known. And if he was, then Ozai wasn't inherently evil. He was like anyone else – full of the potential to do great harm, yes, but also great good. To ignore that would make Katara the monster.

A cool breeze carried the sweet perfume of lush grass and flowers. Katara sighed softly again and looked out from upon the hill, wine in hand next to Ozai, gazing out over the seemingly endless sea of rolling hills and lakes and valleys. The snowcapped peaks in the distance were a wash of silver reaching toward the black velvet sky, stars of a multitude she had never seen winking above, as though beckoning the lanterns higher. The scene defied words, so exquisite in its splendor it hardly seemed real.

"Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?" she whispered, more to herself, overcome with wonder.

Ozai was quiet, but she could sense him look at her finally. When she turned, every ounce of breath was stolen from her lungs, floating away with all the lanterns. He had looked at her in many ways before, but never quite like this.

The feelings coursing through her were so strange, frightening even, stretching throughout her whole body. It was like coming too close to a dangerous fire and feeling inexplicably safe at the same time.

Almost as quickly, he looked away again, leaving her breathless. Katara took a large gulp of her drink.

They were sitting closer than they needed to, their arms almost touching. Smoothing her dress over her knees, she shifted to get comfortable and tucked her legs to one side, leaning her weight on her other hand. The motion inched them closer, the hairs on her arm prickling where they brushed his. Katara's eyes slid closed and she suppressed a warm shiver, half expecting him to move away. But then he didn't.

Was he oblivious, or just pretending not to notice? She could hardly imagine Ozai to ever be oblivious of anything, but then, he was still a man…

In answer, he turned his head to her again, slow but intense, like a spark igniting a forest fire. Her pulse fluttered hard. This time, he held her gaze for just a little too long. Lanternlight winked all around them, above them, setting his fiery eyes ablaze.

Without warning, a memory flickered, pale and faded. Lying next to Zuko, his amber eyes glowing in the dying light of his chambers, hushed whispers in secret. It felt distant now, like the fog of a dream. That was what she'd wanted at the start of all this, wasn't it? To be back in Zuko's arms, rid of the obstacles that had kept them apart.

It was hard to remember that now with Ozai's eyes dragging over her skin.

She watched him turn away at last, taking a sip of his wine, his sculpted throat dipping.

So much for shutting it down, she thought with a trembling breath. Gazing down at her drink again, she watched the lights glimmer off the burgundy ripples, her heart tugging in her chest.

People slowly began trickling out, making their way on to the next festivity. Distantly, Katara registered a passing couple slowing to a stop in the corner of her eye.

"Look, the Celandine!" said a woman brightly.

A man chuckled. "You know what that means."

The jovial voices snatched her from her reverie and Katara turned to see a stocky man of about thirty and a slightly younger woman grinning in their direction. Raising an eyebrow, she glanced around, trying to determine who they were looking at.

Some others drew to a stop on their way out to see what the fuss was about, smirking as the couple and now a few others gestured in their direction. Katara's skin tightened as she realized all at once the attention was directed at them.

"Celandine," the man repeated, pointing at something over her head.

Katara looked up at those the delicate yellow flowers, perplexed. Was there something special about them? They seemed so unremarkable.

"The holy flower," he expounded, stupefied by their obvious ignorance. "It's bad luck not to kiss beneath the Celandine, everyone knows that."

Her stomach did a hard flip-flop. Katara's eyes darted from the flowers to Ozai, his startled electric gaze locking first on her eyes, then, for a fleeting beat, her lips.

Someone giggled. Murmurs began adrift, hollers of Do it, and What are you waiting for?

"If he won't kiss her, I will," someone chuckled.

The air between them suddenly felt too hot, like it might burst into flames. At their palpable hesitance, the stout man snorted, focusing his bemusement on Ozai.

"Yrsine's breath, man, don't be daft. Do you wish to bring misfortune upon yourselves? It's just a little kiss."

Everything seemed to go still, tense, all the insects falling silent, as the small audience held their breath, waiting to see what would happen. Ozai didn't lean in. Of course, she hadn't really expected him to.

But instead, he reached out. His fingers brushed over her skin as he took the hand in her lap, evoking a dizzying rush of warmth that had nothing to do with the wine she'd drunk. Raising it to his lips, he placed a soft, warm kiss on top of her hand, the press of his lips sending feverish tingles soaring up her arm and through her body.

Slowly, Ozai let her hand slide back to her side, their eyes locked and steaming. For a long moment, everything was too quiet.

"That'll do!" the man declared, and a round of cheers erupted.

Katara choked on a laugh, smoothing her hair bashfully, as Ozai frowned and stood up without ceremony. She watched him go, the quiet smile sliding off her face. He didn't pause and didn't turn around. Climbing to her feet, Katara started down the sloping road behind him.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Ozai swore silently, his exasperation growing with every step.

Foolish. Leaps and bounds beyond foolish. He should have simply gotten up and walked away, the way he'd done – too late – just minutes ago, to hell with these people's asinine superstitions.

Agni, what had possessed him to do it? Perhaps it had been the wine, or the entrancing atmosphere getting under his skin, or the intoxicating way she had been looking at him, but in that cursed moment beneath the Celandine, it had felt near impossible to sit there, that close to her, and not kiss her. He had slipped for just the barest moment before regaining his senses. And now he couldn't shake the feel of her hand against his lips, the shiver of her skin, the way their eyes had held hard and fast.

A faint groan turned his head. At least, Ozai thought it was a groan, but he couldn't be sure. It sounded wrong.

He slowed to a stop, Katara halting just a step behind him. Something stirred around the corner of a building, and Ozai squinted into the dark, but it wasn't hard to make out the figure, all too familiar in his pompous douchiness, standing there, leering at them.

"Gaspard." Katara tensed, her face contorting in fright and loathing and shame. Ozai spared her a glance, a white-hot flare of anger taking possession of him.

His forearms flexed as he clenched his fists, smiling mordantly. "I was hoping we might meet again," he growled.

The little bastard didn't even pretend to draw back as he started toward him, didn't even flinch. Gaspard only stared, his mouth agape in a flaccid expression, looking dumber than a bagful of rocks. It suited him.

But before Ozai could reach him, the boy shuddered oddly. Ozai slowed, halted. His eyes started bulging, mouth widening in a perversion of a smile, stretching obscenely until it split his face in half, ear to ear. Within seconds, the rest of him withered and shriveled like a drying-out pod, his entire body wasting to a husk as he crumpled into a grotesque heap on the ground.

Ozai stared in shock as Katara gasped, screamed. Another figure stepped out from where Gaspard had been standing, moonlight glowing silver atop his golden hair like a halo.

"You," Ozai blinked, registering the man.

"Me," Brondolf replied with a glib tilt of his head.

"What did you do to him?" he demanded, eyes darting from the human ruins to the rugged blond man stepping over them, like a puddle.

"That boy owed me a debt. I was simply collecting."

"I asked you what you did to him."

Brondolf only simpered. "Trust me, Ozai. You don't want to know."

"Wait." Katara turned to Ozai, clearly disturbed. "You know each other?"

"We met earlier."

"But I don't believe I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance," he said, eyes gliding once to Katara. "Don't be rude, Ozai. Aren't you going to introduce me to your lady friend?"

Heat flushed through his body. "No," Ozai retorted. With a cursory glance, he waved her on and started down the hill.

"I couldn't help but overhear you're searching for the Sunstone," Brondolf called after them.

Reluctantly, Ozai slowed to a stop. He faltered before finally turning.

"What do you know about it?"

"Oh, plenty. It so happens I'm privy to its precise location, in fact. Largely forgotten by our world over time. I'd be happy to help you obtain it, if you'd like."

"How very charitable of you," he scoffed. "But, let me guess. You want something from us in return."

"But of course. A little tit-for-tat makes the world go round. Or at least makes for some memorable encounters."

"What is it you want?" grumbled Ozai, cutting to the chase.

"It's simple really. All I need is for you to procure a few very specific items from three separate locales. I'll even provide you with a map of their general whereabouts. Easy peasy."

Ozai held the man's infuriatingly glib gaze for a long time, deliberating. "Why do I get the feeling we're not the first people you've asked to do this?" His eyes drifted toward the empty husk that was once Gaspard. Brondolf didn't respond. "Why, if it's so easy, has no one managed it yet? And why not just get them yourself?"

"I would if I could, naturally. I have a bit of a… handicap, you could say, that prevents it."

"What kind of handicap?"

"Now, that's a rude question," he jeered, simpering. Ozai scowled.

"What are these things, specifically?"

"I need seven slaughterslug scales, two sandkraken teeth, and a wedge of bark from an Alderlock tree." He listed them casually, as though he were simply sending a servant to market for the most ordinary items in the world.

Ozai blinked hard. He didn't have the slightest inkling what any of those things were. Though it didn't take much imagining to decide he'd prefer not to find out. Slaughterslug. That wasn't foreboding at all.

"What do you need these things for?"

"A story for another time, I'm afraid," Brondolf said, making a show of checking his pocket watch. His lips curled in a faint, impish smirk. "Do what I ask and I will personally lead you to the Sunstone."

"No." Ozai sliced a hand through the air and took a sharp step toward him. "You take us to the Sunstone before we embark on your scavenger hunt or there's no deal."

"I'm afraid I can't allow that. Can't risk you running off before you fulfill your end of the bargain."

Ozai curdled as silence drew out between them. His eyes slipped again toward the lump of human remains. "So that little scene we happened upon. That's what I can expect if we fail your little quest?"

"I helped that boy and he neglected to pay his end. A mistake I don't plan to repeat. You understand."

Ozai laughed, short and humorless. "I understand, Brondolf. Find someone else to help you."

He turned sharply and started down the road, gesturing once more for Katara, as the man called out behind them.

"And who will help you? Do you suppose you can waltz up to just anyone in the world and ask where you might find the Sunstone? That's a straight shot to the dungeons, my friend, or worse, as anyone who still has knowledge of the Sunstone knows it was meant to remain hidden."

The truth of the words drew Ozai to a slow stop. He released a long sigh through his nose, scowling at the ground as Brondolf walked slowly up behind him.

"I can tell you are a man who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. An attribute I greatly admire. I like you, Ozai, already. And you," he said, drawing up beside Katara. "There's immense power in you, I can feel it. I have a good feeling about you both. And in the spirit of Lunamass, I'm feeling generous tonight. So, I'll make you an offer."

He stopped in front of Ozai with an easy posture that set Ozai's edges bristling. "If you fail, should you manage to return with your lives, I'll leave your souls out of the contract. No tricks, no strings, on my honor." Brondolf placed a hand over his heart and stepped into Ozai, his firm hand coming down on his shoulder, squeezing hard. A warning, the smile melting off his fair stubbled face. "But don't fail. Or I doubt, most ardently, that you will ever lay eyes on your precious Sunstone."

Ozai met his pale blue eyes with seething contempt. He lingered there, the words steeping in the air, and then stepped back, the brightness restored to his face and his tone as though it had never left.

"So? What say you?"

Ozai blinked long, shook his head, but finally snarled. "Fine."

"Then we have a deal!" Brondolf grinned, slapping him on the back, and Ozai balled his fists to keep from striking him.

"Where are these items? Somewhere nearby?"

"One is here in Arclais, yes. You will find another in Myrr, to the north, and the last in Barros, to the south."

"How far north and south?" he grumbled tightly.

"Meet me tomorrow at noon in the Villeroux – that's the grand marketplace teeming with colorful stalls and merchants, you can't miss it. I'll tell you everything then and supply you with all that I can to make this as painless as possible."

Ozai scoffed. "How very noble of you."

"See you at noon then."

Stuffing his hands into his pockets, Brondolf turned on his heel and whistled a bright tune as he strolled away to disappear around a bend.

The two of them continued down the street for a while in strained silence before Katara finally broke it.

"I have a bad feeling about this." She waited for a reply, looking at him pointedly. "You remember what happened the last time I had a bad feeling, don't you?"

The scar on his chest tingled as the memory flashed back. He pressed his lips together.

"Nothing's decided yet."

"But, you just told him–"

"It's called lying to get rid of a troublesome stranger," he snapped. Then, sighing heavily, he grumbled, "It's late. Let's just find a place to stay for the night."