A/N: There are a number of songs that I chose as a soundtrack for this chapter, for you to listen at specific places in the text, but FFN is pretty hopeless at adding links, and I would hate for you, my reader, to lose the flow of your reading experience as you try to access the soundtrack. So if you don't want to listen, that's okay. But if you do, then I would suggest reading this chapter on AO3 (and on a computer browser) so that you can open the links in a new tab and listen while reading.
archiveofourown dot org /works/19811947/chapters/60732697
ZUKO
He opens his eyes—Jinwu's eyes, he notes, as the peaks and sharp lines of Wulong Forest stand out even more sharply than before, colors brighter and clearer from an avian perspective. Energy thrums through his body, its white-hot tinge running like molten gold through his veins, but this is nothing like any spirit that has possessed him before. It is not excruciating, but exhilarating, electrifying, and he rises to his feet, noting that he has three of them now, Jinwu's piercing claws giving him his footing.
The sunless sky stretches, bloodshot, over their heads, suffocating and surly. He looks down at the accursed human standing defiant before his glorious manifestation.
"Was it worth it?" he asks, voice resonating with a hundred years' worth of grief and agony, the pain of the world channeled through the sun spirit that saw it all happen. "Was it worth it, laying waste to the four nations and leaving your family tree in ruins? Your nephew, your own father, your wife, your children—did you sacrifice too much?"
Fire Lord Ozai laughs, a terrible, grating shriek, irreverent in the face of the massive, terrifying spirit staring him down. His eyes blaze golden with the reflection of Jinwu's aura, an unearthly hunger perfusing them, mad with selfish ambition and greed. He will not accept anything less than his own throne, set atop the highest place, overseeing the entire earth. But he shall not have it.
"I sacrificed nothing," he sneers, spitting the words out like seeds of venom and spite. "They were not worthy to see the glorious world I will inherit. You are not worthy to see the kingdom that will belong to me."
"The kingdom belongs to the people who live in it," Zuko says bluntly. "Without the people, wherefore the sovereign? Without the sacred islands, wherefore the Fire Lord?"
It is clear: everything his father is, he is not. Most importantly, Ozai's sheer self-confidence and conviction of superiority is the only thing holding him up now. Strip that away, and he has nothing, is nothing.
"Fire Lord Ozai, you and your forefathers have devastated the balance of this world, and now you shall pay the ultimate price."
Jinwu and Zuko approach as one, and to Ozai's credit, he actually tries to put up a fight, his stance overbearing and aggressive, but Jinwu's massive claw shoots out and seizes him at the waist. A beating of ethereal golden wings, swift and furious, and the physical world melts away like the cascade of a waterfall.
They are in a deep gorge, its edges wrapped in rolling fog and mist, the lip of the canyon too high above to even see from its nadir. There is no escape from this place: The Fog of Lost Souls.
"What… where am I? Where have you taken me?"
For the first time, Ozai sounds frightened, lost and unsure of himself. For once, he has a taste of his own medicine.
"Into your own mind." After all, what better company to pass eternity with than the worst memories the world has to offer?
Jinwu encircles Ozai in the cradle of its wings, feathers brushing his head, compacting visions and montages of this chaotic world into his mind. There are memories and scenes there that Zuko does not recognize, but Jinwu, the guardian of the sun, sees all. Nothing is hidden from its view; no one can claim falsehood before its discerning eyes.
Villages burned, smoke rising in erratic tendrils like departed souls. Rivers of blood flowing down battle plains, choking off everything downstream with sanguine, ashen currents flowing to the sea. Not even she, the great ocean, is exempt from the devastation.
Famine running rampant through the lands, pollution consuming a river whole and poisoning the people living along its banks. Refugees crowding into cities already bursting at the seams; pestilence sweeping through the close quarters and claiming the lives of those who thought they had escaped the war. Bandits overrunning the people who have no choice but to remain in their defenseless villages.
Death is everywhere, but death is not all there is. Significant absence cries out louder than any funeral dirge. The Air Temples standing uninhabited. Fire Nation music classes: sound without joy, noise without revelry. Waterbending all but eradicated from the South Pole—who among the kingdoms still knows the meaning of hope? Who still bears aloft a torch of faith and goodwill?
"Many still do," Zuko-become-Jinwu intones, defiant, unwilling to let Fire Lord Ozai corrupt everything. "The White Lotus, Aang, Uncle Iroh… Lu Ten, whom despite your best efforts, you didn't manage to kill. You will not get the chance to take anything else from them.
"This is your legacy, Ozai," their twin voices enjoin. "Embrace it and stay here forever, or understand that you have much cause to feel remorse, and leave this place with the intent of reforming yourself. The choice is yours."
"No…" The reality of his situation begins to sink in like the permeating fog of the valley, pervading his sinuses, coiling in his mind: there is no escape.
"No… you can't trap me here! You won't defy me! I am the Fire Lord! I am the Fire Lord! No one can defy me!"
He will cling to that singular shred of his identity forever, Zuko knows this. It is not a lifeline, but a chain.
As they ascend from the Fog of Lost Souls, leaving Ozai behind, Jinwu looks skyward. The heavens remain cast in gaudy vermilion, like drops of blood diffusing through a bowl of water. The comet hovers high above, its menace still taunting and cruel, representing the doom of thousands of people at the hands of those who wield its power.
I can put it out, Jinwu says. You need not live in fear of its return time and time again.
"You can?" This is news to Zuko. "Why didn't you say so?"
You did not ask.
Of course. Spirits and their caprices. "You've already done so much for me," Zuko says, unsure of where the spirit's motivations lie. "Why would you do this too?"
None of it is for you, Jinwu says scornfully. It is for the world. The comet upsets the world's balance. I see no reason to spare it.
That is true. If Jinwu returns to his post now, allowing the sun to shine again, every firebender under the comet's glow will be able to access untold power once more. The jeweled net resonates with Zuko, inside and out, and he feels the deep grief of those gathered at Ba Sing Se, mourning Lu Ten. The Fire Nation's forces have been quelled, but strife will break out again if their powers are restored.
"As you wish, then." At the end of it all, it is one less thing for Zuko to deal with, and he has not the energy to even feel ashamed for being weary.
Jinwu leaches away from him, their bond no longer necessary, and he stands alone among the rivers and mountains of the spirit world, staring into the sky. The great dragon bird soars up, blotting out the comet with its wings. It circles the celestial body three times as if looking for a place to rest, and at the third revolution, it seems to implode on itself, sparks flying and falling to the ground, leaving the sky whole and unmarred in its absence.
The dragon bird melts into the distance, invisible to the naked eye but not intangible to Zuko's spirit, interconnected as he is to all things. It is time to go back to normal. He feels Jinwu resume the golden chariot, and finally, the sun shines once more.
HANXIN
The battlefield is frozen like a tableau. Iroh kneels there with his head bowed, eyes closed, unable to face the scene of grief before him once more. A hush has descended, a thickness in the air like the calm before a storm, except there can be no storm now. It has already passed, taking one with it. Calamity has struck, and Hanxin cannot remain in denial any longer.
He steels himself and looks down at Lu Ten's body, at where his face used to be, now a smooth, soulless expanse. He remembers that moment, a lifetime ago, when his love lay here on a field watered with blood outside these same city walls. But this time is not like that time.
This time, he will bring Lu Ten back alive.
Two soldiers bring a long red sheet, a flag emblazoned with the Fire Nation emblem, and lay it over the body. Hanxin stands aside, watching as the faceless body disappears from view, lending him the clarity of thought that he needs for what he must do.
He turns to look back at where Koh's gruesome form disappeared, taking with him Lu Ten's essence. An eerie condensation of fog close to the edge of the valley remains suspended in the air, like a portal to the underworld. It is a risky venture, but he has no choice. He has lost his love too many times already—no more. War and walls and oceans and memories have separated them for long enough. A vengeful spirit cannot prevail against their love. He takes a step forward.
He expects his footsteps to be heavy with dread, but instead, he feels lighter and more vital than he has in years. He will have this.
Iroh steps away from his son, shock plain in his face. "No, Hanxin." He places a hand on his shoulder. "You must not go. You'll only meet the same fate."
He stands tall and levels an even, expectant look at Iroh. You will not stop me.
Words unspoken pass between them, and Iroh understands.
"Koh is a fickle monster. Do not trust him; he will seek to trap you there too," Iroh cautions. "Above all, do not show any emotion in front of him, for he will use that energy to steal your face. You must be careful."
Hanxin nods.
HHH
It is as if he has stepped back in time to winter. The air is cold and stiff, biting at him without mercy. As his eyes acclimate to the dimness of whatever this place is, he sees a light twinkling in the distance. Wanting to investigate further, yet still leery of Koh's presence here, he maintains a blank forward stare as he approaches.
The light is an orb suspended in midair, pulsing like a heartbeat, its glow blue and radiant. It is beautiful, and Hanxin can't explain why he feels so drawn to it. He reaches for it, only to be interrupted by a chilling drawl behind him.
"Ah, ah, not so fast, my friend." Koh's threat stays his hand. He has a split second to rearrange his shocked expression into passivity before the massive, terrifying creature coils around to rest before him, staring right into his soul.
Koh. It's the creature that Katara spoke of, a grim steward of darkness that steals people's faces without regard for the lives he leaves torn apart behind him.
"It seems my reputation precedes me," Koh whispers, vilely pleased. His slithering tail rattles around them, claws like knives, aching to clutch and grasp and steal. "So you know of me and what I can do, yet you still chose to come here and challenge me. Such foolish courage…"
His thoughts have no place to hide, his mind bared to the elements of this strange setting. This must be what Iroh warned him about. His emotions become energy, every desire and thought crossing his mind to be shared freely through the atmosphere. He cannot allow his face to be stolen this way. He cannot leave here without retrieving Lu Ten.
"There he is." Koh gestures toward the blue orb with one claw. "Your life's love, is he not? What a beautiful soul, dearly loved by so many. The Avatar's love for him doomed him, though. Think you that yours can save him?"
I must try. He is speechless still, but it does not matter. The spirit world transmits his desires, his motivation.
"Humans," Koh sneers. "So beholden to your relationships with one another. Is it not easier to exist in solitude, with no bonds to drag you down constantly like this? You would never experience grief at the loss of a loved one if you had no loved ones to lose."
That may be how you exist, Koh, but it is not for me.
"I did not choose to be alone, singular and barren. My own mother cruelly banished me from her sight, thinking me rebellious and worthless. What mother would do that to her own child?"
Hanxin tenses, unsure what the spirit is getting at. However, he cannot be distracted from his mission. He steps forward again, not knowing what he intends to do. Seize the orb? Would that even work, intangible as it is? He would gladly take Lu Ten's soul into his own body, carry it safely away from here, but he does not know how to overcome Koh and his menace.
"So eager," Koh croons. "Fine. I'll indulge your attempt to reclaim your loved one. See if you like what I propose."
He pauses, waiting. What devilish game will Koh lay out before him? What damning conditions will he set, no doubt wanting to undermine Hanxin's attempt to save Lu Ten?
"You are a man of music, I hear." Lyrical strains echo through their surroundings, haunting melodies that Hanxin didn't realize he still remembered, and he hates that Koh is able to sift through his thoughts so easily and learn all he needs to know. "I'm something of an aficionado myself—I know what I like when I hear it. The question is: do you know what I like? Whether or not your Lu Ten leaves this place alive depends on it."
So this is Koh's challenge: move a monster to tears with nothing but the power of his music.
Little does this spirit of chaos know: Hanxin's song is not to be underestimated. He has won battles, conquered hearts, raised spirits, calmed souls with just a stirring melody and a few well-chosen words. This challenge is nothing to him… save for the fact that he has no voice, no instruments, no medium through which to physically express the sound of his music. He is defenseless, unarmed, utterly alone without his greatest weapon.
Koh regards him with a calculating eye, sly, grasping tendrils of thought nagging at Hanxin's consciousness. His miasma is so tangible, and Hanxin shudders at the feeling, careful to keep his outward expression neutral.
In the spirit world, your emotions become your reality.
It occurs to him then that this is his answer.
There is a song on his lips, a melody at his fingertips waiting to be sung into motion. The spirit of the music takes him, and that emotional energy is just aching to be changed into something sensible, audible.
Listen.
Enter a strand of plucked strings, resonant in their solitude. Contemplative, transient, like the ripples of a foundling stream just springing into being, its currents striking poignant notes against time-smoothed stones. An elegiac echo, and they give way to Hanxin's voice.
The wind wails a long dirge through hallowed halls
Recalling how the flames of war melted miles of ice
Slander and malice soared over vermilion walls
We took up arms, dreaming of hair white as fleece,
Our brotherhood was rooted in verses brilliant and warm
What had we to fear from the raging storm?
His voice swells through that last verse, the storm building in his throat until it crests in resplendent uproar—
A call to arms against the north, with every ounce of strength
Heroes wish for peaceful ends, choking down their desolate plight
Lay down your arms, cease all bloodshed, though fate remains opaque
Stirring clouds, calming waves, shooting stars set on a still night.
He pours all his grief into his song, lamenting his love. He grieves the years Lu Ten lost to the war, fighting, struggling, hurting, a faithful servant to his people until treason brought him down, an unjust reward for his toils. Now he is once more sunk low by the vagaries of a cruel, unfeeling world, with none but Hanxin to supplicate on his behalf.
The moon shines bright over the forested peaks
Horses stampede and banners billow under winter's horn
Vows made at world's end, hand in hand, we hesitate no more
And drink our fill of heady wine
He can see in his mind's eye the peaks of the northern Earth Kingdom where they spent so many thankless months. He knows Koh sees them too, the spirit realm's amorphousness rendering the boundary between visual, auditory, and physical mediums all but moot. He can feel the chill wind, winter's horn as they marched together, hearts aligned, dreams entwined.
He feels drunk now, the burn of strong wine coursing through his voice, intoxicated by the sound of his music and the knowledge that he must prevail. No creature, human, or spirit, could withstand the depth of emotion that washes over his words.
A call to arms against the north, with every ounce of strength
Heroes wish for peaceful ends, choking down their desolate plight
Lay down your arms, cease all bloodshed, though fate remains opaque
Stirring clouds, calming waves, shooting stars set on a still night.
After everything they've been through, he's not going to give Lu Ten up like this. Amid his impassioned vocals, the stoic beat of a war drum starts up, accenting his phrases, lending them conviction and power. His song builds, surging, swelling, sustained… and finally breaks when he has given of himself all that he can give.
May the flames of war be forgotten by all hereafter
A blessing whispered over the souls of all who loved Lu Ten, who long for his return to the world he helped to sculpt for the better.
Please, he thinks, plain and simple supplication, no longer engorged with the overwhelming aura of his song. Let him return to enjoy the world of peace that he always dreamed of.
.
.
.
The silence stretches over the two of them, a seamless shroud stained dark as the grave. Koh's face is unreadable, bulbous eyes staring like glass, projecting Hanxin's own emotionless visage.
"Such a bond between your two souls," the spirit reflects, voice awed, disbelieving. "Many, like you, have sought to tear their beloved out of my grasp, thinking the power of their love to be strong enough. The Avatar himself, in a previous incarnation, tried and failed. Yet from the moment you let loose your song, your souls resonated, a harmony unparalleled by anything I have seen in either world."
Hanxin struggles to parse his intent without giving away his own expressions. Does this mean he has won Lu Ten's soul back?
At length, Koh sighs, defeated. "Very well. That which you desire… is yours."
His heart leaps, his ears ring with that redeeming pronunciation.
"But…"
No.
"You may not lay eyes upon his face before you leave here."
He stares coolly at the scorpion-monster face, trying to read a shred of deceit therein. Why would Koh prohibit him from seeing Lu Ten's face first unless he means to swindle Hanxin?
"You have no choice but to trust me, as long as his soul is within my grasp." Koh's protuberant eyes droop in a bitter approximation of sadness. "No one has ever trusted me since I was born. No one has ever believed in my capacity for good will, neither human nor spirit. No one has ever given me a chance, not even my own mother. I wanted to help the humans. I wanted to give them useful and ingenious faces that would help them survive in the cold, dark world."
Koh's white visage blurs and fades, morphing into a blue mask with fearsome horns and fangs—the Blue Spirit, a denizen of deep water. "You foolish things, can't even breathe under water or swim deep enough to catch anything worth eating. I could have helped you."
The mask warps into the face of a blue-maned monkey. "Your eyesight and agility are terrible, not to mention your wit for the most part is vastly disappointing. What human wouldn't appreciate wearing the face of the Monkey King? Hm?"
Hanxin looks on, bewildered, as Koh resumes his normal face. "Ingrates, all of you, refusing my wonderful gifts, and what thanks did I get for it? I was cast out by my mother, stripped of my ability to create faces, left to rot in this dying world by myself!"
So you lash out by stealing people's faces and forcing them to accompany you in this hell?
Just like that, Koh deflates, the maelstrom of his fury dissipating with the outlandish faces he's conjured. Hanxin will hold him to his word. Koh is many things, but he is not a liar.
"Turn around and hold out your hand. Just like that, a little to your side." The instructions read like a banal recipe, but the stakes they yield are higher than any, and Hanxin does not like gambling. As loath as he is to turn his back on such a capricious creature, he obeys, facing the direction he came and extending his left hand, a fine tremor lacing his fingers.
There is no sound, not a crackle underfoot nor a soft intake of breath (Hanxin holds his) as one cold hand slips into his. He grasps it tightly like a lifeline, one to drag him from the depths of this nightmare into wakefulness.
"Go, and whatever you do, do not look back at his face until you have both crossed into the light," Koh tells him. "Otherwise, he will be bound here forever."
He does not sound as if this outcome is undesirable. Hanxin, however, has other plans.
Eyes firmly forward, heart in his hand, he steps up, his stride as resolute as the first one rising from Lu Ten's empty shell, rising to a pinnacle of righteous reclamation. Stairs appear before him, light and immaterial, leading to another plane that promises joy and redemption… if only he can make it out of here with Lu Ten.
They have faced all manner of obstacles to their love and overcome them. What is to be feared from one lonely spirit?
He takes another step, and slightly behind him, Lu Ten's seemingly weightless form follows, silent, nearly absent save for the hand clenched in his. Together, they ascend.
The stairs are steep and harsh, their tiers higher than the cost of every sunken soul Koh has ever stolen. Every step he takes seems to drag him back down, but he struggles on. He cannot leave Lu Ten behind.
They are almost there; he can taste the fresh air, feel the haze of the spirit world departing from his pores slowly. One more step and they will reach the sunlight, so close—
—light floods his eyes, blinding—
—his foot slips, he is falling, falling back—
—It is just like the first time he fell, fell in love, and just like that time, at least he will be able to look on his love one last time—
Koh will be glad
—and then one hand is over his eyes, one hand at his waist, steadying him, a long-awaited voice in his ear whispers, "Got you."
Lu Ten.
How? He is saved, after all, relief washing through his blood like ambrosia, but how?
"Koh never said I couldn't stop you from looking at me."
Indeed, he is blind like this, blindly in love, blindly trusting Lu Ten to save them both. He leans back, steady and stable in the arms of the one he loves.
Your hands drench the world in salvation, love.
"I was afraid to say anything earlier, for fear that you would look back at me out of reflex. Promise me you won't look?"
He nods, the motion nudging Lu Ten's hand away from his eyes, tightly shut. Another hand remains loosely slung around his waist, his stance steady now, no longer in danger of toppling to their doom. He can almost sense Koh's malignant thirst behind them, desperately wishing for them to break his rules and be trapped there for eternity. He will not get his wish. Hanxin takes that hand in his once more and faces forward. A step, and another step, and every pace of the way brings him closer to the world of the living.
"I have to let go of you now, dearest," Lu Ten murmurs at his ear. "It's just for a moment, not long at all."
It is anguish, feeling that hand withdraw from his grasp, but he bears it. They are about to step into the light, and all this will be over. They will be able to begin together, anew, without anything or anyone to stop them.
"Go, Hanxin. I'll be waiting for you on the other side."
He goes.
HHH
The world above seems droll and drab compared with the effervescence of Lu Ten's presence just moments ago, as they stood on the brink of the spirit world and Koh's domain. The comet still tinges the sky in bloody dusk though it is only midafternoon at the latest. The forces of the White Lotus remain huddled in grave conference around a solitary red shroud.
Hanxin approaches as if walking through a dream, unsure if he will awake into blissful reality,
sinks to his knees beside Lu Ten's body,
reaches out one hand, fingers tensed to keep from trembling,
pulls back the red shroud slowly, painfully so,
tries not to think about how it resembles unveiling the bride in the marital chamber,
(perhaps another day, one day)
and looks upon the face of his love, eyes closed, whole and utterly beautiful
A collective gasp from those near enough to see, and Hanxin remembers to breathe as Lu Ten opens his eyes, focused, clear, without any trace of the horror he has endured. He looks up at Hanxin leaning over him and smiles.
"Hanxin… I heard you. I heard your voice, singing in the spirit world."
Tears spring to Hanxin's eyes with the uncontainable joy and catharsis of it all. Only now does it dawn on him how close they were to losing everything, and how much he risked to bring Lu Ten back, for himself, for his father, for Zuko, for everyone who loves him too (the entire world? Blasphemy to think otherwise).
Tears fall like raindrops on a newly bloomed face, dazzling as the gala of the fire lilies in summer's verdant youth. Lu Ten pushes himself up on one elbow, brushing the dewdrops from Hanxin's eyelashes with such finesse that he thinks his heart will burst.
"You saved me."
Tender words meant for his ears alone, like midnight caresses and the murmured whisper of the erhu. The sound swells in Hanxin's heart until the music seems to echo from the very heavens. Lu Ten pulls him into a dizzying kiss, unaware or uncaring of the world at their backs, and oh, this is nothing like the last kiss they shared on a battlefield turned into a floodplain of blood.
Lu Ten. Lu Ten… He cannot enunciate the things he wants to say, so he pours them into his lips and his eyes and his fingers digging tight into Lu Ten's back.
They are alive, and all is well.
A/N: This was another flagship chapter that was largely written even before much of heaven need a sinner because I like to jump the gun on story arcs that I really want to write. I began writing the section unofficially known as "Hanxin's resolve" (just before he enters the spirit world) on 16 September 2018. Almost two years ago! At that time, I also wrote the part starting from Koh agreeing to let Lu Ten go, through the end of the chapter. Over the course of the next two years, I filled in all the gaps, and now you've finally seen the finished product! Omg!
I wrote a tiny bit of Jet reacting to Lu Ten's revival at the very end, but I decided not to include it because it was too angsty. You can read it in the notes linked here: archiveofourown dot org /works/7019827/chapters/60732559
Notes also contain much chatter about the song that Hanxin sang to save his love, and other LuXin connections.
The next chapter will be posted in one week! Stay tuned!