Azula crouched behind a boulder on the sandy beach of the bay.
The sky was clear and dotted with stars, and the crescent moon glowed bright as it rose above the ocean's horizon. The air was still. No birds called and the only sound she heard was the gentle rush of the waves as they washed against the shore.
Far ahead, along the beach, the enemy castle loomed.
Azula pulled the telescope out from her belt and pointed it at the enemy stronghold. She closed one eye and placed her other against the telescope's eyepiece.
The castle's windows were dark and no torches or lanterns burned.
I counted 22 people, including four guards. Could they have a night watch? They do have two guard dogs…
She paid close attention to the castle's defensive walls but observed no signs of movement. Though she had no view of the courtyard from this low vantage, if her plan proceeded as expected, she would not have to expose herself to the dogs…
The animal dogs, that is.
Satisfied with her surveillance, she lowered the telescope and shrugged the cloak off her shoulders. Wrapping the shiny brass telescope in the dull cloak, she placed the bundle on the sand next to the boulder for safe hiding. Next, she removed the warrior mask from her belt and held it against her face using her left wrist.
The mask had two leather buckles, one for above the ears, the other for around the back of the neck. She played with the buckles for a while, having only her right hand to use, until the mask was secured to her face snugly. It was actually a comfortable fit all things considered.
The warrior's mask covered her chin, nose and cheeks while her eyes and forehead were left exposed. Her mouth was exposed too but it was guarded by a series of white, curved fangs—actual fangs from an animal—while the lips were curled in an exaggerated snarl.
The mask itself was constructed of thick, lacquered leather for both rigidity and strength. On the mask's exterior, a thin layer of hammered steel, painted a dark shade of crimson, was riveted to the leather for added protection, while a soft fabric lining was sewn to the interior for comfort. The mask was a bit heavy for her thin neck, but overall, it gave her the appearance of a red oni demon.
I wish I could see myself right now, she mused. I must look absolutely ferocious.
She had never worn a face mask, only ever soldiers' helmets. The helmets were always too big and immensely heavy, intended for men much larger and stronger than herself, especially in her present weak, unconditioned state. This mask, on the other hand, fitted her nicely but she didn't wear it for its appearance or protection; she wore it to shield her identity.
Not like it matters. I don't intend to leave anybody alive, but just to play it safe, it's better I hide my face.
The mask secured, she focused her attention back to the castle and, in particular, its high, sloping seawall. Her brow knitted in concentration.
You're dealing with a clan; a local ruling family; a group of criminals that is a scourge upon the Fire Nation. Destroy their leader and soldiers as would have the Fire Lords of old. Destroy his family and servants and there will be no one to avenge him. Destroy them and you won't have to debase yourself. Destroy them… And liberate this part of the Fire Nation from their scourge…
Butterflies started to flutter in her stomach; the good kind, the exciting kind. She remained crouched behind the boulder, staring at the castle. Her palms began to sweat. She gripped the course stone. She didn't move.
"DON'T YOU DARE GO AFTER THEM!" Mr. Chen had shouted at her.
"Promise me you'll put an end to this fighting!" Doctor Izumi demanded from her. "Or I can't keep taking care of you out of concern for the safety of this hospital."
A hard knot twisted in her gut.
"The police will come after you! Have you thought about what will happen to you?! To us?!"
"Don't for a second think about attacking the authorities!"
Azula breathed a frustrated sigh as she tried to ignore the troublesome thoughts.
They're meek, obedient citizens. The right kind. The kind I want to be around. They're right to discourage me as if I were any other commoner but I'm not. I'm royalty. I'm the princess of this land. I know what must be done and how to do it. They'll never know the power I wield and the divine authority that courses through my veins. They'll never share the responsibilities I have. Crown on my head or not, I have the right to wipe these vermin from the face of the Earth, and that's something Zuko will never be able to take from me…
The butterflies landed and her trepidations faded. Though it was night, resolve and adventure shimmered in her eyes as bright and clear as the morning sun. At last, she rose from her crouch and gazed at the faraway castle. She pursed her lips to contain an adventurous smirk and hardened her face to stone.
"Criminals of the Mori Clan," she whispered to the faraway enemy, her tone dark and commanding. "You have violated the peace and order of the Fire Nation. You have stolen from and murdered your fellow citizens. You have defied the authority of the Hizen Domain, and by default, the Crown's. By my divine authority, I command you to die, and by my hand, you will die..."
She stepped forward.
She arrived at the base of the seawall and looked up; the castle's wall curved upward at modest slope but steepened rapidly until going vertical the remaining way. From the sand beneath her feet to the castle's first floor, the wall was thirty feet tall with the added-on deck just as high.
She touched her hand to the wall. The stones were course and pitted while the mortar between them was cracked and crumbly. Hundreds of years of ocean waves had taken their toll.
As expected.
She gripped a sliver of rock with her right hand and dug the sharp steel toe of her boot into a seam. She started climbing.
High above the sandy beach, some twenty feet up the wall, the slope became vertical and the stones and mortar smooth. The ocean had not reached this high.
Dammit!
She held steady on the wall. Her fingers strained and her palms sweaty while her forearms burned and her shoulders ached with fatigue. Her legs held firm but she had no other means upward. She had not planned this as carefully as she had thought.
Turning her head slowly to assess her options, she paid close attention to the nearby wooden deck and its structure. The vertical pillars supporting the deck rested on heavy, horizontal beams protruding outward from the wall, built into the stone. The vertical beams were themselves braced by diagonal planks nailed into their sides, connecting them. The first horizontal beam lay within arm's reach to her left. If she managed to stand on it, she might be able climb up the remaining structure, but it was to her left; the side of her crippled hand…
"Ugh." She had climbed the wrong side.
She shimmied across the wall.
The horizontal beam was at eye level. She reached for it with her left arm and managed to wrap that arm around the beam, her right hand still holding on to the wall. Next, she let go of the wall with her right hand and—
Her left foot slipped.
"Gasp!"
She flung her right arm around the beam just as her right foot slipped off the wall too. Her muscles tightened and she hung onto the beam by her arm pits as her legs swung beneath her, twenty feet above the ground. Her heart hammered in her ears. If I use my fire to propel myself, I give myself away! The sound would be like a rocket! TOO LOUD!
Once her legs stopped swinging and she felt secure in her hold against the beam, she pressed against the wall with both legs to support her weight. Next, she hugged one of the vertical pillars with her left arm, tightened her grip on the horizontal beam with her right hand, and swung her right leg up onto the beam. Feeling secure again, she rotated her body until both knees rested on the beam. She rose to stand.
Her balance was shaky. The beam was round and her feet teetered on its curved surface but she held onto the nearest vertical pillar. She felt safe from falling. Her legs felt a bit wobbly from exhaustion but once her leg muscles regained their strength she craned her neck back to assess the route upward.
The top of the deck was another ten feet above her and there were no intermediate horizontal beams to stand on, just vertical pillars and steep, diagonal planks. There would be no way she could climb either of them, even with her pointed boots; her untrained, atrophied legs simply weren't strong enough to drive her pointed toes into the timber. What she did have, however, was wood, fire and the knowledge of how to make do.
She crouched low and placed two pointed fingers against the pillar. Heat and yellow fire formed at her fingertips. Keeping her fingers in contact with the wood, the fire began to eat its way through the dry, flammable material, first turning the wood into glowing embers, then to smoke until finally to ash. She drew her fingers across the wood slowly, maintaining the flame as if she were pyro-etching.
After a couple of minutes, she retracted her hand, leaving behind a four inch wide, two inch deep trench in the wooden pillar. She stood and repeated the process a few feet higher and to the side, then higher and to the other side, and again, and again until five equal-sized footholds were burned into the wood, spaced apart like a ladder. She grabbed onto one, stuck the toe of her boot in another and started climbing.
Before long, her legs began to feel heavy and her clothes were becoming saturated with sweat. Fatigue was setting in. No matter, she told herself. With my plan, I won't have to fight anybody. I'll be quiet and slow. I won't have to exert myself…
After carving three more footholds, her head was at last level with the boards of the deck; however, a narrowly spaced railing prevented her from merely slipping her way through. She burned another foothold, climbed one more step higher and wrapped both arms around the top of the rail. She strained the muscles in her back, arms and core to pull herself up…
… And didn't budge.
"Dammit!" She hissed beneath her breath. "Curse these weak arms!"
She had gone over a year and a half without being part of anything close to a training routine, so her upper body had reverted back to its weak, untrained, teenage girlish form. She couldn't even perform a simple pull-up anymore.
Instead of using brute strength, she flung her right leg up onto the rail, her atrophied muscles struggling with even that simple motion, and rolled her frontside up and over. With quiet delicateness, she planted both feet on the deck and turned to face the castle's rear. The sliding door into its interior was but a few steps away.
She smirked. Now that's why proper fortifications are built of steel and stone, or clad in metal…
She smothered the flash of pride and crouched low. She glanced around and searched the windows for light or movement. There was none. Stepping with feather lightness, she crept toward the sliding door. When she arrived, she grasped the handle and pulled.
It didn't budge.
Ugh!
It was locked. That there was no sign of a locking mechanism, and it being a sliding door, meant there must have been a dowel placed in its track, inside the castle.
No problem.
She dropped to one knee and pressed her pointed index finger against the door. A tiny lick of yellow flame flared into existence at the tip of her nail. Keeping the small, sharp flame weak to prevent the wood from catching fire, she traced a circle in the door as wide as her armored shoulders.
It was taking a long time.
Should I switch to blue fire?
She was still using the yellow flames she had gotten used to over these past six weeks. Her brow wrinkled. I haven't bent blue fire, or even lightning, in months. Is it worth the risk of being noticed? Will I need the precision…?
After a protracted length of time, a two foot wide circle was finally cut in the door.
The heavy cut-out started to fall.
She caught it in the nick of time and set it on the floor softly, the edges of the cut-out glowing red against the pitch black interior of the castle. Her eyes narrowed. She listened, watched and waited for any signs of movement or activity. By the height of the moon and the sting of her own drowsiness in her eyes, it must have been past midnight. The odds of anybody being awake were slim. It appeared nobody was.
The edges of the cutout now cool and black with char, she crawled through the opening and entered the enemy castle.
She rose to stand and sharpened her eyes and ears once more. There was no light, other than what filtered in from the moon, and the only sound was that of the ocean waves. She crept forward, delicately, testing each step with her toe to arrest any creaky floorboards lest they creak too loud.
The darkness was impenetrable. Her eyes struggled to adjust. She felt her way through the void until her pupils dilated and she recognized the central stair tower, the recessed entryway and the front door.
She stopped at the front door and felt around for its hinges. She found one. Next, she flattened her right hand and touched the palm to the hinge's barrel.
Her brow lowered in stern concentration.
Heat formed beneath her palm and began to transfer to the iron. A minute passed and nothing changed, then a dim red began to glow from the hinge.
She maintained the heat.
The red turned to orange and the hinge grew hotter. The orange turned to yellow and the hinge grew brighter. Its shape started to change. Suddenly, a drop of molten iron dripped from the hinge and splashed onto the floor.
Without delay, she pulled her right hand away from the hinge and pointed her index and middle fingers of that same hand. In one fluid motion, she placed the pointed fingers of her left hand—wrapped into that shape by the leather band—just barely above the hinge. She oriented her body sideways, placed her right hand's pointed two fingers near the hinge and drew her right hand along her left arm, toward her armpit, across her chest until extending her right arm outward in the opposite direction.
The hinge dimmed and stopped melting. Yellow turned to orange as the energy she had imparted to the iron flowed through her arms, along the path she had traced, and spilled into the air at the end of her right hand's two fingers. She held her arms in this position until the hinge dimmed to red and the light vanished altogether.
The hinge had returned to room temperature.
Excellent.
She relaxed out of her stance and sharpened her eyes and ears.
She heard nothing.
She turned back to the door and repeated the process for the door's second hinge and its deadbolt. After that, she drifted through the dark and found the basement door. She melted those hinges as well.
Whether or not either door was locked didn't matter as the hinges and locks were melted shut; neither door could be opened. She would have made an Imperial Commando proud.
She stood with her back against the wall, eyeing the dark interior of the castle's entry area. She observed the central stair tower—the only one in the castle it seemed—and the glow of moonlight from the back wall through which she had entered. To the left and right were walls with sliding doors, all of them closed. Other than the deck and the back area—which only contained the kitchen and pantry—this was the limit of what she had seen.
She chewed her lower lip as butterflies took flight once more.
Your goal is to destroy them and nothing more. Be quick about it, not vengeful. Do all to prevent them from making a sound. Cut their throats and move on, then burn the castle down and escape back to the Chen's…
She took a silent, deep breath and released it just as calmly.
But where do I begin? If this place is anything like Mai's home, which it sort of is, then the servants will be on the first floor, along with the elderly and lower-ranking family, maybe some guards too. The second floor certainly contains the leader and his closest family, along with his firebending guards, so if this place is like Mai's house, then the first floor bedrooms will be to the left and right wings, through those doors…
The butterflies died.
Her insides hardened.
She turned to the wall to her right and approached its sliding door. It was unlocked. She slid it open just enough to allow herself through and quietly closed it behind her.
She entered another room. In the low light, there were cushions, chairs and low-lying tables strewn about. It appeared to be a living room, maybe even a tea room. She crossed the modest space, slid open the next door and found herself in a long, dark hallway with two more sliding doors to the left and two smaller sliding doors to the right. The smaller doors were in a recessed nook in the corner. They were the washroom and toilet while the larger doors were to the bedrooms.
It was indeed like Mai's home.
She began to slide the door to the living room closed when, suddenly, an orange light glowed behind the first bedroom's screen!
Her heart jumped into her throat.
The door started to open.
Immediately, Azula slipped back into the living room, not having the time or secrecy to slide the door shut.
Please don't spot me!
She placed her back against the wall and listened, waited, hoped her cover would not be blown.
Footsteps shuffled across the floor in a slow, lethargic pace, growing closer and the orange light growing brighter, casting flickering shadows into the living room.
Azula gulped. This is it; my first kill…
She filled her lungs with air, readied her hands and prepared to strike...
… But the person did not appear. The footsteps shuffled on and the firelight dimmed until both had vanished at the sound of a door sliding open and closed.
Azula blinked. Huh? She poked her head into the pitch-black hallway and peered around but all she saw was empty darkness. A second later, her confusion vanished. Oh, right. They're using the toilet...
She retreated back into the living room and positioned herself on the other side of the door, facing the bedrooms. I'll catch them when they return. From behind…
A few minutes later, she heard the same door slide open and closed. The orange light returned, as did the shuffling feet. Both grew closer. A hand holding a tiny flame passed in front of the door, followed by the vague outline of a person's body.
This is it.
She inhaled a deep breath, bounced on her toes… And sprung.
Landing softly on her metal soles, she threw her left arm around the person's torso and curled her right arm around their neck. Balling her right hand into a hollow fist, she slammed the base of her fist into the side of the person's neck.
She exhaled.
Chi flowed down her arm and into her hand. Fire jetted from her fist and took the form of a sharp, truncated blade. Immediately, skin and blood hissed as it boiled in the heat of her flames. In one quick, clean motion, she drew her fist across the person's neck and extinguished the flames the moment they exited their flesh.
The person's strength faded as quickly as they had begun to fail and the fire in their hand died. No sound escaped their lips. The person slumped backward and fell into Azula's arms as warm, viscous liquid coated the former princess's left arm.
Azula's muscles strained against the weight of the dying body. Mustering all of her strength, she lowered the dying person slowly and laid them to rest on the floor, all without making a sound.
Phew! She blew out her breath quietly. That could have gone terribly!
She glanced at bedroom dividers for any signs of light or movement, then she switched her attention back down to the lifeless shadow at her feet.
Her thumping heart slowed and the exhilaration she had felt began to die. A somber, pensive mood passed over her.
My first, she noted soberly. And a Fire Citizen no less. I wonder what they look like… She lit a tiny yellow flame for light and leaned forward. I hope it was a guard…
Staring up at her were the glazed, lifeless eyes of a wrinkly old woman, her throat severed ear-to-ear, glistening with dark, liquid crimson.
Azula's face twisted in disgust. YUCK! She extinguished the flame promptly and stood erect, averting her eyes from the corpse and staring into the nothingness of the hallway. Her stomach churned.
Get used to this, Azula! Her internal voice warned. This is what it's going to be! You're a soldier, a warrior. This is what they do. They kill. They draw blood!
She closed her eyes in a concerted effort to rid herself of the queasiness. She had seen prisoners executed—beheaded, burned—but she had not actually done it. She had not felt their blood on her hands.
Ugh, I've seen plenty of blood before, she tried to remind herself.
As the sick feeling subsided, her mind returned to the dead face that had stared at her. The young striking the old was expressly shameful. She rolled her eyes and scowled. Of course it would be an old woman!
Without a doubt, it was the old woman who had been sitting on the porch with the old man. They must have been those young children's grandparents.
Whatever! I'm the princess! If they're going to ally themselves with criminals then they're going to feel my wrath all the same!
She opened her eyes, squared her shoulders and stood tall. Taking deep, steadying breaths, her muscles relaxed and her passion cooled.
With every intake of air, her stomach swirled with chi. With every beat of her heart, the energy coursed through her veins, down her limbs and back… Smoothly.
Her purpose was clear: destroy the inhabitants of this home, these enemies of the Fire Nation.
Her actions were mandated by divine authority: she was the princess of this land; it was her right and duty to annihilate these fiends.
She knew what must be done.
She had no doubts.
The next time her fire burned, it would burn with the true color of fire.
She stepped over the dead criminal's body and arrived at the bedroom door at the far end of the hall. She grabbed the handle, pulled and the door separated from its jamb—it was unlocked. Sliding the door only what was necessary, she slipped inside.
The curtains were closed. There was no light. Standing just inside the door, she held her right hand in front of herself, palm up, and a tiny lick of sapphire flames flared into existence in the center of her palm, bathing the room in a dim, hazy blue. In the faint glow of her blue fire, two lumps of sheets and blankets lay upon sleeping mats at either ends of the room. Her brow creased.
This will be harder than I thought.
She observed the two peoples' heads sticking out of their blankets, resting on pillows. By the vague outlines of their bodies, they appeared as men. One was lying on his side, the other on his back. Both were sound asleep.
She did not advance.
How to do one without alerting the other? She chewed her lower lip. Remember your anatomy: the carotid arteries are accessible from the sides of the neck while the descending aorta lies below the rib cage, deep inside the belly, directly in the center. Sever any of them and death will arrive in seconds. Cut their throats at the same time as their arteries and they won't make a sound…
Her plan took shape. She tip-toed toward the man sleeping on his back and crouched near his head, dimming her flame as she drew near. Once in position, she oriented her body so as to have a clear line of sight to the other man across the room.
Her eyes focused on the nearest sleeping man's neck. She extinguished the flame and all fell into pitch-black. Keeping her gaze steady, she closed her right hand into a fist and pointed her index and middle fingers. Her eyes awash in darkness, she relied on the mental image she had developed from her blue light, raised both hands over the man's head and aimed her fingers down at his neck. She held them steady… And plunged.
The tips of her fingers struck the man's neck hard. Jets of azure flame as sharp as razors flared from the ends of her nails and drove into the solid lump of his larynx.
The man's eyes shot open.
As soon as her nails made impact, she tensed her abdomen and exhaled.
Chi coursed down her arms and into her hands. The flames grew longer. In one quick motion, she whipped both hands outward, the blue knives slicing through both sides of the man's neck, severing his voice box, throat and carotid arteries.
Dark liquid spurted from the steaming gash. She extinguished her flames immediately as they flashed outside the man's flesh, both to remain covert and to avoid witnessing the gore herself. In the vague haze of darkness, the man's body writhed and squirmed, and he made sputtering, watery coughs. In seconds, his arms fell limp and his motions ceased. She didn't wait a second more to confirm what was clear.
Pivoting to her left, she sprinted across the room to the other sleeping man. His back was still turned and his body remained still. It appeared he had not heard or seen anything.
Dropping to one knee before him, she plunged the base of her right fist into the softness of his neck and yanked that hand toward her.
Blue fire erupted from the hollow core of her encircled hand as would have a dagger, and filled his neck with its heat and flames. Blood and liquid boiled. Blue light flashed as the man's skin sliced open and steam and blood burst from his neck in a purple-tinted cloud.
Thick, warm wetness splashed against her forehead and eyes.
"Ack!"
The blood ran down her cheeks, under her mask and into her mouth.
The man's arms did not flail. He did not cough or make a sound. His chest merely deflated as the blood drained from his body and with it… His life.
Azula reared back in disgust, licking and spitting blood from her mouth. Oh god, gross! GROSS! Her mask's decorative teeth obstructed her from wiping her mouth so she was forced to keep licking and spitting, and tasting, another person's innards.
Moving as far away as possible from the fountain of gore, she wiped her forehead profusely with the back of her right hand. More hot blood smeared across her face. It wasn't going away; her hands were completely covered in it. She wiped her hands across her tunic first before returning to her face. Ugh! She shivered. DISGUSTING!
Once she tasted no blood and felt no thick, runny liquid on her face, she regained her composure and ignited another tiny blue flame for light. The men's bodies were dark, azure shadows in the dim, cobalt glow. Their limbs were still, their chests did not rise and fall, their opened necks glistened and their clothes and linens were wetted with a dark, purple-red hue.
Her face hardened with resolve. Three down, nineteen to go…
She left the grisly scene to begin the next one.
She slid the door open of the room from which the old woman had came out of. The curtains against the far window were partially drawn, allowing a faint glow of moonlight through. In the middle of the floor was a large, two-person futon. One side was empty with the sheets thrown to the side while the other contained a raised, blanketed mound in the vague outline of a person, and a head poking out of one end, resting against a pillow.
Her eyes narrowed. Same as before.
She crept forward, her eyes locked on the old man's neck, his sleeping face turned up to the ceiling. She was nearly upon him. She closed her right hand into a fist and—
"BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK! BARK!"
The hair on her neck shot straight and a chill ran down her spine. Fear spiked through her heart. WHAT?!
"Grrrrrrrr!" A low, threatening growl emanated from somewhere in the dark, immediately followed by a rapid patter of nails across the floor. Before she could ignite a flame for light, sharp teeth sunk into the hard, lacquered leather of her left boot.
"Ahh!" She gasped in pain and fright.
The teeth gripped her boot but failed to penetrate. They shook and jerked her leg, threatening to throw her off her feet. Struggling to stay balanced, she ignited a raging blue flame in her right hand and viewed a dog wrenching at her ankle.
"WHAT THE—?!" The old man awakened and sat straight. He saw his dog bathed in an eerie blue light with her teeth around another person' booted ankle. His mind spun with confusion and fear. Not seeing his wife beside him, he turned his head sharply to see who was there, what was going on and if it was indeed his wife the dog was attacking, one of the guards, or someone else entirely…
His face blanched.
Standing before him was the clothed outline of a young woman, her shoulders and waist adorned in laminated armor. Her face was shielded by a red, snarling mask with white fangs; her right hand was engulfed in shimmering blue flames; and her amber eyes were pointed at his own.
The elderly man gasped.
Searing heat and fire blasted his face.
"AHHHH!" He shrieked in agony as the fire burned his skin, mouth and eyes. He was blinded. He fell back against the futon writhing in pain.
Azula planted her right foot, pivoted and jabbed her left hand at the dog, launching a tight ball of blue flames speeding toward its neck.
"Eeep!" The dog squealed as the fireball splashed against its body and its fur burst into flames. Its jaws let go.
Free of the animal's grasp, she dropped to one knee and slammed her balled fist down into the man's stomach. He coughed and sputtered as fire exploded into his abdomen.
She pulled her fire blade out of the old man and turned toward the dog. The animal was in the corner, squealing and cowering as the entirety of its fur burned with orange flames. She launched another fireball, engulfing both the dog and that corner of the room in blue flames, the blues transforming to yellows and oranges as the flammable materials in that area caught fire and sustained themselves.
She spun to face the old man again. He was clutching his stomach and moaning, blood gushing from his wound as if his belly were a bladder full of crimson liquid. Pointing two fingers and swiping her right arm, she slashed a fire blade across the old man's neck, jumped to her feet and ran.
She had lost the element of surprise.