You wince in as you hold your side. Broken ribs from the fight you guess as a groan escapes your lips despite your best effort to withhold it. Cold sweat pools over your brows as you waddle forward cautiously. The fight isn't over you tell yourself and you can't allow being caught in this moment of weakness. That's when you realize you're not in the city anymore. You can't see the rubble of the collapsed buildings razed by your Colossus, toppled down effortlessly as if they were toy houses stomped down by a capricious child. You realize, aghast, that you can no longer locate your weapon, nestled by crisscrossing vines that cradled it on its way down.
You keep moving forward with unsteady steps. You move around, your gaze frantically scanning for identifiable landmarks but it is fruitless. What your eyes see and your mind captures is alien to you. A chill runs down your spine. You are aware of the gnawing feeling at the pit of your stomach, of the oppressive weight upon your chest that's making your breathing shallow and laborious, warning you that something's not right.
"I failed."
Your ears perk up to the sound of a deep voice over the racket of the wooden cart. An image pierces through your exhausted state. It's an image you've fought all your life to suppress, to exile to the recesses of your mind yet it has been conjured back to haunt you in this moment of defeat. You shudder in anticipation as your teeth clench and you shut your lids tightly. A pitiful cry rises from your throat. It's happening again. And then the knife twists and stabs at your beating heart, at the wound that never properly healed, the gaping hole that kept bleeding out. The wound that propelled you to create a place where little girls were no longer abandoned by their parents.
"There's a master metalbender here who agreed to take you off our hands…" he said to you on the way to the strange city that was to become your new home. There was no warmth in his austere voice, no concern in his demeanor about you or what waited for you on the other side of the massive steel gate. Just the inevitability that it was something that had to be done. You had to be dealt with in the same inevitability a rabid animal is put down, too dangerous to keep around. Once he turned his back, you never saw him again. You can still recall how many times in the dead of the night, staring at a ceiling that was unknown to you you'd wished to hear the voice again, to see him again despite the hopelessness of it all. But you never did.
"She was like a daughter to me…" Your eyes are flung open as you glance back looking for the source of the voice. You notice now a field of purple flowers and mangled-looking reddish trees but you can't still recognize this place. But you know this voice, you know it well. It belongs to the woman determined to offer you a home and a sense of direction. Who took you in when you were a child unwanted by her kin. There is disappointment drenching from every syllable. You catch the recrimination underneath the lamentation. And how could she not be disappointed when you rebelled and broke away from her? Even if her statement rang hollow to you because you never felt cared for like her flesh and blood children, you still owe her a debt of gratitude. But you turned your back on her and instead, chose to wage war against her and all that she meant.
"She betrayed her ideals. She should've helped when the country needed her the most! We could've made the whole country as great as Zaofu!" you rationalize. But deep inside you know you felt angry because you felt abandoned again. The unhealed wound throbs and you let out a despaired wail that makes the ground rumble under your feet as if the whole place reacted to your emotions.
"You will pay for what you've done!" The phrase cuts like a dagger through your very being for what feels like an eternity. You fall to your knees. Tears run down your face, copious and hot. You don't dare stop them because you can't even if you will yourself to. Oppressive darkness falls, encroaching on your location. You can sense as myriad eyes peek from every corner, following your every move. Something stirs near you and you realize you're not alone. They've come for you.
"I died and this is my punishment," you realize. Despair takes over you as you struggle to steady your breath. You dry your palms slick with perspiration over your tattered uniform and in a last act of defiance, you lift your head to face the inevitable horrors that await you. A silhouette breaks away from the shadows as it approaches you with determined steps and you steel yourself for what's about to come. You're ready to make your last stand.
"You're not dead," a soothing voice announces. Thunder claps in the distance. Light chases the darkness circling you and it is then that you notice steep mountain ranges with snow-capped summits under a blue-black sky. Shimmering creatures flutter away leaving trails of bright colors. The real beauty of this place has been unveiled to your eyes.
Then you remember everything. Your body trembles out of its own volition as your hide your face with your hands. The torrent pours out from deep within you with a ragged cry. She embraces as you hide your damp face over her firm shoulder. You melt against her and the ache inside is dulled for a merciful moment.
"Why you've come for me?" you question hesitantly.
Long fingers gently brush your cheek. "I will always be there you no matter what."
"But why?" you demand. You already know the answer but you need to hear it.
She lifts your chin and your gazes meet. The blue of her eyes mirrors the shimmering hue of the firmament.
"Because it is what I do. Because I love you," she whispers smilingly, and with that, you are made whole again.
The Spirit Worlds fades away in a tailspin. Gasping, you open your eyes as you feel as if you have fallen. You can almost hear your heartbeat echoing in the dead of silence. The shadows around you begin to take corporeal shape, and a sense of familiarity invades you. This is your room and you're in your bed. And she's with you.
"You were talking in your sleep again," Korra whispers, her voice husky with slumber. Her front is against your back and her arm is firmly anchored around your waist. "You seemed very agitated this time. Bad dream?" she asks, concerned. You reach for her hand, interlocking your fingers.
"It was," you admit. "But I'm better now, thanks to you."
"I'm glad to hear that." She pulls you closer. "Good night Kuvira."
"Good night, and Korra?"
"Yeah?" she mutters. You can sense she's dozing off already.
"Thank you, for everything."
She mumbles something unintelligible and before too long, a whistle-like sound escapes her parted lips, and soon you join her. A soothing warmth fills every inch of your being and you feel comforted. You feel safe. You feel loved.
In your dreams, you return to the field of purple flowers and the snow-capped peaks but this time, you do not fear because this time you're not alone.
"Because in your arms I am safe, and I love you more than you'll ever know."