Chapter 8 - Trials

With the dragon's arrival distracting most of my classmates from me, I was free to focus on studying for the upcoming exams. There would be the usual written and practical tests at the end of term, which did not concern me too much, but now that my first year at the academy was drawing to a close, it was time for me to undergo the trials that would determine my course of study in the years to come. Those students who could prove themselves in all three trials would go on to personal apprenticeship under Headmaster Miki himself, to learn the most advanced bending techniques.

Those who did not make the cut would still receive a fine education, of course - the Royal Academy was the most prestigious school in the nation. But for the first time, something like ambition had taken hold of me. I had come so far in my studies, the thought of being denied the greatest opportunity to learn was maddening. So I threw myself into preparation, even beyond the standard training - extra hours of meditation, sparring and running through my forms, practicing my breath of fire, trying to increase the power of my bending which I had always felt lacking.

I was determined to pass all three trials. I would earn my place among the elite of the elite by my own efforts, and no one would be able to claim that I'd done it under false pretenses. I had come so far from that repressed young boy who wished he wasn't a bender at all - now I wanted to be the greatest firebender of all time.

I was hardly the only student in my year working hard to prepare, of course. Everyone wanted to do well. So much was riding on the trials - and, as was customary, the Fire Lord himself would be observing our performance.

The first trial began at dawn.

There were thirty-two young men in my class, and we began the test as one. In unison, facing the rising sun, we ran through all the firebending forms starting from the most basic. There was no question that we were capable of executing these forms - this was a formality, a warm-up to the real test. Headmaster Miki was the only one watching us at this stage.

The sun was halfway to its zenith by the time we finished the Dancing Dragon form. We bowed to the headmaster, and he dismissed us for one hour's rest before the second part of the trial began. This would be the real challenge, where the evaluations would take place. Having demonstrated our technical capabilities, we would now be expected to apply them. That meant we would have to spar with each other.

When we reconvened in the largest training room, Zuko was there, seated on a dias with Izumi beside him. It was the headmaster and our professors who would assess how we did, but the Fire Lord naturally took an interest in the up-and-coming elite firebenders. I did my best to avoid looking at him as I took up my position for my first match, against a stocky youth named Ryoke who was a few years older than me.

For all the technical skill and precision I had achieved in my bending, I was still at a disadvantage to many of my classmates in terms of brute strength. And while breath of fire might have worked against Izumi a year ago, it would not afford me much of an advantage now that I was facing some of the best firebending students in the nation.

A gong sounded, and the sparring match began. I fought hard, but Ryoke overpowered me in the end. In spite of myself, I glanced at Zuko as I made my way back to the sidelines. His face was impassive, acknowledging nothing, with perfectly schooled stoicism. Izumi, at least, gave me a small, reassuring smile.

It was far from the end. There would be more sparring matches, and then the next two trials to follow - for all students were expected to face all three trials, and there were no eliminations. But it was not an auspicious beginning.


I managed to eek out a victory in some of my later sparring matches, but nothing quite erased the sting of that first defeat. Even if my overall performance in the first trial was not bad, I had still failed to distinguish myself - and perhaps it was just my imagination that my classmates were whispering things like mongrel bastard behind my back when I lost, but I felt it all the same. This was my chance to prove I really belonged here, and I was blowing it.

The second trial, however, was one I felt more confident about. After the test of skill, we were now put to a test of endurance. At sunset on the following day, we gathered on the same eastward facing pavilion, the last rays of daylight now shrinking behind us. We knelt in a semicircle, Headmaster Miki and the other professors in front of us. Zuko was there as well, seated to one side as an observer rather than a judge. Izumi had not come this time.

Even though the light was rapidly fading, no lanterns or torches were lit. The evening air was chilly, but the candidates were stripped to the waist and barefoot. Headmaster Miki stepped forward to officially issue the challenge, though we all knew what was expected of us.

"Agni slips below the horizon," the headmaster began. "But even when he is out of sight, he is with his true firebenders still." He held his cupped hands forward, cradling a flame, small but bright. This was our cue to do likewise, and like the others, I brought forth my fire - a modest little flame like the one I had first innocently shown my mother all those years ago.

"Reflect upon Agni's beneficence," the headmaster continued. "Show us how strong is your connection to him." With that, he extinguished his own fire. The sun having fully set, the only light aside from the distant stars came from the small dancing flames in the hands of the candidates. It was to be a moonless night.

And that was the challenge. With Agni at his most distant, without even his reflected light, how long could we maintain our own fire in the dark and the chill?

I let my eyes drift closed, taking a deep breath. Meditation was like an old friend to me, the first form of bending I had ever learned. Softly, I whispered the first line of the mantra of the four winds to myself. Firebending, after all, relied heavily on proper breathing, and in that I had better training than any of my classmates.

It never really got cold in the Fire Nation, certainly not by my mother's standards. But the night air against a bare chest was enough to hamper an incautious firebender. Without careful regulation of one's inner fire, it would be easy to become exhausted, and quite literally burn out. None of my classmates were novices, of course, so this didn't happen right away. But at some point, perhaps an hour or so into the trial, I was vaguely aware of one or two of the other lights around me going out. I didn't see it, for my eyes remained closed, so much as I felt it.

The night crept on. Every now and then, another flame would die. I kept going. When I felt myself starting to shake - whether from cold or tiredness even I couldn't say - I reached deeper, drawing the energy of my inner fire to spread throughout my body to keep me warm and awake, and the flame in my hands alive. I sank into that fire so completely it was like nothing else existed. If any more of my classmates dropped out, I didn't notice. There was only the breath, and the fire - that same steady, comforting fire that had always burned inside me, even when I didn't want it, even in those early years when I had no one to show me what to do with it.

We were alone again now, that fire and I. Perhaps that fire was all I had ever had, or ever would. But no sooner had this desolate thought occurred to me than I took notice of something else at last. It was like the feeling of sunlight, though I thought the dawn must still be far off, and instead of soaking into my skin, it came from beneath it. Reflect upon Agni's beneficence, the headmaster had instructed us. And now I reached a new understanding of what that meant.

This fire inside me was not mine. The spirits had given it to me, had chosen me to bear it, for reasons all their own. The act that had brought me into this world had been selfish, a betrayal of friendship and a breaking of marriage vows. But that fire, that small spark of Agni's divine light and warmth, had been placed within me nonetheless. It was a light to reveal the ugliness of what had been done, perhaps, but more than that. It could have been so much more, if only she hadn't…

Whatever revelation I had been approaching, it quickly began to fade as soon as my thoughts took that turn. I tried to grasp at it, to draw it back, but it slipped away, and the cold of the air came back like a shock. I let out a shuddering gasp, almost a sob, collapsing forward as my eyes flew open and my own flame at last went out. I stayed like that for a moment, on my hands and knees, shaking.

"Bumi," I heard Headmaster Miki say at last from above me. "That was…" I looked up as he trailed off uncharacteristically, and saw the first gray light of dawn breaking on the horizon behind him. "Impressive," he finished at last.

Disoriented, I glanced around the pavilion. None of my classmates remained. The other professors were just lighting the lanterns to dispel what remained of the early morning darkness. I was the last.

I ran a trembling hand over my face, and only then realized that I was crying.

Zuko approached as I got to my feet, his expression still unreadable. "Headmaster," he said in a low voice. "I've never seen anyone last all the way to the dawn before." There were dark circles under his eyes, and the headmaster's as well - they had kept their own night vigil, after all.

"Nor have I," Headmaster Miki replied solemnly.

"I didn't…" I choked out, but couldn't finish the thought. How could I explain what had happened? I didn't even understand it myself - neither what I had been on the brink of, nor why I hadn't reached it. To my great embarrassment, I found myself crying fresh tears.

"You should rest, Bumi," Zuko said, placing a gentle hand on my shoulder. "I'll speak to you later."

Unable to speak, I could only nod in agreement. Yes, rest must be what I needed. I had lasted longer than any of my classmates, and was dazed in my overtiredness. That had to be the explanation. I offered a hasty bow to Zuko and the headmaster, then left the pavilion as quickly as my stiff legs could carry me.


The third trial was supposed to have taken place the following afternoon, but on account of my exceptional show of endurance, it was postponed until the next day, in order to give everyone a chance to be fully recovered. I was told after the fact, by the headmaster, that in all his years of conducting these trials, most of the students had burned out after four or five hours of unaided meditation. Rarely, one would make it past midnight. To make it to the dawn was unheard of, even unnatural.

I had wanted to distinguish myself in these trials, and I had gotten my wish. But somehow, there was no satisfaction in it. It didn't feel like a success. I had experienced in that night vigil a moment of almost perfect clarity, and that almost was more frustrating than if nothing at all had happened.

So after collapsing like a lead weight into bed that morning and sleeping most of the day away, I woke in the late afternoon feeling rather grumpy and out of sorts. Vaguely I knew that I had been dreaming, something like one of the dreams about Avatar Roku I used to have while I was in the navy. My inability to recall the details now inexplicably annoyed me. The summons to the palace that came shortly after I awoke did little to improve my mood, but I grudgingly obeyed.

I entered the palace through the private entrance again. The guards were too well trained to let whatever opinions they had about me show, but in my sour mood I imagined that they gave me judgmental looks anyway. I had made myself presentable before coming, of course, but left my hair mostly down except for a small tail to keep it out of my face, a style which I knew only emphasized how Water Tribe I looked in spite of my red clothing.

To my surprise, I was shown not to the Fire Lord's office, but to a small private dining room, where Zuko was seated at the low table. A full tea service was laid out before him, and though he was reading some official looking document, he rolled it up when I sat across from him and picked up the teapot instead.

"Here," he said, pouring me a cup and sliding it carefully across the table. "This should help clear your head."

I took a cautious sip, expecting the tea to be strong, which it was. But it was not bad. Zuko let me drink in silence for a few moments, during which I studied the dark grain of the polished wooden table top. True to his word, some of the fog of irregular sleep began to lift from my mind, but I was no more eager to talk to him for it. At least not about what had happened the previous night.

"The tea is good," I said instead, in a lame attempt to avoid the subject.

"My uncle did manage to teach me a few things," Zuko replied. I glanced up to see a hint of a nostalgic smile on his face. "I was never as clever at pai sho as he would have liked, though."

I took another sip of my tea. "I'm pretty good at pai sho, actually." Izumi and I had played a few times, and it was a popular game among students at the academy. I could win more often than not. But it was only a game.

"Do you still have the set I gave you?" Zuko asked, surprising me with his interest in this mundane topic. As a matter of fact, I did still have that gift, though not with me.

"It's, uh, back at the house. In Republic City." My answer was halting, dancing around the name Air Temple Island, which would have been uncomfortably close to the subject of Aang, best not raised between us. "But yeah, I've still got it."

"That was my uncle's suggestion," Zuko confided, in the same nostalgic tone. "I had no idea what to give you."

There was an unpleasant churning in my stomach, unrelated to the fact that I hadn't had a chance to eat. "Do you think he knew…"

"I doubt it," Zuko answered, not needing me to finish the question. "If he'd had any real suspicion of what had happened, he wouldn't have hidden his disappointment from me." He picked up the teapot again, refilling his own empty cup. "That's one of the ways you remind me of him."

I frowned at the implied accusation. It was true that I had never made much effort to hide my own dissatisfaction with Zuko from him, but what right did he really have to expect any different? "If you think I've been unfair…" I began hotly, but Zuko cut me off.

"No, not unfair," he said, running the pad of one thumb around the rim of his teacup. The steam rising from his tea wafted lazily from side to side at the motion. "You've been very generous, I think, all things considered. But if you are still angry with me…"

"So what if I am?" I interrupted, setting my teacup down forcefully. Had it not been mostly empty, the liquid that sloshed around inside surely would have spilled over.

Zuko's hand stilled and curled around his own cup. "I'm sorry," he said plainly. "I know I can't really apologize enough, and you're entitled to feel angry. But I think it's time for you to let that anger go, for your own sake."

"For my sake?" I repeated, indignant. "Why? What's it matter how I feel?"

Zuko looked me squarely in the eye. "Your feelings do matter, Bumi." I shifted uncomfortably, and looked away. "And not just to me," Zuko went on. "The third trial…"

"The trial of heart," I said, my voice rough. We both knew what that entailed.

"Yes," Zuko replied. "If your heart is troubled, if you can't find peace…"

"What makes you think I can't?" I challenged, looking back at him, my chin raised.

"Because you can't get through a conversation with me without rancor," Zuko answered pointedly, raising his cup to his lips. "Because you keep even your friends at the academy at a distance." He took a measured sip, then continued. "Because during the last trial you made some kind of connection to the spirits and it nearly devastated you. You are troubled, Bumi, and I know that's partly my fault. But I…" He faltered at last, looking down at the teacup in his hand.

"You what?" I pressed him.

"In this last trial…" He set the cup down, and laid one palm flat on the smooth tabletop. His other hand rested in a fist, which I saw tighten when he spoke again. "I don't want to be the reason you fail."

I gripped my own teacup tightly, but did not pick it up. "You don't want me to embarrass you, you mean."

"No," Zuko insisted. "I don't want to hold you back."

Well, he hadn't been the one who had held me back, I thought. "What if it's not about you?" I fought to keep my voice as steady as his, but a tremor crept in nonetheless. "What if I just can't do it?"

"Then it will be an honest failure," Zuko replied, "in which there is no shame." I was silent, wary, the way my mother had first taught me to be. "Bumi," Zuko went on. "If I can do anything more to help…"

"You can't," I insisted, pushing the teacup away from me. Because it wasn't about him, ultimately. That much I could admit, at least to myself, after what had happened last night... "I'm sorry. You just can't." I got to my feet. Zuko said nothing more, just watched me, pityingly. "I should get back. I've got to prepare for the trial."

Zuko nodded in acquiescence, and dismissed me. As I left the palace, I convinced myself it was only the strong tea, on an empty stomach no less, that was making my hands shake.


For the third trial, we left the city, and headed down to the cliffs that faced south, away from the harbor. Although a day later than originally planned, the trial was still held in the afternoon, as this time of day provided the optimal conditions for the task we were to be given. The wind was blowing strong out of the east, gray clouds rolling across the sky, but the day was still warm.

Headmaster Miki addressed the candidates again, the other senior professors by his side. This time, the Fire Lord was not present.

"You have shown your skill, and your mettle," the headmaster began. His eyes lingered on me on that last word, and I felt sure all of my classmates glanced my way as well. "Now it is your heart that will be put to the test." He stepped forward from the other professors, two fingers of each hand held steepled in front of his chest. "Only the firebender who is master of himself will be able to master the cold fire."

There was no sound but the wind, no reaction from myself or my classmates. We all knew what this trial entailed, as much as we had with the previous two. Headmaster Miki's words were, once again, a mere formality.

"Observe," the headmaster said. Then he executed the form we had all been practicing for the past several months, arms arcing in opposite directions. But unlike in our dry practice runs, he let the blue energy spark from his fingertips as he brought them back together, and then released the lightning into the gray sky above.

Then he stepped back into his place with the other professors. "Your turn," he said, gesturing to the open space between us. "Iyego first."

Iyego came forward and took up the opening stance, facing towards the cliffs, professors on one side of him and students on the other. I saw him take a deep, steadying breath. This was it, his one chance. Our instructors had made sure we all knew the form perfectly in theory, could execute the movements in our sleep. Now, it was up to us. Each of us was either capable of generating lightning, or we were not.

Iyego went through the form swiftly and precisely. Lightning burst from his hands, out over the cliff's edge, piercing the sky above the water with a clap of thunder.

No one said a word. Iyego bowed to the headmaster, who returned it with a nod, then gestured for him to take up a place beside the professors. He had passed.

"Shinzo," the headmaster called to the next student. And so it went on. One by one, each candidate got their chance. Some succeeded, and joined Iyego. Others failed, producing only common fire, and returned to the line of students. With every success, the air seemed to buzz with greater energy - but the failures outnumbered the successes.

Aza was called up about halfway through, and though the flames he produced had hints of blue in them, far hotter than his normal fire, this was still not good enough. He was sent back to his place, just two down from mine in the lineup. I tried to catch his eye, to show some sign of reassurance, but Aza kept his gaze trained steadfastly in front of him, stone faced. Outwardly, no one looked more in control than him just then, I thought. And yet he hadn't been able to do it.

I was called up last, after what seemed an eternity of waiting. Though the wind had quickly blown away any smoke from the previous candidates' efforts, a sort of charred smell lingered nonetheless. The clouds above had grown darker and thicker, and I even felt a few drops as I took up my position towards the cliff. But something like this could not be called on account of the weather.

I steepled my hands in front of me, just as Headmaster Miki had done. Gazing out at the water, agitated with the coming storm, I breathed in deeply through my nose. My inner fire flared, and I sank into that warmth, feeling it spread along all the chi paths of my body.

There was very little about chi paths in conventional firebending theory. I had first learned about them from waterbending, after all - watching my mother teach Kya how to heal, treating the Air Acolytes when they came down with any illness, years ago when my own bending had been nothing more than our special secret, hers and mine, forced into those dark, liminal hours at the start and end of the day.

Why had my mother let me sit in on those healing lessons, I wondered. Had she known I would be able to apply the knowledge to my firebending? Had she hoped it would help me keep it under control, keep it hidden? Whatever her reasons, it hadn't been for nothing, in the end, though it had been hard, watching my sister bend freely, hearing my mother praise her…

I tried to push these unbidden memories aside and focus on the task at hand. I don't want to be the reason you fail, Zuko had said. If he only knew…

I released the breath I had been holding as I began the form, right arm arcing forward, left arm back, bring the opposite energies together, and release -

The sound was as deafening as any thunderclap, but the fireball that burst out of my hands in a riot of colors was decidedly not lightning. The force of the explosion sent me reeling backwards, and I stumbled, catching myself on one knee.

Breathing hard, I looked up at Headmaster Miki. He maintained his composure as he dismissed me back to the line of students with a wave of his hand, but I thought I saw disappointment in his eyes nonetheless.

As we made our way back to the city, the dark clouds overhead finally unleashed their rains on us in full force.