Chapter 3: an empty soul...


They were all young, arrogant, fearless, full of desire to prove their love for their homeland. Wanted to become heroes. They rushed to the first battle with their heads raised proudly, shouting meaningless slogans, waving their sleek new swords. Only to be greeted by death. Reality stabbed like a sword into the hearts—there are no heroes in war. After a month only a few of them remained alive, and they were jealous of the fallen; same madness every day, blood, pointless killings...

Everyone he knew, his friends, the brothers of the gun, perished in front of his eyes... Quickly, victory was no different than defeat. One bloody day followed another, most of which was left out of memory, only blank gaps between them. But all the time there was hope burning in his heart, a source of life—Lu Ten was waiting... Only because of his eyes, his smile, his touch, it was worth fighting for, it was worth living in a bloody nightmare. But a week ago, the news came, the final blow that destroyed his soul...

A wall with massive ferreous gates rises in front of his eyes. He knows what's waiting for him inside. It might have been easier to never come back here again. But it no longer matters. Perhaps when he finally sees him, the soul will be filled with pain again. Only pain is still reminiscent of his late life. At least this part of humanity is still to him.

Formerly the heart burned with hatred, deep and brutal, but over time it faded, leaving only an endless emptiness. He no longer saw the spring blooming in nature, the unfolding flowers, green leaves. No longer heard the birds sing, the swish of the trees. All that's left is memories, and it's just disjointed, incoherent. And, occasionally, a deep, cold pain that permeates the emptiness of the soul.

"Stop."

The hoofing detains—the ostrich-horse stops at the gate of the fortress. The rider lifts his head, removes his hood and looks at the guards. They exchange glances, but quickly bow their heads.

"General Iroh..."

"Open the gate."

The rider's senseless and empty, whispering voice makes the guards tense up again. For a moment, it seems as if they were trying to say something, but they change their minds. The gates creak and slowly open.

As soon as he enters the main hallway of the citadel, he is met by a senior counselor, obese, dressed in gilded grandiose clothes. This man never saw the real world, he doesn't know how his subordinates live, he never left the fortress at least once in the last year to look around, to keep an eye on common run.

"General Iroh. I see, the message has reached you..." His voice is full of sweet, artificial sympathy.

"Where is he?" A cold voice reverberates in the room. All the people in the hall turn to the General, and the silence prevails.

The counselor shudders nervously, with sweat dripping down his forehead. "In his apartments." This time, no more hypocrisy is heard in his voice, only fear, full of wonder.

Here is the door in front of him. The end of the world awaits behind them. He doesn't know what he'll do after, where he'll go, how he'll live—but it doesn't matter anymore. Doesn't matter from the moment his eyes ran through the first lines of the fateful letter. Then he cried, blazed with hatred, but the fire that burned in his heart and sustained his life went out forever. All that's left now is just this senseless existence and desire to look at him for the last time.

The hand slowly grips the iron handle. A few soldiers and maids standing at the end of the hallway look nervously, but they don't dare to approach or say a word—they don't perceive, they cannot comprehend his feelings. Maybe they think he is in despair, in pain. And they are wrong. No more tears run down his face again.

The door opens and he enters a familiar room. Suddenly, the thoughts are filled with an avalanche of memories: all those wonderful evenings, unforgettable nights... Now it all seems distant and hazy, unrealistic. It's like a forbidden paradise you can't go back to. Windows, carpet, closet, desk...

The eyes run smoothly through an old and intrusive image, in which each stroke is deeply engraved in memory. Long red curtains, old bed, decorated with wood trim ornaments. And on neat, flawlessly ironed beds, Lu Ten is the only clear form, a bright figure in a blurred and faded world. Rich black neatly combed hair touch his shoulders, face, calm and emotionless, eyes closed as if he's sleeping. But never waking up again... A burning word rises in front of his eyes, darker than a darkest nightmare, a word sharper than a sword, deadly and merciless—killed...

Reality suddenly disappears, the world perishes in the emptiness. As if in a dream, a hand strokes his silky hair. The same hand that recently used to hold the sword with the dripping blood of enemies. Would he forgive? Would he understand, how he is now, what that means... How many fates did he killed with this hand? How many more empty souls have been released into the world?

"I thought you might want to see him as soon as he came out of this world..." The counselor's voice, silent and sweet, full of sarcastic artificial sympathy, flows like a poison. "Deep compassion, it goes without saying."

The counselor's figure is like a ghost crawling into a room and stopping at the bed.

"That painful irony of fate... After so much hassle and struggle, a contemptible knife to your back. Once again, deep sympathy. But a war is a war. No doubt, you understand: in war, sometimes we have to sacrifice ourselves, but our fight is for a noble purpose..."

"Get out and leave us alone."

"Yes, yes... of course. Excuse me, General..." A barely noticeable smile disappears of the counselor's lips. "I just came to announce that your brother wants to see you now."

After a last glimpse of Lu Ten's body, the counselor leaves as silently as always.

For the "noble" purpose. A noble purpose... Is the one who did this to Lu Ten also did this for a "noble" purpose?..

The hall is already full of people. Various squires, scribes, generals, fiercely arguing over huge maps. At the end of the red carpet in the middle, you can see a huge flaming throne, where the new Fire Lord, Ozai, sits with his scepter in one hand, and his head resting on his palm. Black hair tied in a knot on pate, with a golden crown on top, the rest of the loose hair covering his shoulders. And eyes... They burn with a hot but at the same time freezing cold flame.

The General approaches the throne and, according to tradition, kneels on the floor, lowering his head. Better let his brother not to see his eyes.

"Brother!" A clear and powerful voice echoes in the hall. "Finally, you came back. My heart breaks knowing how you feel. This disaster hurt me no less than you. But I promise to you, they will pay for this! Our armies will crush them to the ground!"

Doesn't he understand?

"We will do justice, both for Lu Ten and your wife..."

Wife... Doesn't he feel the same? What kind of justice? You cannot shed the blood because of the shed blood... not like this... never again...

"No, my brother, I'm not going back. Not anymore."

Suddenly, silence fills the room. Everyone's eyes turn to the General, as if he had said the stupidest and craziest thing in the world. Guards nervously squeeze their spears, but the Lord's face, little by little, changes from amazement to sympathy.

"You don't understand what you're saying... But you just need to rest and recover."

Recover? His soul is already dead. It died at the very second he read that heartbreaking letter. There is no way back.

"As soon as you rest, you will seek revenge." The Lord's voice continues to strike like a thunder. "I have no doubt that the last day you will lead our troops to the inevitable victory."

"No." A word like a blade cuts through the air, cold and fierce. "I retire."

Everybody in hall gasps in awe, most faces are succumbed by the shadows of fear. A few silent whispers are heard around: "he's insane... that was too much for him..." And this time, Ozai's face changes to furious.

"What?! Do you mean we've been fighting in vain all this time? They are enemies! Pathetic enemies! It will only end when I see their King's HEAD at MY FEET. And DO NOT DARE to say "NO" anymore! Aren't we suffering enough because of them?!"

Enough... The people of Ba Sing Se has suffered enough, because the Fire Nation started this war. They are the real enemies. They themselves are pathetic enemies. Even Iroh himself. He knows now that violence isn't an answer, but that flame in his brother's eyes—in the eyes of them all—it's just madness... that imperfect humanity. Drama with no end. Generals, kings, soldiers, common people—like stupid sheeps, without realizing anything, fall from the edge of the same abyss. Is it fate? To die of your own madness?

Like so many times before, the General's hand only takes a moment on the way to the sword's scabbard and back. And he leaves without an answer.

That morning the city was awakened by announcement from the fortress. The townspeople listens anxiously. They don't know yet that the battle is over...


To be continued...