Earth...fire...water...air...

"Praise be He who slew Balor, and praise be His scion, the Lord of Light." – a Fomoriian prayer of unknown origin

AVATAR

The Celestial Sailors

BOOK THREE: DEATH

21: The Lord of Light

Between the time when the oceans drank the Silver Star, and the rise of the mortal race, there lived an age undreamed of. We see that you are familiar with the Fomorii, and that is good, for it is from their Golden Age whence The Bent One sprang. Untold epochs passed after the first of their kind set foot upon our world, and from their hearts came jealousy and magnanimity, hatred and love, violence and charity, the bitter fate and glorious triumph of all those blessed with life. One sect held these vices in far greater esteem than their kindred, and one among them held them even higher still, amassing such evil and power as had never been seen before, and save for Apsu herself, was never seen again. Balor was he, The Enemy of All Living Creatures, enmity and corruption at its apex, and such was his domination that the entire history of the human race would not have filled a tithe of his reign.

Yet in the end he fell, but not through the might of the Fomoriians, though their numbers were beyond count, and their power unimaginable. Nay, the Primordials themselves took to the task, and such was the totality of their wrath that the entire planet was nearly destroyed. Henceforth, they vowed never to interfere in their creation again, save at the End of Ages. By the spear of Lugh was Balor cast down and obliterated, and his followers wiped clean, but the world was changed beyond recognition, and its peoples crippled. Darkness had entered the world, true, but beyond that, evil and malice and deceit, and more, such as cannot be imagined or expressed. Lugh, the Primordial of Light and chief of his people, could not abandon this world to its fate, and so decided to add one final touch to their masterpiece: a light to match the darkness, an emissary, a...an Avatar of his own, one could say. It would have the strength and courage of a lion, with the wisdom and patience of a turtle, and would carry out his will in times of peril.

Yes, Avatar. That Scion of Lugh was the very first of our kind, eldest and mightiest and most beloved of all. We who act as stewards of the world are but offshoots, mere children in the eyes of an all-father. That is our pride. Now you must hear of our shame.

Time passed. Our ancestors were sired, and taught by our Master. Darkness ebbed and flowed, suppressed by the Scion. The Fomorii flourished, and their Golden Age eradicated all memory and trace of Balor. Time passed. Peace prevailed. Long epochs blurred, until one could scarce tell where one ended and the other began. The Scion kept his vigil, until he felt he was no longer needed, and so, took to rest. Time passed. Then, the Spirits came. Two among you have heard from Master Wan Shi Tong of their history with the Fomorii. They know of the conflict, the war, and the peace brokered. They did not know how roughly the Scion stirred, however, in response to this strife. Time passed. Apsu's wrath was manifested, and he stirred again, but she was sealed, and so did he resume his sleep. Time passed.

Hate us if you must, but there is much we do not know about this world. We do not know who sealed Apsu, nor do we know who unsealed her. Make no mistake, though: her reemergence in the world prompted the Scion to awaken at last. He sensed that much evil had taken root in the world since he slept, and was shamed for his negligence. On that day, the Scion vowed to never rest until all traces of darkness were removed from this world, and only the light remained. Such was his obsession with this vow that he forsook all else: compassion, mercy, forgiveness, wisdom, obedience, humility, and ultimately, familial loyalty. He would banish all darkness, regardless of its shape, relevance, composure, benefit...or host. It was by following this blindly zealous course of action that he became The Bent One, and because we could not recognize this change, or persuade him away from it, or stop him when we had the chance, that we were burdened with our shame.

Our only real hope was the Avatar, for who better to mediate between light and darkness? If guardians of fire, air, water, and earth could not save him, then perhaps one bearing the soul of Raava could? After all, Light knows Light. But the Avatars failed us, each in their own way. Kiyone had forsaken the Fire Nation, and inadvertently brought about an Age of Strife. K'ung Ming scorned the Air Nomads, and made many enemies with his radical worldview. Bitasu hated the Earth Kingdom and the Fire Nation, choosing vulgar indulgences over servitude. Kalkin worked tirelessly, but empowered only one nation, opening the path for a tyrant. After four generations of failures, we were losing hope, and short on time. We were desperate. We needed to come up with an alternative. After much debate, we reasoned that if we could not employ an Avatar within the cycle to aid us, we must depend on one who was outside of it. In order to do this, we needed to manipulate the cycle itself—and after much deliberation with Raava, we gained her approval.

The first child available who was not born in the Fire Nation, the Air Temples, the Water Tribes, or the Earth Kingdoms, would become her Avatar. As it happened, only two children, born on the same day that Kalkin died, met that criteria. You, Usagi, were the eldest by four hours. The other was the one you know as Suen. Now perhaps you understand how, and why, Apsu made capitol of her. Perhaps, also, you might understand why you were not able to use the bending-arts under normal circumstances.

Do you think we are selfish? That we are callous? Or perhaps irresponsible, cowardly, and even malicious? Perhaps we are. Greater authorities than ours will judge us, and we will accept their verdict, as we accept whatever scorn you bear. But the need was great, and demanded action. We made every attempt to, as our Master once said, "snuff out the spark before it turned into a fire", but were insufficient. Forgive us, for in our folly, this was...the only way.

…...

The seas were calm. The wind was still. Nobody moved, or spoke. The Lion-Turtles hung their gigantic heads. Usagi's eyes glazed over as she stared into the distance, trembling faintly, biting her lip and clenching her hands. She plopped down and sat on the deck, unable to do anything else. Understandably, this was a lot to comprehend; she didn't, couldn't know where to start. Finally, Setsuna drew a deep breath and addressed the Guardian Kings.

"You kept referring to this elder Lion-Turtle as 'The Bent One' and 'the Scion'. Does it not have a name?"

"It does," the Lion-turtles replied, "but it has been long since we spoke it. Once we realized we could not bring him away from his awful passion, we cast his identity from our minds and...forgot. Forgive us."

"Nothing to forgive on that end," Minako muttered thoughtfully. "I know exactly how you feel."

"Would you know where we might find this Scion, then?" Setsuna resumed. The Guardian Kings sighed.

"We do not. He is hidden even from our eyes."

"How do we fight him?"

"We do not know."

"Then what do you expect the Avatar to do?"

There was an uncomfortable, interminable pause.

"What we could not."

"What does that entail?" Setsuna demanded. "Do you want her to talk the Scion out of its delusions, or destroy him?" The giants grumbled, retreating slightly, unable or unwilling to give a proper answer. Haruka sneered.

"Cowards!"

"Yes," they muttered, "we are cowards. And we are weak. And we are failures. It is anathema to ask someone to correct our mistakes. But if she cannot...then who can?"

"Hotaru," Usagi murmured. She stood up and looked into the four pairs of large amber eyes. "What about Hotaru? When I first met her, she asked me to help her banish the light. Could she help us? How is she involved?"

"Who is Hotaru?" they asked.

"She calls herself the Death-Bender. She's a young girl, about thirteen or fourteen, dark hair, pale skin, carries a...uh...a big stick with a curved blade..."

"Death-Bender?" they murmured, glancing at one another in bewilderment. "We have never heard of such a creature."

"Fantastic," Makoto muttered. "So we don't know who exactly we're going after, where they are, how we're supposed to stop them, or even if our one potential ally could help us—or even where she is!" She elbowed the ship's mast, causing the entire vessel to shudder. Haruka glanced at her.

"Settle down, Wildflower. Hey, Lion-Turtles! Are the Lightbringers involved in this?"

"Lightbringers?" She glared impatiently but Michiru explained before she could retort.

"They're large humanoid creatures that are composed of a bright living fire. They emerge from large pillars of light and seem to hunt certain Spirits. Would they have anything to do with this Scion?" The Lion-Turtles hummed softly as they considered this. They whispered among themselves for a moment before replying:

"It is almost entirely certain they are the product of The Bent One. As none of the Primordials would have made them, and no other force in this world is capable of such a feat, it is logical that they should be of his design."

"Maybe if we talk to them, they might give us a clue," Rei proposed.

"Good luck with that," Michiru warned her. "We already tried that, and ended up fighting them. Those creatures are belligerent." Haruka crossed her arms.

"Well, maybe if we fight a few more, this Bent Lion-Turtle will show up. Couldn't hurt to try." Everyone stared quizzically at her; she just smirked. "Oh, they can definitely be killed, if that's what you're worried about. They're drawn to trouble, so if we're all gung-ho about maintaining the balance and saving the world, we're bound to run into them."

"If that's the case," Ami reasoned, "then maybe we should split up so we can cover more ground."

"This again?" Minako sulked. "I'd rather not break the group apart."

"I agree with you on this," Michiru said. "The Lightbringers tend to multiply when you defeat them, and even one is incredibly dangerous."

"Well, there are nine of us here," Mamoru said. "Maybe if we break into two groups, we can have it both ways. Let's also not forget that I've been sending out messenger-hawks to our allies for weeks now, asking if they had any information on the Death-Bender. Nephrite and Wu Yong promised to report any information to me if they ever got it. I suppose that's the best we can do." He looked to the Lion-Turtles, then to Usagi.

"Is there anything else you need to tell us?" she asked them. "Any help at all you can give?"

"We have said and done everything we could. Now we can only beg your forgiveness, Avatar, knowing that you could never—"

"Oh, I'm not upset," she answered curtly, to some surprise. Usagi stood meekly, but resolute. "I mean...maybe I am, a little, but...I've already accepted my destiny as the Avatar. I wouldn't go back to being a normal girl now even if I had the chance. I can do something to protect the world, to help its people... I can't be angry at that. Besides, a good friend once told me that blaming others is just running away from the problem. She faced her demons head-on, and now, so will I." She looked up at the four Guardian Kings, thanking them each in the fashion of their realm: an arm crossed over the chest for the Fire Nation, two arms crossed over the chest and a bow for the Water Tribe, a fist touching the palm of her hand for the Earth Kingdom, and palm extended with her index finger outstretched for the Air Nomads.

"Right," she said, taking a deep breath. "Let's return to shore. I think we should all rest a bit, while we still can."

…...

Perhaps the strangest part of a dream is not being aware that one is dreaming. On rare occasions one can come to the realization that the world they find themselves in, whether as an actor or observer, is imaginary, and can play out the dream as they choose, but more often than not, it is reality to them—and sometimes, a prison. Usagi believed herself to be in the waking world, because everything felt real to her. She couldn't say when she had gotten out of bed, or how she found herself in a golden field underneath a vast, radiant rainbow, or why there was a the mass of light looming before her—she didn't question it. It wasn't until she tried to move, and found herself trudging through what felt like syrup, that she had some inkling of what was happening. Usagi vaguely remembered dreams where she had tried to run, only to find herself languid and slow—or else just paralyzed—and wondered if this was the same ilk. In any case, she stopped: the mass of light had taken shape.

The face that looked back at her was one of indescribable beauty and serenity. She felt no fear or humiliation, only a sweet sense of peace, and was delighted to stare, as the face was delighted to be stared at. She walked a little closer so as to be near the face, but was bidden to stop by a voice more wondrous than music itself. It would have been a blasphemy to go against the bidding of that melodious song, so she stopped, smiling, waiting patiently. The face smiled back at her, nodding; she realized the face was of gargantuan size, almost immeasurable. She looked around, wondering if there was a body for the face, and found that, as all-encompassing as the face was, its body was monumental. If Time itself had a physical representation, it could not have done better than the staggering behemoth before her. Despite its incredible girth, it seemed neither monstrous nor malevolent, but beautiful, natural, as a mountain is beautiful or the ocean is natural. Even a Lion-Turtle would be dwarfed by this creature—dwarfed, and humbled, for power and authority emanated from its immense being, interwoven between countless beams of warm, soft, lulling light.

"Thou art welcome, daughter," spoke the behemoth, wondrous liquid rapture in sound. The human voice seemed rough and irritating in comparison; the Spirits were grating and offensive; the Lion-Turtles, once so sonorous and contemplative, were boisterous and obnoxious. Not so with whatever symphony floated through her dreams now. Usagi was afraid to ruin it with her own voice, but it seemed to burst out of its own accord.

"Who are you?" Ashamed, she covered her mouth. The face smiled patiently.

"I have as many names as I have years to my life, daughter. I am the Way, and the Truth, and the Light. I am Lux, the Morning Star, the son of Lugh, and the Eldest. I am the Lord, the One, the Salvation, the Authority. Thou hast heard my progeny call me Bent, but tis' naught but slander and ignorance. If ye wish to hear the truth unclouded, dear daughter, then know: my Maker and Master gave me Iblis for name, for t'was my destiny to despair and grieve for the plight of this world."

"Iblis," Usagi repeated in a whisper. The behemoth nodded.

"And thee, daughter, heir of my servant Raava, hast thou name as well?"

Usagi nodded tremulously, stammering in response. The behemoth, Iblis, drew a deep breath.

"Of pronged hares doth I sense thou art descended from, but stranger is thy lineage for Raava to roost. Tell me, daughter, from what land dost thou hail?"

She swallowed nervously. "F...from...from nowhere, uh...sir. I...I wasn't born in...in any of the...the, uh...the f-f-four nations."

"Indeed," Iblis stated thoughtfully. "Strange." And of this he said no more. Usagi took a timorous step forward.

"Sir...uh, I, I was told...um, b-by the Guardian Kings that, uh...that there's...I mean, that you're responsible for...um..."

"Be at ease, my daughter. I know thy mind. Tis for this very reason did I summon thee. There are matters concerning my purpose which require clarification."

"Oh," she blurted, taken by surprise a little. She swallowed, nervously teetering back and forth. "Um...well...okay! So, um...can you, uh...do something about—"

"I have already bent myself to the great task at hand, my daughter," Iblis said in a warm, sweet, solacing voice. "It has been slow work, as there is much darkness to overcome, but thanks in parts to thine efforts, the greatest of my obstacles and worst of my fears is removed, and the labors may continue in earnest. Soon yet the last of the darkness shall be banished forever, and the world's light will be eternal, as it was always meant to be."

"I see," she said, a little stupidly. Usagi shook herself. Now was not the time to fawn. "Lord Iblis...uh, I mean, Sir Iblis..."

"Address me as thou will, my daughter." He seemed to smile, which made Usagi want to smile as well. She fought to keep her composure.

"Are you responsible for the Lightbringers?"

"I am," he said, without pride or shame. Usagi felt a little bolder.

"Do you know what they're doing to the world?"

"Aye. They are enforcing my will." He paused, raising a contemplative eyebrow. "In the beginning only I existed to protect the Light. Even Raava was not yet conceived. Over time I exerted myself beyond the constraints set upon me by my Maker, and sought respite. When at last I felt myself up to the task, I awakened to a world blanketed with evil. Though I did what I could, I soon realized that I could not match this evil with my own power—nay, not even with Raava and her Avatars could I overcome it. So I absorbed a little of the darkness and refined it within myself. What emerged was what might be considered a Purified Darkness—a being of absolute light, empowered with my will, an obedient servant which I could cull the world's iniquities. And so it banished a little darkness, and with that, I could make another servant, and then another, and then another. I am near to the point where I may produce massive quantities of Lightbringers at will, and send them where they are needed most. In time there will be naught but light, and my glorious task shall be accomplished."

Usagi was silent for a moment.

"Hast thou naught to say, daughter? Speak. I know thy mind but would hear it all the same. Fear not." Thus comforted, or at least assured, Usagi drew a breath and cleared her thoughts. Was it really only a few moments ago that she held such umbrage towards the Lightbringers and their slaughter of spirits? The fury that had gripped her felt like it had stemmed from another lifetime, or was the product of some distant predecessor's grievance and not her own.

"What about the balance?" she found herself spitting out. She had meant to be more eloquent, to offer her case in the fashion of a well-prepared orator—or a prosecutor—but instinct took over her reason. Iblis seemed nonplussed.

"Speak not of 'balance' to me, daughter. I hath been witness to its bounties and its shortcomings, to its extremities as well as its medians. But if balance is thy complaint, are my actions not in accordance to the darkness that once befouled this world we both love? Aye, if great evil hath taken hold, what else but great goodness could counter it?"

"If you mean Apsu," Usagi managed, collecting herself a little, "she's already gone forever. The Earth Kingdom's rightful heir is restored and—"

"I care not for the politics of countries, child, for I hath seen the very mountains leveled and the oceans baked dry. What does it matter if one of thee rules a portion of land for a time? But aye, I hath sensed Apsu's demise. Forget not, dear one, the price paid for it. A great goodness was blotted out so a great evil could follow it. I alone am left to continue beloved Vainamoinen's charge."

"You're not the only one," Usagi retorted, a little petulantly. "My friends and I have all been working hard—"

"Dearest Usagi," Iblis sighed, "if I felt for a moment that this world's care could be ensured by an Avatar, I would have resumed my slumber. But it cannot be done. Thy predecessors hath proven their shortcoming, and they were each greater than thee in many aspects. What aid could ye lend that they in their greatness hath not already accomplished? What failure is thy potential? Nay, my daughter, tis upon mightier shoulders that this world's fate depends."

"But you're hurting people!" she shouted. "And you're killing spirits!"

"Ever and always is there a cost for peace and order," Iblis replied, patient and serene. "Either sacrifice thy finger snuffing the spark, or thy life fighting the holocaust caused by the spark. But even if I recalled my servants and said unto them, It is well, wouldst thou contest my light? Wouldst thee, Raava's Avatar, raise arms against the source of thine own power?"

For this, Usagi had no answer.

"What would ye offer up in exchange, if thou wert assured peace, safety, prosperity, happiness, stability? If ye could banish evil, what would ye give for its departure? I suffer alongside those whom I...inconvenience, young Avatar. Every sliver of darkness must first pass through me to be purified; do not think the process is a delight. I do feel the pain, but I endure it, because it must be endured. What pain hast thou abided for the safety and well-being of thy beloved?"

Usagi remembered all the beatings, the scars, the curses, the tears, and the struggles she had undergone. She had to admit, most of them happened in the name of love.

She began to understand and even empathize with Iblis a little.

"I've certainly been through a lot," she admitted quietly.

"Aye, and bravely, with a stout heart! So too must I remain steadfast. Thou and I hath convictions rooting our feet to the foundations of the earth. What, might I ask, is so 'Bent' about that?"

"I don't know," she murmured. She looked into Iblis's kind face dejectedly. "I honestly don't know anymore. I mean...the Guardian Kings had a lot to say, and I've seen a lot of bad things happening...but I also think that you've got a good point, and...I don't know, I just don't know."

"Thou art wise, beloved," Iblis assured her warmly. "To understand thine own limits is itself great wisdom; to admit to them greater still; to seek answers, greatest of all. Meditate upon this, if ye would. I shall strive to make the transition into everlasting light as hastily, carefully, and painlessly as I am able, even if mine own suffering waxes exponentially."

Usagi nodded. There was one more question hanging in the back of her mind.

"Awhile back, I tried going into the spirit world and was...uh, kicked out, I guess you could say. I tried again and eventually made my way through. I, uh...ran into some problems with the, uh...well, those Lightbringers..."

"And I apologize for that: truly, humbly, grievously. They only think to carry out my will, and do so with great prejudice."

"Right, but...when I managed to leave, I saw a...a face looking at me, or at least I think I did. Was that...you?"

"Indeed," he answered. "Dwell not upon ominous misgivings, my daughter; I merely looked to see what manner of person had passed my barrier."

"So you were the one preventing me from entering the spirit world?" Iblis nodded.

"Aye, for thine own safety, and for the safety of any with such an ability. Perhaps now ye may understand why I felt such a measure was necessary. The Lightbringers hath their charge, and do not...will not tolerate interference. With the utmost respect and love for thee, my child, attempt such a passage again at thy peril."

"Yeah, I'll keep that in mind," she whispered emptily. "So...uh...if I have any other questions," she began to say, but was woken out of her dream quickly by a curious black cat prodding her with its paws. Luna let out a little howl, alerting Usagi that she was hungry. The rock and sway of the ship brought her back to reality, and she mechanically got out of bed and opened a package of dried fish. As Luna had her breakfast, Usagi looked out her cabin's window, to a world slowly being overwhelmed by light, and wondered if all this was really a bad thing

"What do I do now, Luna?" she wondered aloud. "What am I supposed to do?"

The cat just ate, which was a good enough cue for Usagi to find her own food.

The end of "The Lord of Light"

Next time: "Drifter"