Sokka poked a stick at the fire and watched as the embers shifted, sparks flying in the air. He sighed, turning to see Katara's prone form lying on the ground next to him, snuggled under as many dry layers as he could find.

He was glad he had found her when he had. If he had even been a few minutes too late…

Sokka shook his head forcefully. Don't think like that, he chided himself. You didn't get there too late. She's safe now. But still, still, there was a part of him that nagged at him, that whispered of his failures at stopping this from happening in the first place.

Sokka put down the stick and turned to watch Katara sleep. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Adlartok's orange fin circling around the water in the rectangular pool. A pang of guilt hit him when he thought about how willing Adlartok had been to leave them ("because of you") and how betrayed, how devastated Katara was when she found out.

Before, he couldn't understand why she was so keen on putting Adlartok first, before her own needs. He couldn't understand how she could feel so strongly about him, this human soul they've barely met. He couldn't understand how far she would go, how devoted she was to bringing Adlartok back to the human realm.

But he thought he understood now.

Sokka sighed again and scooted over to Katara's side, watching her carefully as her chest rose and fell evenly with each breath. With every trace of worry, every furrow of stress, every line of grief wiped from her face, she looked so peaceful and relaxed and young.

In fact, she almost looked like…

Sokka's throat clogged up, and he quickly looked away to blink back the burn in his eyes.

He heard a shifting sound, followed by a murmur. When Sokka turned back to Katara, there was a new furrow in her brow, as though she were dreaming—and by the looks of it, it wasn't pleasant. Adlartok splashed nearby with a quiet chirp. Seconds later, the furrow disappeared, replaced by a small, peaceful smile on her face.

(he had almost forgotten what her smile had looked like)

"Do you remember the day we found out you were a waterbender?" he found himself asking her. A part of him knew that she wouldn't hear, that it was futile to speak when there was no one to listen, but he forged on anyway. "I think from that day on, I knew you wouldn't need me to keep you safe, not when you were more powerful than me." He looked down at his lap. "But I still told myself I needed to be a warrior like Dad, someone who could protect you—someone who could be fearless when you needed me to be."

When he looked up, he saw Adlartok had propped himself on the side of the pool, listening intently with gray eyes that glistened with an emotion he couldn't discern. He turned back to Katara. "For a while, it seemed to work," he said with a mirthless chuckle. "I was never scared—not too much, anyways. I always knew that whatever happened, we could always get out of it together.

"But the truth is…" Sokka closed his eyes. "The truth is, I am scared. I'm scared about whatever the White Lotus might do to you. I'm scared about what would happen to Dad if you passed on. I'm scared about a lot of things"—his hands clenched into fists in his lap—"and I… I'm scared I won't be able to protect you this time."

When he glanced over, he saw Adlartok slowly sliding back into the pool, as though wanting to respect Sokka's space—something he was both grateful for and chagrined at. He knew Adlartok wasn't really the reason why Katara was in danger, and he was ashamed of how he had led Adlartok into believing that. But he couldn't take it back now, as much as he wanted to; the past had already passed.

All they had now was the future.

"For so long, I couldn't understand why he was so important to you," Sokka confessed quietly to her sleeping form. "I didn't realize how much he meant to you. But I… I think I understand now." He stared down into his hands before glancing back at her face. "You made a promise to bring him home, back to his friends and family. You made a promise to protect him."

From his parka pocket, he withdrew the walnut. He held it up against the light of the fire, studying the intricate patterns and carvings engraved on it. "And I made a promise to protect you."

The walnut had fallen out of Katara's parka when they had tumbled down a hill—a darkened sphere against the white of the snow. As soon as he had picked it up and heard that faint jingling sound emitted from deep within, he realized that this must've been the thing Katara had used to summon the boat to the Soulkeeper.

And he had a plan.

Well, it was more a half-formed plan that he was kicking around in his brain, but he didn't really know what else to do or where else to go. He would go to Makapu and find the Soulkeeper. He would make a bargain with them. And after that…

After that, he could only hope they would accept his offer.

(he didn't know what to do if they didn't)

Sokka got up and checked the fire to make sure it would continue burning strongly for the rest of the night—spirits know how much Katara needed it. He grabbed his oil lamp and lit the wick before walking towards the exit of the shelter. It was probably best if he left before Katara woke up; he knew she wasn't his biggest fan right now.

Adlartok let out a quiet, concerned chirp as Sokka passed by, and he paused, turning to look down at the dolphin. Adlartok looked up to him with big gray eyes, and in them Sokka could see fear—fear for him.

Hot shame suddenly swelled in his throat even as pleasant warmth bloomed in his chest, and he swallowed it back as much as he could. "Don't worry," he told Adlartok, his voice coming out more gruffly than he intended. "I'll come back for her." He hesitated for a moment before adding, "For both of you."

Adlartok's eyes shimmered. His blue arrow seemed to glow in the dim light.

Sokka turned away and trudged out of the shelter. As soon as he stepped outside, he could hear the wind whistling, feel it tugging at his hood, but it seemed to be weaker than before. Tiny snowflakes gently alighted on his parka.

The blizzard was passing.

With renewed vigor, Sokka took the first of many steps on the long trek towards Makapu—towards the Soulkeeper.

The clouds receded from the sky, and the moon showed him the way.

Katara groaned as something bright shone through her eyelids. She drowsily lifted a hand to shield her face, but it was too late; already she could feel her consciousness returning, sleep slipping from her grasp. She begrudgingly blinked awake, squinting as her eyes adjusted to the new light, before looking around to see where she was.

She was laying in a derelict square building that seemed to have been abandoned for a long time. The four wooden pillars that supported the roof were old and worn, the red paint on the doors all chipped and flaked, the banners hanging from the supporting beams tattered and shredded. Moss crept on the walls and twined its way around the base of the pillars. The center of the building contained a rectangular pool, with stairs leading up on each side, and over the pool was a rectangular open-sky window.

Adlartok was resting in the pool, so big now that his body could barely fit in the basin. The orange had crept over his body until only his tail was white, the blue of his arrow now the color of the vibrant sky. In the soft, warm morning light, his entire body seemed to glow, giving him the look of an ethereal spirit.

She leaned against the brick wall and marveled at how much he'd grown; it only seemed like yesterday he had been able to fit in her wooden bucket. Wonder and amazement blossomed in her chest, and she felt a flash of pride at how far he'd come.

But at the same time, she couldn't help the twinge of sorrow that strummed in her chest.

He was growing and maturing so quickly, which meant that soon enough, he'll be able to return to the mortal realm. He would be able to return back to his friends, his family, his father… but that also meant that it was only a matter of time before he left her.

Katara shook her head, angry at how her thoughts had derailed. Hadn't she brought him back so that he could return back to his rightful home? She should be joyful, exhilarated even; everything she had worked for was finally coming to fruition!

And yet… and yet. Instead of feeling joy, she only felt sorrow. Instead of celebrating that accomplishment for him, she grieved its consequences for her. Instead of feeling whole, complete, like everything was being made right, she felt a sharp pain within her soul, like it was tearing along with the yawning chasm that would split them worlds apart.

(how could gaining all she wanted feel like she was losing even more?)

And she knew she was being selfish, knew it and hated it and wanted to feel happy for him—but she couldn't. She couldn't scrape up any elation or joy, couldn't pretend to be happy, couldn't even think of pretending and it all hurt and she didn't know why—

A low bellowing wail suddenly shattered Katara's thoughts. She instinctively glanced up at the rectangular opening in the roof just as another one rang through the air, louder this time. A third, even louder bellow was followed by a few sharp, high-pitched trills that seemed to increase in volume with every second, almost like…

Katara gasped. Before she knew it, she was out of the building and rushing through the snow. As she emerged from the old building, she realized that the house was pressed up against a wall, with the remains of an old abandoned tulou enclosed all around them.

She stopped just outside the doorway just as the loudest bellow rang out. Katara shielded her eyes against the glare of the sun as she looked to the sky.

From the golden-tinted billowing clouds emerged bright orange dolphins, one by one, diving through like they were breaking through sea waves. Their chirps and squeals and bellows filled the air as they spiraled down towards her, weaving so gracefully through the sky that it was like watching a dance.

Katara's breath caught in her throat.

They were beautiful.

A long, low wail behind her shook her from her thoughts, and she whirled to see Adlartok's nose was pointed to the sky, his mouth open as another bellow emerged from his throat. She called out his name impulsively as he launched through the rectangular opening towards the sky.

Katara rushed away from the old building and backed away just in time to see a dolphin swoop down and touch noses with Adlartok. Another one swooped down to touch noses, and then another, and soon the pod was whirling around him like a tornado that he commanded, each taking turns greeting him. His overjoyed trills joined their symphony as he eagerly met each one with shining, joyful eyes that stole the air from Katara's lungs.

(he's not alone anymore)

As she watched them greet each other, something in her ribs tugged at her, called to her. Before she knew it, she was rushing up the rickety wooden steps of the tulou and racing around the circular building. Through the slim wooden pillars that flashed by her vision, she could see Adlartok nuzzling a dolphin, chattering with such glee that she couldn't help but feel her own soul lift. His eyes were closed in bliss, his mouth stretched in the widest grin she had ever seen on his face.

(she couldn't remember the last time he smiled like that)

Katara rounded towards them just as the pod of dolphins peeled away and began swimming back up towards the sky. She slowed to a stop and watched in awe as they ascended back up to the heavens, their backlit silhouettes an ethereal halo.

But then she saw Adlartok rising with them.

Her breath escaped her, her stomach dropped, and suddenly she was filled with a cold, cold dread snaking through her veins. She gripped the railing of the balcony to steady herself as a buzzing sound started in her ears, thrumming through her brain with the sudden realization that made her weak in her legs.

He's leaving.

Numb, all Katara could do was whisper his name as he ascended up, up up—up with his brothers and sisters, up to where his father and family and friends were, up to where his life began, up to where he belonged.

Up to a world she had no place belonging in.

He's leaving me.

Hot tears stung her eyes, but she bit her lip and angrily wiped them away, cursing herself. This was what she wanted, wasn't it? This was the very reason why she brought him back! She shouldn't be selfish enough as to—to want him to stay, to make a promise to him that she would break only for her sake.

And so she watched as the dolphins became little more than shadowed masses against the rising sun, and she did nothing.

But wait—Katara squinted against the glare of the sunlight. It could be her eyes tricking her, but she could've sworn there was a shadowed mass that was growing bigger instead of smaller, almost as though…

Then she saw it.

The bright blue arrow on his head.

Katara gasped out his name. Before she knew it, she was running again, feet pounding against the rickety wooden boards of the circular balcony as she raced towards him. Adlartok let out a joyful chatter as he pulled up alongside her as she ascended to the next floor, and together they raced towards the end of the corridor, separated only by the railing and pillars of wood flashing in her vision.

As she pressed forward, Katara saw that the corridor would end in open air—and with it, a drop to certain death. Yet instead of slowing so she could stop in time, she pumped her legs faster, struggling to keep up with Adlartok. In the absence of fear was a calm certainty that pulsed deep in her heart, woven deep in her soul.

Even as she heard the boards cracking below her feet, even when the entire building seemed to creak unsteadily, even as the corridor's end was fast approaching, even when all her survival instincts were screaming at her to stop, Katara wasn't afraid.

Because when she leaped from the broken planks into the air, Adlartok was there to catch her.

She clung to him tightly as he gently lowered them both to the ground, pressing her forehead against his arrow. Intense relief surged through her veins, filling her with a comforting warmth she hadn't felt for a long time, not since…

It was then that she realized that she couldn't let him go, even if she wanted to. She could try to convince herself that it was the right thing to do, that it was the best thing to do for him. She could try her best to make herself feel happy for him, to cheer herself up with the thought that he would soon be reunited with his family.

She could try every way of convincing herself that he was better off away from her, but in the end, she wouldn't be able to let him go.

But far from the usual crushing guilt she would feel, Katara was surprised to feel peace settle into her, like everything that was wrong had become right. It was a conviction that settled deep in her bones and seeped into her soul, a conviction that steadied her with its truth and helped her find herself in the storm.

And, in the dead of night, as she lay in her bedroll, she mused over these thoughts, turned her new revelation over in her head. There was still the guilt that tugged at her, that tried to pull her down (it's not right remember your promise don't be so selfish—). There was still the fear of his leaving her that tried to drag her in, to hold her under.

But now, now her certainty anchored her through the tide of doubts and buoyed her above the crashing waves.

Katara sat up and turned to see Adlartok resting in the pool, his huge white tail flopped up on the deck. He chirped excitedly as Katara knelt down in front of him and took his face in her hands. "You saved me, Adlartok." She glanced down at her hands, remembering the chill that had crept into her bones when she woke up, the sluggish fog that had clouded her head. "If it hadn't been for you, I wouldn't be here right now."

Adlartok squeaked reassuringly and nuzzled into her hands. Looking up into his eyes, Katara saw tender worry and something deeper, something more, and her heart melted just a little more.

"You've grown so much already," Katara said softly, and a lump formed in her throat. She stroked along his snout, taking comfort in the repetitive motion. Adlartok closed his eyes in response, a trill of contentment emerging from him.

(she wondered if this will be the last time she will ever do this)

"I—I know I promised I would bring you home." Katara's voice trembled, verging on a break, and she paused to collect herself. "I know you have to go home. But I—" Her voice broke.

I don't want you to leave me.

Katara knew she should say the words, should admit to him what she had wanted all along. But something was keeping her from confessing aloud, a shame buried deep in her soul. It was one thing to admit it to herself; it was an entirely different matter when she had to admit something so… so selfish to the very person affected by her selfishness.

And she… couldn't do it.

But strangely enough, when Adlartok opened his eyes again and looked at her, she had the feeling that he knew already.

And in those eyes, far from judgement or anger, she saw something deeper, something that took her breath away and made tears prick in her eyes:

Understanding.

Katara fell into him, wrapping her arms around his forehead and hugging him close. "I don't want you to go," she whispered, squeezing her eyes as she choked back a sob. "I don't want you to leave me here alone."

Adlartok chirped in response and nudged up, pressing into the hug. But even as his chattering sounded reassuring, Katara wondered if she imagined the undertone of sorrow reverberating in his voice.

She knew that she would have to let him leave one day. She knew that he never belonged down here in this world under the ocean, when he was meant to soar above it all. She knew that someday, she would have to watch him depart from this world and feel her heart split in two.

But in this moment, with him still in her arms, she'll take comfort in the fact she can spend one more night with him.

Sokka spat out a feather as he swiped at the flocks of black sparrows screeching around his head. He growled in annoyance, waving his arms around wildly as the swarm closed in on him. "Get off of me!"

As if in response to his command, the hurricane of black featheriness seemed to back off slightly, and he managed to take a few more steps up the mountain before another black feather smacked him in the eye.

Alright. He was seriously considering catching one of these for breakfast tomorrow.

By the time he made it up to the top of the mountain, he was sure he looked more than a little ragged, especially with all the black feathers stuck in his hair and fur-lined parka. He grumbled to himself as he plucked the feathers from his coat and hair and wondered how many of those sparrows would make for a decent meal.

But once he stepped into the forest, all his annoyance melted away, replaced by a sense of unease. Something in the air pressed down upon him, an oppressiveness so heavy it almost felt tangible. The crooked leafless branches cast sharp, twisted shadows on the lonely white snow, which only made the forest feel even more eerie.

Soon enough, and at the same time what felt like ages, the forest opened up to a cliff, the same cliff that Katara had stood upon what felt like lifetimes ago. But this time, something felt… different about this place, apart from the obvious snow. Sokka frowned, squinting at the cliff. The clouds beyond seemed rather thick, roiling around the few lone hills tall enough to jut up. In the distance, the mountains almost looked like they were being swallowed up by the thick fog.

A shiver of apprehension went through him, and Sokka turned away to glance up at the guardian lion statue, which thankfully looked the same as before, minus the white coating of fluffy snow on its head and shoulders. He withdrew the walnut from his parka pocket and studied it again. The ridges were thrown in sharp relief in the moonlight, making it look more ominous.

Once he shook this tiny thing, there was no going back.

Sokka breathed out slowly. Once. Twice. Then, he lifted the walnut into the air and shook it.

Immediately, the lion guardian's eyes glowed an ember orange, and Sokka automatically stumbled back as its stone jaw opened wide with an earth-shattering roar, the same roar he had heard when Katara had been here. He clasped his hands over his ears again and waited until the tremors under his feet died down and the creature with the red bamboo hat appeared.

Sokka wasted no time in rushing up to the longboat and leaping over the side into a seat. He settled himself in and watched as the creature pushed off the cliff and paddled them into the dark blue-gray fog.

Soon enough the fog dissipated, revealing a navy blue sky full of twinkling stars so far above him that he felt as small and insignificant as an insect. Soft white moonbeams pierced through the wispy tranquil clouds drifting above his head. For a moment he forgot what he came here to do, and he looked on in awe as he saw a horned serpent leap over him in an arc and disappear back into the dark roiling clouds below.

But when he glanced down at the walnut clutched between his fingers, he saw his sister's face as she confessed her secret to him, and he remembered.

Sokka tightened his grip on the walnut with grim resolve and pressed it to his forehead, silently promising her that he would come back. He would find the Soulkeeper and make his deal, and he would come back.

He glances up at the moon once more before looking to where the sea of clouds met the sky. On the shimmering path made of moonlight, a large building awaited him at the horizon.

...

Sokka peeked into one of the rooms from the courtyard. Through the wooden bars that lined the openings, he could just make out a tall person in golden robes and a huge mass of gray hair. They were stooped over a bowl that was sitting over a fire, filled to the brim with white… somethings. Even from here, he could hear the popping and cracking.

"If you managed to find your way here, you might as well come in," they suddenly said, making Sokka jump. The voice sounded like an elderly female, and even though she sounded kindly enough, there was something unmistakable in her voice that made wariness prick in the back of his mind. There was something timeless and ancient about her, something that reminded him of the myths his mom used to tell, back when the world was all but a giant sea. More than that, though, there was something dangerous about her, an aura of power that gave weight to her every action.

Sokka knew then that this must be the Soulkeeper.

He stepped around through the open doorway before bowing his head in deference. "Apologies for the intrusion, Soulkeeper," he said, trying to keep his tone as neutral and formal as possible, "but I have something I want to ask you."

The Soulkeeper straightened before turning to him. Though part of her face was obscured by shadows, he could just make out the wrinkles around her face and eyes, the golden circle and crescent headpiece glinting in the firelight, and the piercing brown eyes that bored into his soul.

"Go ahead."

Sokka rolled the walnut in his clenched fist. He tried to keep the anger out of his voice as he asked, "Why did you give that human soul to Katara?"

Instantly the Soulkeeper's eyes sharpened, and suddenly all her attention was focused on him. She straightened to her full height, her eyes calculating as they narrowed at him. "What do you know?"

"I know that she gave up half her chi to you so that she could bring him back," he said, and this time he couldn't keep all of the anger out of his voice. He clenched his fist tightly, the walnut ridges digging into his hand. "I know that she gave up everything so that he could return back to the human world. And I also know that it's against the White Lotus law to bring a human soul back to life, and she could get into trouble, and it'll be all your fault!"

The Soulkeeper looked upon him with a strange expression and opened her mouth to speak, but Sokka cut her off, stepping towards her and glaring at her. "So why," he growled, "would you let her put herself in danger?"

Sokka didn't realize how loud his voice had become until he ran out of breath. The silence was deafening in the wake of his outburst, and he suddenly feared he had crossed the line.

But to Sokka's surprise, far from anger or even reprimand at his insolence, the Soulkeeper's eyes only held pity—and something else. "I am aware that the White Lotus had made such a rule," she sighed, "but their rules have never applied to me, nor to any spirit that lived beyond their domain. After all"—she smiled rather sadly—"you can never restrain the spirits by your rules." Something crackled behind her. "Not when they play by their own."

Sokka wondered if he imagined some deeper meaning hidden in her words, but he pushed that thought away; he was here for a reason, and he wasn't going to leave until he did what he needed to do. "So then why didn't you stop her?" he demanded. "Why didn't you tell her the risks of bringing back a soul, when she was under their law?"

The Soulkeeper spread her hands out to the side. "I thought she had known the risks and decided that she would proceed anyway. Most everyone who comes to me does. But you have to understand"—the Soulkeeper's arms lowered to her sides, and her voice grew heavy—"even if she had known the risks, she would've carried through anyways. After all, only the truly desperate would actually sacrifice their chi for a human soul." Her fingers trailed over the white objects in the brazier. "I doubt even the White Lotus would've been enough to stop her."

What Sokka would've normally done then would be to concede her point and move on. He saw the logic in her reasoning, and he knew deep down that even if Katara had known, she wouldn't have let something as trivial as a rule stop her from doing what she felt was right; she was just that kind of person, as infuriating as it was inspiring.

And yet, for some reason, he still felt angry.

Maybe it was the fact that he felt like there had to be someone to blame for every misfortune that befell them—from Katara sacrificing her own chi to their mom sacrificing her life to heal Sokka. Maybe it was the fact that Katara had made such a reckless decision without truly knowing the consequences of her actions, and the Soulkeeper would've been the only one who could've stopped her before this all happened. Maybe it was the fact that he knew deep down that the Soulkeeper was right, but now everything felt so much more complicated than he first thought.

Sokka had always been a fan of logic. Logic was simple, logic was clean, logic boiled everything down to its most essential form and helped him see what the problem was and find a way to solve it.

Having someone as the sole cause for this mess was logical. It was simple. It was clean. It boiled everything down to one essential problem that he could then figure out.

But now he wasn't sure.

Whose fault was it? The Soulkeeper's, for not trying to stop Katara even though Katara wouldn't have stopped? His own, for not being strong enough to stop her even though it had always been her choice? Katara's, for pressing on with something so risky even though it was for a selfless reason?

Was it even anyone's fault at all?

(he wished he knew)

"The answer to your first question"—the Soulkeeper's voice shook him from his thoughts—"is just as you said: she gave up half her chi, and in exchange, I gave her the human soul." Something popped in the bowl atop the brazier. "That was the deal we had made."

Sokka already knew all this—which was why he was banking on his own bargain. He took a deep breath. Once he set out his offer, there was truly no turning back.

"Then is it possible for me to give my chi in exchange for hers?"

The Soulkeeper's eyes widened before narrowing, as if calculating her answer. "It is possible," she said in a measured way, her words chosen carefully. "But I must warn you that even giving back her chi will not be enough to save her."

Sokka frowned. "What do you mean?"

If the Soulkeeper's aura had been powerful before, now it was overwhelming. Her eyes bored straight through him as she said, "When she gave me half her chi, I used some of it to bring the human soul back to life. Her life is now bound to his." She trailed a wrinkled hand over the objects in the brazier.

"If the human soul dies, she dies along with him."

Sokka's breath caught in his lungs. Icy dread slowly slithered through his veins, making him feel cold all over. His throat constricted, and he barely managed out, "And if she sends him back to the human realm…?"

The Soulkeeper only looked at him with pity, and Sokka's throat constricted further. He already knew what she was going to say even before she said it.

"If she sends him back, then she will die as soon as he crosses the border of our world."

Despair threatened to overwhelm him, but Sokka latched onto something that the Soulkeeper had said before: if giving back her chi wouldn't save her, he reasoned, then surely there must be a way where it would. "Then there's gotta be another way to save her, right?"

The Soulkeeper watched him carefully now. Warily. "Yes," she said cautiously, "but I don't think it's wise to—"

A loud, sudden crack! interrupted her, and they both turned towards the brazier. Sokka noticed that one of the pieces had characters engraved on it. With a pop, a fracture split through the one resting on the top of the pile.

Oracle bones, he suddenly realized.

With practiced fingers, the Soulkeeper plucked it up and lifted it to her eyes to read the inscription. Sokka watched as the Soulkeeper's brow crept higher and higher as she scanned over the bone, and then she slowly looked up at him.

He wasn't sure how to interpret the sudden gleam in her eye.

Abruptly, she tossed the bone back into the brazier and strolled over to him. Sokka found himself taking a step back from her as she stopped in front of him. Though she physically wasn't much taller than him, he felt like a mouse trapped under the piercing gaze of an eagle. "The way to save her," she said in a low tone, "is already in your hands."

Sokka stared at her for a moment, too disoriented by her sudden change of heart to fully register what she had just told him. "In my hands?" he repeated.

The Soulkeeper stooped down to his height, still staring him down with those eagle eyes. "In your hands," she said again.

Sokka's hand involuntarily came up. His fingers unclenched, revealing the walnut nestled in the palm of his hand.

He looked up to see the Soulkeeper nodding. Sokka stood, frozen, as she walked past him, stopping only when she was right next to him.

She leaned in towards his ear and told him what he needed to do.

...

At the entrance, Sokka turned and bowed to the Soulkeeper once more. "Thank you, Soulkeeper," he said solemnly, even as his brain whirled uneasily at her abrupt compliance. "I won't forget this."

The Soulkeeper merely waved him off. "Consider it one last favor on my part." She paused, giving him a searching glance. "It's rather interesting how carelessly you young ones treat your own lives, like they are but pebbles on the side of a road." She turned back towards her home and added, "But as reckless as you are for choosing this path, I cannot deny that saving your sister is a noble cause."

Sokka gave a start and whirled towards her. "But I never said…" His voice trailed off when he realized she had disappeared back into the darkness.

Sokka stood at the entrance for a moment, the cool breeze stirring against his skin. He dug into his parka pocket and withdrew the walnut, studying it again. In the light of the lanterns, the ridges seemed sharper than usual, and carved in the center was an engraved character that Sokka hadn't noticed before:

命

A low rumble of thunder shook him from his thoughts. Sokka glanced up at the sky before pocketing the walnut and racing down the steps, two at a time, to the guardian creature waiting for him in the longboat.

Overhead, brewing storm clouds drifted over the moon.

怕你飞远去
Scared to see you go

怕你离我而去
Scared to be all alone

更怕你永远停留在这里
But I'm more scared that you'll stay here forever

每一滴泪水都向你流淌去
Every tear I shed flows from me back to you

倒流进天空的海底
Going reverse from the sea to sky

breaking my hiatus randomly to post one chapter before going back under the radar. i'm only posting this now since this is pretty much gonna be the last "chill" chapter before the climax goes down, and then i'm gonna get the last (planned) four chapters done and release them successively so that you won't have to wait long. i promise, this won't be the last you hear of me!

Additional Notes:

- The flock of black sparrows Sokka encounters as he travels up the mountain is inspired by a yokai known as yosuzume (夜雀 or よすずめ). In Japanese mythology, it is said they swarm around travelers going through remote mountain passes and forested roads late at night. They are thought to be harbingers of terrible evil to those whom they swarm around.

- With Chinese oracle bones, questions are first engraved onto the bones and worded as a neutral statement so that the spirits could answer either an affirmative or negative (basically, a yes-or-no). Then, either a hot rod or fire would be applied to the surface until a crack appeared; in some cases, holes were drilled into the bone and the heated rod would be inserted into the hollows. The diviner will then interpret the spirits' answer based upon the shape and direction of the crack.

- 命 (mìng) means "life," especially when used in conjunction as 寿命 (shòumìng).