Yes, this chapter is called "Defeat," but don't get too discouraged! Defeat can be a temporary thing… and a very good motivator.
….
It was morning, though one couldn't tell it from the dreary heavens. Grey clouds lumbered overhead, still leaden with the remnants of last night's squall. Dim, colorless light bled through gaps in the hanging veil, to shine on three, dejected mariners.
Appa, Aang, and Sokka sat on the beach, drained completely of energy and hope. The bison, fatigued from flying without rest through hellish weather, lay motionless in the sand, drawing deep, shuddering breaths that worried his pilot. Aang lifted a heavy hand to rub his sweat-soaked fur, but it was an empty gesture. He was simply weary to offer much comfort.
Sokka sat a few yards away, resting his arms on his knees, staring at the sand between his legs with lifeless eyes. A cold breeze stirred the sand, teasing his briny hair and clothing, but he made no reaction. "How could I let this happen?" he whispered, hardly knowing he spoke aloud. Aang glanced at him, but had no answer. "If only I hadn't jumped for that stupid pack… I might have seen her fall… might have saved her."
His words, though uselessly self-damning, were true enough. Katara had been swept overboard during the storm, probably right after she'd shouted to him. Had Sokka, or even Aang, been more attentive, this might have been avoided. But nothing could be done about it now.
They had spent all night flying over the ocean, searching for their lost friend. They had found nothing. No trace of her remained floating on the water—not even a missing shoe, a piece of cloth. For all that they could prove, the smiling water-bender was a fictitious memory.
"We'll keep looking," said Aang. "We'll keep looking until we find her."
….
That same morning, Prince Zuko's iron cruiser floated helplessly offshore, braced against two natural pillars of stone. They were trapped, damaged beyond repair, but no longer in danger of capsizing. Unable to maneuver the wreck any longer, Zuko had opted for his uncle's plan, sheltering among the rocks until the storm had passed. The already-battered hull was not holding up well against the constant bang of the stones, as the ship rocked back and forth in the waves.
Zuko sat brooding in his quarters, forming a plan. Outside, the hull made a relentless thump-creeeeak noise that he was not getting used to. I cannot believe Zhao managed to poison my crew! he thought, thinking back to the pre-dawn hours of morning. Two crewmembers, who had served him faithfully since his exile, had been caught sending signal-fires into the air. They were imprisoned immediately, and, though their interrogations had produced nothing, the prince had little doubt to whom they were signaling. Zhao, he thought, clenching his fist. You'll pay for this deceit.
Regardless of his own anger, he new, it was his responsibility as captain to provide for his crew in their last hours together. Ten hands had already died in the recent explosion—he wouldn't let his decisions endanger anyone else.
Someone opened the cabin door, without knocking. "Uncle, I'm busy," Zuko snapped, not looking up.
"It's good to know that present circumstances have not soured your sweet disposition, nephew," Iro answered, closing the door behind him. On a normal day, his nephew would have bristled at the word "sweet," but Zuko let it pass. Iro frowned. "Have you made your decision, then?"
"Yes," the prince answered, still not looking up. "I won't be escaping this time."
The general sat down, as if the weight of his sadness was too much for an old man to carry. "And may I ask," he said slowly, "why you have decided to give up so easily? The dingy is certainly small enough to make it into open waters."
"I cannot abandon the men here, not with Zhao on his way," Zuko answered, much as Iro had expected. "I'm staying behind… to negotiate." The word, a pathetic synonym for 'surrender' was foul on his tongue.
The old general had never bee more proud of his hot-headed protégé, but why, oh why had the boy's stupidity grown equally with his character? "I will be staying behind to negotiate, Prince Zuko. Having you here would only be redundant."
"You will not!" Zuko jumped up and glared at the man with an energy one wouldn't expect in the defeated. "You will be taking the dingy, you and the five lieutenants. I expect you to be in Earth Nation territory by sunset!"
"Do you really think I would leave you at such a crucial time?" the general retorted. "We're right in the middle of a lesson!"
The paper in Zuko's hand crumbled to ash. "This is no time for your absurd—!" he began, when someone rapped on the door.
"Enter!" called General Iro, despite being in Zuko's room.
The door swung open, showing three, nervous-looking men in the threshold. One, oddly enough, was the ensign who'd found prince's "intense rest" so amusing. Ahead of him stood Ensign Sonjiro, the apparent leader of the group. "Ah…" he fumbled, "Prince Zuko, General…"
"What do you want, Ensign?" the prince growled.
"Yes, do come in," said his uncle politely, as if they'd been having a casual discourse on the weather.
None of the men did enter, but Sonjiro seemed to find the courage to deliver his message. "I… we… A bunch of the men and I have been talking, and," he turned to his prince, looking him in the eye. "We want you to know, sir, we're willing to fight for you."
……
ME: Voila!
PEOPLE: This is all very lovely, but what did it have to do with a lighthouse?
ME: I'll get to it, I'll get to it… Zhao has orchestrated this whole thing you know—It might take months to develop!
HALF OF PEOPLE: (walk out)
ME: Wait! Wait! (is left in dust) Fine… (sob) I'll just have to be nicer to you that haven't abandoned me…
OTHER HALF OF PEOPLE: (extend hands, as if expecting payment)
ME: Fat chance.