Katara nudged deeper into Zuko's shoulder, feeling for the growing, passionate flame that lit in him. Likewise Zuko drew her closer, growing dizzy with the swift, flowing movement of her cool serenity. Her forehead nuzzled up to his chin and she stirred, remembering the feeling of his skin, but not yet awakened from her dreams.

Zuko brought his glove to his mouth and slid it slowly off with his teeth. Gently, he placed one warm hand on her chilled cheek. She sighed and groggily opened her eyes, remembering his heated touch, the liquid fire in his veins, the ever-thriving core that produced such passion and love. The Zuko that she alone knew; the gentle warmth, the deep flames of his heart that burst into light whenever he neared her, the fire that roared but did not burn. Her strength and her guidance, the delicately flaming rose.

Cool, sapphire light poured from her eyes and Zuko's world spun to an abrupt stop. He was gazing into the eyes of an angel, an angel who's heart overflowed like so many sweet streams from high mountains; an angel whose soothing touch alone could quench the rage of his fires, could bring peace to the wars of his soul. She was his savior, his heaven on earth, and he vowed right then and there to never forget it.

Katara's mouth opened in slight shock but it was soon stopped by Zuko's. Holding her close he let the relieved tears fall, much as he had done long ago in the shallows of the ocean with her beside him. Her own eyes began to water as Zuko gave a quiet thanks and kissed her as he had never kissed her before.

The door creaked slowly and then flew open with a deafening bang. The iron-coated walls were dyed red with constant flame, the floor twisting and creaking from the movements of the sea, the ceiling threatening collapse. Aang looked up from where he sat in silent expectation. The smoldering eyes of the cursed Admiral did sparker neither fear nor alarm in him. He was apathetic to the world, smothered by the unearthly guilt, his heart torn and shredded to pieces as everything he loved was ripped away.

The Admiral's eye was twitching with unrestrained rage; he snarled viciously and leapt towards the boy in a flash of brilliant, dark flame. The blow hit Aang full force and he flew across the room with sound or resistance. He hit the wall with bone-breaking force and fell, heedless and limp, to the floor, his shoulder and arm burned fiercely. The impact echoed throughout the ship and danced into the sky, where thick, black clouds had begun to form.

In his separate quarters, Iroh was sitting cross-legged on the cell floor, deaf to the rumblings of the ship. Beneath his breathe he chanted in a forgotten tongue, his palms pressed together as though in prayer. The candles in the room were growing brighter with each passing moment.

Aang thudded to the floor and lay there, unconcerned with the pain flooding his body, unconcerned with the bruises growing in his skin, unconcerned with blood that was dripping down across his eyelids and staining the iron floor. He had landed on his scorched shoulder, which was practically screaming, his burned skin discolored and peeling away even as he lay there. His raw, pink flesh shone, glistening, in the light, his shirt all but singed away from Zhao's onslaught. Unburned patches of skin were dyed mercilessly with the Avatar's blood and Aang struggled to his knees, holding down the impulse to vomit, his eyes clouding slightly as he grew light-headed. Zhao grabbed him by his naked throat and lifted him effortlessly into the air. His fingers tightened and Aang's breathe began coming out in faint rasps.

"Scream!" he roared, his eyes wild and flaming, consumed with the bloodlust of his demonic soul, striving to tast the cries of death upon his forked tongue. "Scream! Beg for mercy! Fight back, Avatar!"

Iroh's chanting grew louder. He began to sway, back and forth, as though luring some translucent ghost towards him. The flaming candles about him were fading from red, to orange to yellow, and finally, to white; at this stage they began to glow with such fervent passion that the shadows in the room vanished. Iroh continued to chant, his finger suddenly clenched together, his being struggling as though holding back a great and terrible power.

Sokka opened is eyes as he heard another rumble echo through the ship. Everything seemed very distant and dim; the fire in the basin was cold and far away, as though it was dead winter and Sokka was miles away. The fact that it was three feet in front of him did not register in his mind; his body had shut down to keep from feeling anymore unbearable pain, his being numb to any feeling whatsoever besides the strong and bitter cold. Haru was motionless, lying on the floor in a dark puddle of blood that was nearly dry, his hair coated with soot and singed carelessly. His back was glistening with burns, as was Sokka's own; a great, red-stained clothe was wrapped about the earth bender's stomach, and Sokka's arm had returned, through great struggle, to its sling. The two warriors were motionless, speechless, lying tortured and abandoned among the glistening, unwashed blades that the room bred with exceeding variety.

Zhao clenched Aang's throat tighter, absolutely furious, completely forgetting the golden rule: Do Not Kill The Avatar. He was overcome with his own barbarity, his madness overpowering, his desire for blood unsatiable.

"FIGHT ME, AVATAR!"

Iroh let out a sudden, great cry as he contacted the Spirit World.

Sokka felt a sudden, immortal pain wrack his body.

Aang's tattoos began to glow and his eyes opened in a sudden white flash that mirrored the blinding candles in Iroh's room.

"You two! Get up! Now!"

The old man shook Zuko fiercely and Zuko awoke with a terrifying snarl. He leapt towards the man, hand flaming, but the man canceled the attack carelessly.

"Get her up! You must go! The Avatar's Spirit is awakened; we must hurry!"

He sped from the cave much quicker than he seemed capable of, and Zuko wondered briefly at his health. He felt Katara's hand fal on his arm and he turned to her, softening instantly.

"The old man says we must go, Katara," he whispered. Katara, confused and still sleepy, nodded faintly and rose to her feet. Zuko wrapped his arm around her until she had gained proper balance; then she looked up at him with bewildered eyes and gently ran her fingers across his scar.

"I thought I'd never see you again," she whispered.

Zuko's heart slowed and he felt the feeling of peace sweep over him again. He lowered his face close to her, smiling lightly in soft relief.

"I could never leave you, Katara. You rescued me; now its my turn."

He lifted her abruptly in his arms and she gave a soft yell, desperately wrapping her arms about his neck. Zuko laughed, loud and deep, before she turned and glared at him with the words "don't drop me" written across her face. Zuko shifted his grip on her and kissed her lightly before straightening his back and carrying her out of the cave in a very regal posture. His antics caused Katara to laugh and bury her head back into his shoulder, the only place where it fit that perfectly.

They exited the cave only to come face-to-face with Hiero, the old man. He glared at them and said something in a different tongue that didn't sound very agreeable. Zuko lowered Katara to the snow covered earth and Ariana put a hand on her shoulder. The light-hearted feeling in both lovers vanished, and replacing it was a very heavy feeling that a deadly danger was looming overhead.

"There is no time for games, young ones. At least not at this time," said Ariana gently, but sternly. She walked over to Kami and mounted him swiftly, gesturing for Katara to ride behind her. Katara followed, but hesitantly. The old priestess saw it and sighed deeply.

"The Avatar Spirit is awakened. Hiero and I can feel it. Something dreadful will happen tonight, and it will be your painful task to stop it. All is not well in the Spirit world, and all is not well with the Avatar; he has found the path to darkness, and we must not let him take it."