Author's Note: Updated 7/22/20. Most of the changes include some grammatical things, wonky sentence structures, and the like. The biggest thing was Sokka and Hakoda's duel and I changed Kherra's name to Sangmu, something more appropriate to the setting.

Disclaimer: I don't own Avatar: The Last Airbender and I am in no way associated with the creators of the show.

Book 1: Fire

Chapter 11: The Eruption

Running.

Pain.

Hitched breath.

A downpour of rain and ash and smoke.

Another boy... but who? A firebender. And a girl... Who was she?

Wolves. Bears. Ferocity cloaked in shadow. A deep blue globe, hanging in the air...


Aang awoke with a start, sweat pouring down his face. Sabi, resting on his chest, rose up with a screech and flew away, alerting Zuko and Azula that he had awoken. Aang's breaths came out in shaking gasps as he tried to calm down.

"Another nightmare?" Azula asked. Her face was impassive, but Aang knew enough about her to know that since she wasn't mocking, she was concerned in some way.

Aang grasped his head. "I... I don't know. I've never seen any of that before." He didn't look at either of them, staring down into his hands as the memories of the dream became even more vague and blurry to him. He tried to grasp at the pictures, trying to place where he had seen them before. They all seemed familiar in a way, but something was missing… Something slipped away.

"Of course. It's just a dream," Azula said curtly. She laid back into her sleeping bag, next to his. Zuko rolled over on Aang's other side. "Now get back to sleep."

"You don't understand..." Aang started to say, but he realized that her eyes had closed and she was no longer listening to him. He felt like he had seen some of these things before... could it have just been a nightmare? All of his other dreams were visions of his previous life and the disasters that overtook him and his friends. Were those dreams finally fading away, to be replaced by new ones that he didn't know, made up purely by his subconscious? Or could they perhaps be visions?

As much as he wholly hated those nightmares, sudden sadness and longing gripped him. They were his only link to the other world, back with his family. He did not want that connection to go.

He fell slowly back into his sleeping bag, rolled over to his side, and stared at Azula's back. His sleep was not untroubled that night.


Aang knelt on the ground in a position of respect, his face to the rocky floor of one of the inner sanctums of the temple. His face slowly turned up to look at the monks.

"How do you know it's me?"

"We have known you were the Avatar for some time. Do you remember these?" One of the monks asked. Another unveiled a package which was airbended over to the boy, where it unrolled of its own accord.

"These were some of my favorite toys when I was little!" Aang said, his voice alight with the excitement of nostalgia. He picked up a tattered air propeller.

"You chose them because they were familiar," the first monk explained. Aang looked up at all of them, sitting serenely on their stools beneath a paper parasol. With their matching robes splayed out around them, Aang had the sudden thought of Gyatso's orange fruit pies and held back a laugh. "They are four different Avatar relics, ones you picked from among thousands of other toys."

"I picked them because they were fun," the young boy tried to explain, not quite understanding the destiny being put on his shoulders.

"Normally we would tell you when you turn sixteen," Gyatso told him. "But there are troubling signs. We fear that a war is approaching, Aang."

"We need you."


When Aang awoke the next morning, he started the day feeling bitter and broody. But something deep under those feelings rose to the surface, feelings he had long buried. Guilt and the shame of running away from his destiny, leaving Gyatso and all the others at the Southern Air Temple to their deaths. Katara had long ago helped him come to terms with that, especially since newer shames piled on top of them.

Unfortunately for him, these feelings didn't go unnoticed by Zuko and Azula. At first, Azula tried feebly to cheer him up by causing misery for Zuko, but the older boy eventually grew tired of the treatment and became angry, which set a foul tension between them. Azula was the only one who seemed unaffected and unusually cheery. Aang occasionally caught her shooting furtive glances at his back, her bottom lip sticking out in a pout, but she always looked away.

The trio flew over the open ocean looking for a spot to land and gather supplies, but no islands came into sight - at least none good for hunting or gathering food. They found sunken atolls and islets so overgrown with wild grass that Appa couldn't even land. The tropical heat and monotony started getting to Aang, who felt his eyelids drooping from lack of sleep...


There was smoke, smoke everywhere, getting into his eyes, his lungs, constricting his breathing. But the heat was the worst, he felt his energy draining...

And then the scene was different, calmer, cleaner, and lighter. He was out in the sunlight, peering in on the council of monks in the Southern Air Temple as they decided his fate. He was able to look in through a hole in the ceiling of the temple using the crisscrossing vines and dry branches outside it as a foothold to watch them, the dappled rays casting gentle sunbeams on the council enclave. Gyatso and another monk spoke to the head abbott of the Southern Air Temple.

Gyatso spoke. "Aang needs to have freedom and fun. He needs to grow up as a normal boy," he implored.

The other monk, an old, hunched, bony man, made an angry noise. "You cannot keep protecting him from his destiny," he said with a scowl to Gyatso.

"Gyatso, I know you mean well, but you are letting your affection for the boy cloud your judgment," said the abbott.

"I want what is best for him," said Gyatso gently. Each of them were oblivious to their eavesdropper.

"But what we need is what's best for the world," said the Head Monk, bowing his head. When he looked up at Gyatso again, his face was resolute. "You and Aang must be separated. The Avatar will be sent away to the Western Air Temple to complete his training."

Aang almost stumbled and fell into the chamber from his hiding place, breathless with shock. No! They couldn't send him away!


Aang awoke feeling alarmed and distraught, remembering every miniscule detail of his dream. That one he had seen before. He had experienced the exact same thing in his own world, long before he was awoken from his iceberg. There was only one difference which stuck out to him more than anything else—the abbott was prepared to send him to the Western Air Temple instead of the Eastern Temple which they tried to send him to, back home. Was that how he ended up in the Fire Nation, inside a volcano? Did they somehow accomplish sending him to the Western Air Temple, when they failed to send him away properly back at home?

Did he decide not to run away this time?

"Aang, are you okay?" Azula asked him quietly, leaning over the saddle. "I didn't notice that you dozed off."

A little perplexed and unused to such compassion from Azula, Aang stumbled with his response. "I-I'm fine, Azula," said Aang quickly, pushing his dark hair out of his face. The wind caused his hair to whip him ceaselessly, now that it had grown longer. Absently, he thought that he would need a headband or something similar soon to hold it up.

"Good. Don't fall asleep again out of Appa's saddle. That was stupid. You could have fallen off," she snapped at him, her voice precise again.

"Yes, ma'am," Aang said to her quickly, wishing to avoid conflict. He was too tired for a clash with Azula now.


Sokka tossed and turned in his bed, kicking his blue satin sheets all around him so that he became hopelessly tangled. Unconsciously, his hand went up to the horrid scar running through his eye socket. As soon as his fingers made contact with the scar tissue, Sokka's one icy blue eye flicked open and he sat up with a start, but with his tangled sheets, he had been unable to stand and fell bodily to the wooden floor.

Grumbling, he pushed himself up and pulled his legs from the knot of sheets. He stood next to his bed for a moment, holding his head as the remnants of his dream faded from his mind. He had to relive a particularly terrible experience that he did not want to see again...

He washed the sweat off of his face with the water from a basin near his bed and crept out his door. He looked all around him for potential traps and tricks before walking down the hall. It was not the first time. During the course of his voyage, one of the crew members had been playing tricks on him and the other soldiers, and while Sokka had suspicions, he had no proof. He didn't worry too much about them, though. They were always harmless and done just for good humor. One time, he had been sipping his drink during mealtime and someone froze the water just as it made its way into his mouth, freezing the cup to his lips and stirring up a careful laugh from the other crew members. However, they only played these jokes on him when he was in a good mood. Nobody dared to do anything to him when he acted broody. He had suspicions that it could be Kinto, his lieutenant, and that his grandmother sometimes aided him. Again, he didn't mind some of the time. When he was younger, he and Kinto used to be fairly good friends—at least, as good of a friend that a prince would be with a clan chief's son. When they'd been younger they sometimes worked together to play pranks on others.

The very same person that was on his mind nearly bumped into him in the woody hallway minutes later, clumsily saluting to his superior.

"Lady Kanna ordered me to report to you and see how you were feeling... sir," Kinto said, fumbling near the end. The waterbender was nearly the same age as Sokka, but the prince towered over him. Sokka grit his teeth when he noticed the young man staring openly at his scar again, which he did often. As such, his response was a little more aggressive than it should have been.

"I'm fine," he said gruffly, shoving the other waterbender to the side, into the wall. Really, did his stupid grandmother have to send someone to ask how he was feeling? Did she know how embarrassing she was? Did she know how much she made him look like a weakling in front of other people?

But, he reasoned, he did get quite drunk the day before, during music night.

As Sokka stomped down the hallway, Kinto silently fumed behind his back.


Aang blew air into the mess of stakes, cloth, and wood, inflating the tent to completion.

The three set up camp on a rocky outcropping that was more mountain than island, with three peaks creating a little valley that spilled out onto a black sand beach. The ground was weedy and had very few trees—it was fertile with new life, but still seemed empty of any significant overgrowth and barely any trees. Not a good place to gather supplies, but it was the only island they could find big enough land on, since Appa and his passengers were getting tired of flying. Aang himself felt ready to pass out from lack of sleep. This would have been a great place to practice firebending with Azula but he just didn't have it in him.

As Aang plopped down on a rock, he noticed Zuko stare up at one of the mountains and then kneel down to feel the ground.

"What are you doing?" Aang asked him. The raven-haired boy inclined his head.

"These aren't just regular mountains," said Zuko. "They're volcanoes."

"How can you tell?" Azula asked, putting a hand on her hip.

"How can you not tell?" Zuko said to her, standing up to look at his sister. "You live right by a volcano." Azula made an annoyed noise and rolled her eyes. "Well, the ground is black. Didn't you notice? This volcano erupted recently, maybe a year ago. New life is starting to sprout right now."

"I'm surprised things are growing," Aang said, kicking lightly at the ground.

"Volcanic rock is fertile," Zuko said. "Things grow in it easily. Not a lot of people know that. My uncle told me."

"Hmph. Well, since you know so much, why don't you go look for wood for a fire?" Azula said to him, sliding her pinched fingers down one of her bangs.

"Wait, aren't you guys worried that it might erupt again? I don't know if it's dormant," said Zuko, ignoring his sister and looking up at the mountain again.

"We'll be fine," said Aang. "What are the chances of it erupting while we're here? We're only staying for a night."

Zuko shrugged uneasily. "I guess so."

"Okay, go do your work now," Azula said to him, waving her hands to usher him off.

"Well, I'm climbing to check if the volcano's dormant or not," Zuko said to her, his voice gruff as he wandered off.

"Whatever," Azula mumbled behind his back.


There was soot all over, stinging his eyes, choking him, shrouding him in unbearable heat... Something snapped inside of him. A moment later, all he saw was searing white...

And his vision was replaced by a girl. It was someone he had never seen before, with black hair that reached the base of her neck, wide, kind grey eyes, her hand reaching out to him. But she was unreachable, distant. He tried to grasp her hand, but he fell into a burning lake of magma... He tried to shield himself feebly with his arms, but it did nothing as he shouted out and fell to his doom...


Aang shot forward again with a gasp and a moment later he heard a sound of alarm. He quickly regained his bearings, only to see that he shot out a burst of fire before awakening and he had nearly burned Azula, who jumped back just in time. Apparently, he fell asleep sitting in a slumped position.

"What was that for?" she bit at him.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to! I had another nightmare." He said the last part to her quietly. Azula relaxed her tensed muscles slightly. The sky blazed orange with the setting sun.

"Another one? What is going on? What are they about?" she asked him, her voice coming out slow as if she had practiced this. "I don't think they'll stop until you talk about them..." To Aang, her voice sounded unsure. He knew from experience that she wasn't used to this sort of thing.

Aang grasped his head. "I don't know! I keep seeing this girl. I've seen her before, but I don't know where."

"Who is she?"

"I don't know, but she seems really familiar, like I know her somehow." Aang stared down at his open palms, remembering reaching out to the girl, and falling. "The only dreams that I know are from when I found out I was the Avatar."

"Well, that's a good thing, right?" she asked him, unsure. He looked into her face once—open, understanding, unusually kind, sort of like that girl, he thought. He looked into his hands again.

"No. Everything changed after that. The monks wanted to send me to a different Air Temple, the Western Temple, to complete my training. They separated me from everyone I loved..." he said, feeling the pain of losing his people once again, as if it was still a fresh loss. Why were the spirits making him relive one of his worst moments in his dreams?

"What did you do?" Azula asked him. Her voice was low, quiet, beckoning him to go on.

Aang thrust out his fist in anger, unleashing a blast of flames. "I ran away."


"Hey, have any of you guys ever wondered how Prince Sokka got that ugly scar?" Kinto asked the rest of the men, sitting forward eagerly in his seat as they all sat around their lunch table. There was only one mess hall in the ship with one tiny table that barely any members of the crew could fit on.

The cafeteria door opened with a creak. "You really want to know?" the Moonlit Mother asked them, striding into the small room. Each of the soldiers froze in their seats.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean no disrespect!" Kinto hurriedly apologized.

"It is okay," Kanna said gently, her aged face showing them a kind smile. "You all deserve to know. I will tell you."

"No," said another voice from the doorway. "It is my burden to share. I will tell them."

Each of the warriors' heads, plus Kanna's, shot to the doorway to see Sokka walking into the room, where he leaned against the wall.

"Prince Sokka, I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine, Gran," Sokka said, silencing her. He didn't look at any of his soldiers as he spoke.


Sokka, young and unscarred and happy, walked along the docks of a port city in the Southern Water Tribe nestled in the northwestern mountains. He grinned with excitement as he prepared for his first test of manhood—the ice dodging ritual. He looked up at the sky which blew favorable winds. The waters weren't too rough, either. He looked at all of the people around him and suddenly grew nervous. They were watching him and waiting for him to become a man. He was the absolute center of attention. Somewhere, his father was watching. Sokka hugged his fur coat closer as he boarded the wooden sailboat which was only large enough to be manned by one person.

He gripped the rope tying his boat to the rickety dock and tried not to glance back at the crowd watching him from the salt cliffs that dripped with the melt of summer. Instead, he focused on the rope with his fumbling hands, slick and cold and covered in barnacles. The tides brushed up against the dock and the boat bobbed up and down, reminding Sokka to stay in tune with the push and pull. At least he didn't have to worry about the smell of low tide.

Since he was a prince, more was expected of him. He would be doing this alone, without the help of his father, like all other boys his age. His father was far too important for something like this. Unsurprisingly, Sokka found himself not caring. He and Hakoda were never particularly close.

Sokka unfurled the sails and gripped the rudder tightly. The strong winds pushed right up against his blue sails, complete with the Water Tribe insignia. It propelled him forward without the aid of waterbending, sailing towards the ice fields which were a short distance away. Large, sharp icebergs jutted out of the water, created by a team of waterbenders. His own grandmother was among them solely so she could support him. She waited on top of one, smiling encouragingly at him. She was his only family that was happy for him.

The Water Prince pushed against the wooden rudder of the ship, turning the ship to the left to steer toward the icebergs that would soon become obstacles he would need to overcome. He held the rudder steady with one hand once the skiff was on course and used his other hand to waterbend the ship forward. In a short amount of time, he reached the ice field. Scores of other waterbenders stood at the tips of their own creations watching every detail of his trial. Sokka turned the rudder once, steering the ship to the right to avoid the first ice block. A quick turn to the left overcame the second.

As he progressed further in, the icebergs became larger and closer together. The ice dodging became more difficult. He neared his grandmother's iceberg, which was the halfway point of the obstacle course, when he noticed her cheering silently for him, smiling widely, the wrinkles on her face stretching.

At that moment, he barely noticed the two icebergs right in front of him, with scarcely enough space for his boat to go through. He grinned openly when he saw his grandmother but he saw her beckoning wildly to the space in front of him. Sokka turned to look and his eyes widened with fear and panic. He wanted to hit himself for not paying attention and landing himself in this trap! He took both hands off the rudder and wheeled both of his arms, building up water underneath him to guide him safely over the iceberg. It was rough waterbending, and he was proud of himself for being able to accomplish it, but he had one tiny mistake that he completely forgot about, and ever since that day he regretted it constantly.

Because of the running water beneath him, fighting against the regular current, the rudder was grabbed in its flow and abruptly turned, careening the ship off course. Sokka felt a moment of total lightheadedness as the boat suspended in midair, where it came to a crash a moment later in a head-on collision with an iceberg to his left.

Sokka shouted out as the collision sent him flying into the freezing waters, the flimsy ship breaking to bits as it hit the iceberg. Sokka lifted his frozen limbs to the offending iceberg and pulled himself out of the cold water, but he nearly slipped when his gloved hands didn't grasp the ice correctly.

He heard general gasps and confusion from everyone watching. Sokka felt his cheeks burning despite the cold around him and lowered his head in shame. He had failed. Very few had ever failed the ice dodging ritual, especially royalty. His grandmother rushed over to him to help, but he pushed her away. She was not going to baby him anymore!

Sokka's father was most displeased.


Azula scoffed at his words, reverting instantly back to her old self. "You ran away? For some reason, I can't see you doing that. You aren't a coward."

Aang glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "I was weak and I was selfish," he admitted to himself. It was something he accepted long before, something he wished to purge from himself. It was why he was no longer an immature child. Azula crossed her arms.

"Go on."

Aang's mind sought the memory of himself running from the Southern Air Temple, fleeing during the night of the terrible storm...

Pain suddenly gripped its head, causing the young Avatar to yelp. He grabbed at his hair and fell to the ground on his knees, writhing as it felt like his head was being compressed on all sides... He opened his eyes, and then there was a flash.


The airbender held his staff in one hand, regretfully replacing the scroll in his other on his wooden nightstand. There was a flash of lightning as he sadly looked out into the storm, preparing to fly, fly away from his destiny. He wasn't prepared. He was afraid. He couldn't stop a war...

He found himself lingering inside the window for too long. He laid a hand on the rain-splattered stone, prepared to go out into the night, get Appa, and leave...

His bedroom door creaked open, and a quiet voice snuck in. "Aang, are you in here?" Aang turned toward the door, surprised to see Monk Gyatso come into his room. "What are you doing?"

"I can't stay here," Aang said quietly, not looking his mentor in the eyes. The old monk's eyes softened. "And I can't go to the Western Air Temple..."

"I've tried all I could to keep you here. I fought for you, Aang, but the monks insist on sending you there. I'm sorry," said Gyatso sadly, holding his arms at his sides and staring at the ground, almost like a scared child.

"Why did this happen? Why do I have to be the Avatar?" the young boy asked him, staring imploringly at the old man. "I can't do this. I'm the wrong person..."

"I believe you were the best choice," Gyatso interrupted him. "You are powerful, wise, strong, and you value all life. You will become a fully capable Avatar one day. It is your destiny."

Aang held open his arms and hugged Gyatso, surrounded by the folds of his robe. "I'm scared," Aang said, tears falling into his father-figure's clothes. "I don't know what to do. I don't want to leave everything I love behind..."

The monk embraced the boy. "You are strong enough, Aang. You will go to the Western Air Temple and you will live a normal life. I will come to visit all the time.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"Thank you, Gyatso," said Aang, closing his eyes as tears rolled down his face.


"I... I didn't run," Aang said once the memory passed, holding his head as he stood up. What was going on? It was just like his earlier dreams of memories that weren't his. He had never experienced that before... but it felt like he had. He didn't know which memories were his and which were wrong anymore.

"You didn't?" Azula asked him. Now, she stood much closer, her hand withdrawn from his shoulder once he turned away from her to look down the black sand beach. He had fallen unconscious once the new memory came. Now, just as he was speaking, more and more memories were laid out for him, like a road being revealed in the night by a series of lanterns.

"Gyatso stopped me... I went to the Western Air Temple."


"You failed your ice dodging?" Kinto asked Sokka with eyes wide, sitting on the edge of his seat again. The Water Prince still stood at the head of the table and all eyes were on him. Even the cook, soup ladle held in midair, had frozen with anticipation.

"Yes. I did," Sokka said curtly, stealing a glance at his grandmother. Her face was a sad, guilt-ridden one. "My father deemed that I was a sorry excuse for a man and gave me another chance to prove myself. A trial by combat."

The crews' eyes widened. "Sedna'a against the emperor?" Kinto asked with a gasp.

"Not Sedna'a. Just a waterbending duel. I was not afraid," Sokka said to them. There was a fine distinction between Sedna'a, performed on canoes to settle disagreements, and a regular waterbending duel. "I had shamed myself, my father, and my tribe and needed to prove my manhood."

"Against your own father? How did you—"

"That's not important," Sokka cut across Kinto's question. "Later that night, I faced my father in an arena of battle."


The arena was a large, rectangular platform of ice surrounded by a moat of water neatly cut in the ice. Two warriors, both of them royalty, stood on opposite ends of the arena, dressed like traditional waterbenders prepared for battle in the wolf helms to represent their clan. There was one difference—long, pure white ermine tails hung from their shoulders, ending in black tips. For hundreds of years, waterbenders wore the tails as a symbol of their bravery and honor in these traditional battles, used to settle differences. Spectators lined up outside of their arena and the water, sitting on the natural, icy rock that jutted from the snowy, barren wastelands.

"Prove yourself as a man instead of an embarrassment," said Water Emperor Hakoda, falling into a waterbending stance. Sokka gulped. Those words chilled him to this very day. "You're weak. You've always been weak. How can you expect to one day lead this tribe when you're softer than most women?"

Hakoda drew water from the moat around them and sent it at Sokka, but it was just a small attack—a test. He easily redirected to the side. Sokka was not starting off the battle easily like his father. He was going to put everything he had into it. He lifted his arms slowly, converting the ice beneath him to water, throwing his arms forward and sending it across the floor to his father.

Ice jutted from the ground in front of Hakoda, blocking the water. A moment later, a single spike shot up in front of the Emperor and he broke it off from the ground, holding it in his hands like a sword. Sokka punched another stream of water out at Hakoda, but the older man dodged to the side, ready to swing his blade up close. Rough and ruthless.

The son's attacks were weak and unfocused, ungraceful and clumsy. His father brought the battle to close range, swinging his icy sword without care for holding back anymore. Sokka stepped back with each swipe, his waterbending attacks becoming panicked and inaccurate. He didn't want to be a disappointment. Didn't want to embarrass his father more than he embarrassed himself. He knew from the start that he had no chance of winning this - Hakoda only wanted to teach him a lesson. To shame him and spur him on to do better next time. He didn't know his father would go this far, that he'd aim to draw blood.

Hakoda, tired of his son's movements, brought up his free hand to shoot a concentrated blast of water at Sokka. The Prince's eyes widened as the attack hit him in the chest, causing him to fall back and land painfully on the ice.

Sokka watched his father, defenseless, as Hakoda raised the ice sword into the air, ready to strike. The blade fell, cutting across the boy's face.

Blood spurted into the air and a piercing scream ripped through the night.


"So that's what happened," Kinto said to himself. "I always thought it was a fishing accident."

"No, those are the scars on my thumbs. But now you know," said Sokka, crossing his arms in front of him. He closed his eye. "After the fight, I was shamed and humiliated and scarred even worse. I left the Southern Water Tribe in my own self-imposed exile. I will return only when I find the Avatar to restore my own honor in the eyes of my people. I have to do something right."

"The Avatar gives you hope," Kinto said to him, his face not stern or jeering or sly as it usually was. Sokka didn't reply.


"But I don't get it," Azula said to him. "Why do you seem surprised that you went to the Western Air Temple? You're acting as if you're finding this out for the first time yourself."

Aang gave her a fixed stare, wondering just how clever Azula really was. Lately, she had been picking up on things, some of which he wasn't supposed to know. She easily spotted his odd behavior, especially when it came to talking about Sokka. The truth was that he was finding these things out for the first time. They were directly connected to the reason why he was found in the Fire Nation this time, instead of the Southern Water Tribe, that much he could tell. The information was coming to him slowly, probably injected into him by the spirits to fit in this new world… A fabrication and nothing more.

Right now, Aang realized, he would have to face a very tough decision. "I can't tell you the answer to that," he said to her, bowing his head.

"Why not?" She scowled as if offended.

"Because... I don't think you're ready for the truth. I'll just say that... I'm learning new things about myself with these memories I'm telling you about."

"Why? What happened? Did you lose your memory?" she asked. Aang looked to the sky, brilliantly splayed with orange and pink of the setting sun, trying to decide how much he could—should—tell her.

"I guess you can say that," he said finally.

"Why won't you tell me?" Her voice came out harsh, but then it softened a little. "Don't you trust me?"

"No, no, I do," Aang reassured her quickly. She seemed as if he had betrayed her. "It's just that... it would be difficult for me. I don't think that I'm ready. Can you believe that?"

Azula let out a long, low sigh. "I suppose so."


Gyatso had brought Aang himself to the Western Air Temple to complete his training. Once they finally went, Aang grew excited. Gyatso would come to see him all the time—he promised, and monks like Gyatso never went back on their promises—and he'd make plenty of new friends. The Western Air Temple was one of his favorites, mostly because of the way it was unique. He had seen it a few times before in his life, and every time he saw the temple the view was never any less magnificent.

He was welcomed to the temple wholeheartedly by the nuns who lived and worked there. Since the Western Air Temple was mainly for girls and women, every occupant over the age of five was female. Other than Aang, the only boys were the babies and very young children, too young to formally begin their airbender training.

A group of girls stood near the central water fountain of the temple grounds. Next to him, Gyatso gave him a nudge, a wink, and a gesture to the girls, who were all around his age. Aang brightened as his mentor conversed with the nuns.

"Hi, I'm Aang! Nice to meet you," the boy said, walking over to them with a happy grin. The knot of girls looked at each other, giggled, and walked away, blushing back at him. Aang scratched his bald head. "What did I do wrong?" he wondered to himself.

"Hi there, my name's Sangmu. Welcome to our temple," said another girl, walking over to him. Unlike the others, she didn't giggle, but had a bright smile and wide, welcoming grey eyes. Her black hair was mostly loose and hanging to her neck, with two pieces tied into braids that framed her face. She seemed like silk in sunlight.

"I'm, um, Aang," the boy managed to say, not realizing he had repeated himself. Suddenly, he felt very hot and pulled at the neck of his clothes.

"I heard some rumors that the Avatar was supposed to come live with us. I guess he's you, isn't he?" the girl named Sangmu said, leaning towards him.

Aang immediately slumped his shoulders. He didn't want a repeat of the incident with his friends back at the Southern Air Temple. Would everyone he met alienate him now? Treat him differently than they normally would? "Yeah, I guess..."

"Well what's wrong?" Sangmu asked him, concerned.

"I don't want to be the Avatar. Nobody talks to me after they find out. You saw those girls a few minutes ago," said Aang sadly.

"I don't think it matters," the girl said. "You're still a normal person to me. You're not any different from any other human being."

Aang grinned broadly. "Thank you. I really needed that."

Sangmu smiled, her gaze sympathetic. "Come on. Let me show you our All Day Echo Chamber."


Aang thought back to the memory he just 'witnessed,' thinking about the airbender, Sangmu. He made a good friend in her, he realized. Thinking ahead to the memories that stretched out before him, he was sad that he, this Aang, the one he was now, didn't truly get to know her. He would have liked to see her again, but he knew her sad fate.

"So you met a girl. Big deal," Azula said, inspecting her nails.

"We became closer the next few days," Aang continued. "I even brought her down to the Fire Nation to meet my friend Kuzon. It was lots of fun. We were each other's only friends in the Western Air Temple..." That's who the firebender was from his dreams. It was Kuzon—intelligent golden eyes, black hair in a topknot, clothes of a noble and all.

"But what happened?"

"Seiryu's Moon. The waterbenders went after the Western Air Temple first for the start of the war. I wasn't there or anywhere near strong enough yet to protect them, my own people, none of the other children."


Lightning flashed through the stormy sky as torrents of rain fell onto the temple grounds. Two moons, one shining silver and the other a deep blue, hung in the sky, omnipresent, looming. The canyon was far from peaceful—it had been gripped by war.

"Children! Children, please, leave!" one of the nuns was shouting to them. "Take the younger ones with you! They must stay safe!"

Some of the older girls gathered up the younger kids, trying to hold back tears to stay strong. They ushered them to the bison stables. Some of them blasted away Water Tribe soldiers with winds when they came near. Other warriors wrapped the stone pillars with ice, ripping them down to take the whole temple off of the cliffside. Water was all around them and they used it to their advantage.

Aang watched the grotesque and horrifying powers of the waterbenders as they manipulated the liquids inside of other people, killing them in the most gruesome of ways. The addition of a second moon overpowered their waterbending, enabling them to do things that were nearly impossible. Nuns were being slaughtered before Aang's very eyes. He stayed behind, away from the other girls.

"Sister Maya, let me fight!" Aang yelled to the nun, who sent blasts of air at a soldier, knocking him off the cliff. "I'm the Avatar, I have to do something!" He was an airbending master. He could fight.

"Protect them! Go to safety with the children!"

"I'm fighting too!" a voice yelled to them. Sangmu ran up to Aang's side. "Kuzon's here. He'll help us." The action around them paused as Sister Maya turned to them, hands on Aang's and Sangmu's shoulders. Kuzon stood behind them, ready to fight, fire wreathing his fists even as the rain threatened to quench them.

"Listen to me, Aang. You are the world's last hope now. You cannot die here. Escape to safety with your friends."

"I will not sit there idly while my home is being destroyed!" Sangmu yelled, and she was such a far cry from the gentle girl Aang thought he knew that it shocked him. "These are my people, and I will not let them fall."

"Aang, Sangmu, let's go. She's right, these people are too strong for us," said Kuzon, the voice of reason as always. "Let's get out of here and live to fight another day. They are doing their duty. Now we have to do ours."

"How can you say that, Kuzon?" Sangmu turned to him, shocked.

"These soldiers are very powerful waterbenders!" Kuzon shouted to her, shooting a fist of flame at a warrior who got too close. "Only Aang is a master bender out of the three of us. It'd be wiser to get out of here while we still can."

Aang breathed deeply and clutched his staff. "Kuzon, I think you're right. Come on, Sangmu. We have to leave now!"

"Aang, how could you give in so easily?" the girl asked, her voice laced with hurt. And for the first time ever, Aang burst into anger at the girl he thought he loved.

"This is the hardest decision I've ever made in my life!" he shouted, a thunderclap booming through the air. "We have no other choice." Sister Maya left them to fight off more warriors to protect the place she loved.

Sangmu wrenched her eyes away from the fighting and shut them with pain. "I don't want to do this," she said quietly, tears threatening to fall from her eyes. "But you're right, Aang. There will be time to fight later..." Aang gripped her hand as a form of reassurance for them both. Sangmu held out her other hand to Kuzon, who grabbed it. "Let's go."

The other children were already gone by the time the trio got to their bison. Sangmu boarded her own alone while Aang and Kuzon got on Appa. They flew into the sky, away from the death and carnage of the raid on the Western Air Temple. Each thunderclap made the three wince in fear. The trip to the mainland of the Fire Nation was painfully short and silent. They were confused and scared.

They slept in a sea cave near the shore of the Fire Nation, the ocean lapping up against the nearby cliffside. Sleep claimed Aang and Kuzon easily, but before he fell asleep, Aang saw Sangmu through half-lidded eyes as she looked out of the mouth of the cave to the storm outside.

When Aang awoke to what he presumed was the next day (it was hard to tell, because the storm continued to rage), he found a letter rolled up near him on a rock. Noticing that Sangmu was missing from her bedroll, he snatched it up and read.

Aang and Kuzon,

I don't know if you two will ever see me again, but the Water Tribe's attack on our people can't be ignored. I didn't know how you felt, Aang, until it happened to me. My people are dead. But I'm going to take action. I am going to defeat Water Chief Seiryu myself. I have to do this. I'm sorry.

Goodbye,

Sangmu

Aang was out of that cave in seconds.

He was soaked to the bone again, flying through the dark sky. There was so much rain. He had never seen more in his life. Appa's reins slipped beneath his fingers. He gripped them tighter, taking the quickest route to the Southern Water Tribe. He had to catch up to Sangmu... he couldn't be far behind her...

He flew low to the ground, rising in altitude only when he passed over a range of mountains. In his single-minded determination he completely ignored the fact that one of them belched smoke into the air and he didn't notice it until Appa passed through it.

The smell of sulphur was thick, immediately causing his eyes to burn and blur and making him choke. He tried to bring Appa higher, but the bison, as large as he was, was also getting rapidly weaker. He had to get out... out of the smoke, out of the heat... it was everywhere. Somewhere beneath him—or was it above? Around? He had no sense of direction anymore—there was a loud crack that permeated through the air.

Aang felt his grip on reality loosen, felt nothing around him, nothing at all...

And then came the immense, raw power.

The wind spun around the boy in a protective sphere, his eyes and tattoos glowing the purest white. But it was a worthless effort. His large and heavy bison kept falling. The Avatar, not quite Aang anymore but a vessel of spirits, felt only an unknown connection to the falling creature, ready to meet its doom. The floating Avatar swooped down and enveloped the creature in protective winds, just as the lava all around them jumped up as if trying to reclaim its treasure. The Avatar's hands moved, seeing no other way out except for in, bending the burning hot magma around him, melding it together with the light of the Avatar spirit, creating a ruby-like firestone that would not be found for one hundred years…


"And the next thing I knew..." I was, well, me. I took over his life... "...you woke me up. The other Air Temples got attacked right after the western one."

"Yeah. And then you attacked me," Azula said.

"Right," Aang agreed with a grin. Aang fixed his stare on the ground, between his feet.

In all reality, Aang had taken over a different person's life. He chose to look at the Aang of this world as a different person, because in all honesty, they were. Aang of the world where the Fire Nation ruled was more mature, more used to war—had taken over this Aang's body and memories.

"Well, that's off your chest now, right?" Azula asked him curtly. "I hope for all of our sakes that you won't have those nightmares anymore."

"You know I can't guarantee that, Azula," he said to her. Because truthfully, I didn't get anything off my chest. The hurt and the pain of losing my friends and family is still there, thanks to a different Azula.

He wanted to tell her, but he couldn't. It was not her burden to bear.

Azula suddenly tensed and clutched her rock seat with both hands. "Wait, did you just feel that?"

Aang lifted his head. "No, what was it?"

"The ground is shaking. It's been happening for a while and I thought I only imagined it. Something's happening," she said, her voice not betraying an inch of panic. "We need to leave."

"Okay, I'll go find Zuko," said Aang. As he stood up to grab his staff, all hell broke loose.

With a violent explosion that shook the whole island, the volcano erupted. Black, sooty smoke gushed into the air as molten rock exploded from the volcano's rim and seeped down the mountainside. Aang gaped in horror at the natural disaster, but then quickly gathered his wits. He had faced a volcano down before and won. The other time... he was not so lucky, but he had totally different experiences to help him.

"Azula, get Appa and Sabi and leave the island now. I'm going to find Zuko," Aang ordered, snapping open his glider.

"Don't tell me what to do!" she snapped at him.

"If you don't listen to me right now, you will die and I won't be able to do anything about it," he said, standing his ground with the sternest voice he could manage. He spun the glider to summon an updraft and flew off.

Aang was immediately reminded of the incident at Mount Makapu. However, this time he was not trying to protect a town full of people—he was going to save two others and let this natural disaster run its course. He called out loudly for Zuko, but the moment he opened his mouth his throat felt hoarse and burned from the smoke, which seemed to be all around him already.

Aang circled around the volcano, searching for the figure of Zuko. He continued to shout despite the pain and the heat. He snapped his glider shut and swung it around himself, clearing some of the smoke away with a blast of wind. In the brief respite, he finally saw Zuko crouched on a rocky precipice on the verge of unconsciousness. The lava crept toward him but Aang knew the heat must be too much to bear. The airbender swooped down on his friend and blasted more fierce winds at the steadily falling lava, rapidly cooling it into volcanic rock, giving them a little more time.

"Come on, Zuko. Get on my glider," the younger boy ushered him. Weakly, the pale-faced yet soot-covered older boy complied and climbed on the outstretched wings. As soon as he was set, Aang kicked off of the precipice, seeking cleaner air.

"I told you so," Zuko croaked.

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry Zuzu," Aang said to him, smiling even though the older boy couldn't see.

"Hey, don't call me that," said Zuko with a semblance of a grin.


She couldn't help but to admire him. He was so strong in the face of danger, so ready to defend his friends and to stand up to them at the same time. He was powerful, there was no doubt about that. Whenever she was around the boy, she couldn't help but feel weaker. He sometimes had that effect on her... so she had to prove that she was strong, too.

And then there was that mysterious air enshrouding him. Even though he had just spilled his past to her moments before, there was something he was keeping from her—and she knew it. She saw it in his eyes whenever he looked at her. Did she remind him of someone? Someone he had lost? Someone he... loved?

She quickly realized that she was kidding herself. Aang was too young for true love.

Then again, he was unusually mature for his age...

Azula sat on Appa's head as the bison hovered in midair, waiting for his master and her brother. She smiled with a semblance of relief as she saw Aang's glider emerge from the black smoke.


Sokka stared into the water, watching the wake of his ship as it cut through the sea. He leaned against the balustrade, brooding about the past he had just spilled to his entire crew. It was as if he reopened a painful wound (and not the one on his eye) and it made him think of what could have been. What if he had a loving father, one that respected him as a warrior, a bender, and a man?

He heard footsteps approaching behind him and recognized them as his grandmother's. No, those are just foolish hopes and dreams... the sort of thing only she would think of, Sokka thought to himself.

"You don't have to apologize," Sokka said to the old woman before she could speak, turning his head away from her. "I know what I did. You had nothing to do with it."

"It was all my fault, Sokka," the woman said, her voice full of emotion. "I was the reason why you failed, why you were exiled, why you were shamed. I distracted you during your ice dodging, something I regret to this very day."

"It wasn't your fault, Gran!" He couldn't help the high pitch that came out. "You don't understand. You will never understand. It was my fault and mine alone. Please… just leave me alone."

"Very well, Prince Sokka," she said with a quick bow, backing away from him with her eyes closed.

Sokka turned to look back in the water, reflecting the silvery light of the moon. His grandmother would never understand that he could never blame her for what happened on that day. He may have been distracted when he saw her on that iceberg, but he was far too happy to see her supporting him to care. She was one of the few people that ever did genuinely care for him. And that was what mattered.


Aang and Zuko landed right on Appa as he flew from the volcanic eruption. Zuko immediately started coughing, but he was alive and unhurt. Aang knew he would be fine.

Instead, the young Avatar thought about his airbender friend from the memories, Sangmu. He wondered where she went, who she was, why she did it... The Air Nomads were never people to seek revenge. Did blind rage get in the way of that? Was she long dead now? Probably. All of his people were. Naively, for a short time, he entertained the hope that she could be alive somewhere... but it was impossible.

He turned his thoughts to the reason why he couldn't tell Azula the full truth—where he was from, who she truly was, and how he knew her. He watched her curl up in the saddle to sleep after the long day and decided that he couldn't place that burden on her... Instead, as he always did and hated himself for doing, he ran away from the problem.

One day, he knew, he would have to tell his friends the truth.

And he feared that the day might not be long in coming.