Let me know if you think anyone is OOC, please.
Zuko groaned, rubbing at his eyes. Slowly, he forced himself into a seated position. His body felt awkward, heavy. Bleary-eyed, he glanced around himself. There was a red blob just a few feet away from him. He squinted, and after a moment, his vision came into focus.
It was his uncle, sitting there, turned away from him. His feet were trailing through the water as the little raft-like boat they were sitting on slowly drifted through the sea.
Zuko staggered to his knees, and began to stand-only to teeter sideways and crash onto the floor of the raft. Dull pain flared through the side of his body. He dragged himself back to his knees, swaying slightly. Why did he feel so unbalanced?
He shifted slightly, only to fall forwards onto his hands and knees with a thud. Zuko let out a frustrated breath, looking up at his uncle right as the older man turned to glance behind him.
Iroh's eyes met his and widened. In the blink of an eye, Iroh scrambled over to his nephew, helping him back into a seated position. He guided his nephew backwards, so that Zuko was leaning against the small boat's mast for support.
Zuko frowned, shifting his position slightly. There were these weird bumps that were digging into his back.
There was a moment of silence, where the duo just sat there, staring at each other. Zuko's gaze drifted to the horizon-then back to Iroh.
"Where are we?" he rasped. He frowned, a little surprised at how weak his voice was. It sounded as if he hadn't used it in ages.
"Somewhere in the middle of the ocean, approaching the shores of the earth kingdom."
"And the Avatar?"
"I don't know."
"Does Zhao have him?" Zuko asked, bristling angrily. Iroh shook his head.
"Zhao attacked the moon spirit. He has paid the price."
Zuko nodded, letting out a frustrated huff of air. He stared down at the floor for a long moment before finally turning to Iroh.
"How did I get here?" he inquired, his voice raspy.
"I don't know. I was just losing hope when I turned around-and there you were, lying across from me," Iroh said, frowning. Zuko frowned in return, feeling more than a little confused.
How had he gotten there, then? The last thing he remembered was lying in the snow, cold and alone.
No.
That wasn't right; there was something else that had happened.
And then, like a slap, it hit him. The spirit. His body. The nonsensical rambling, the flash of light-
His head hurt.
He'd been dead, hadn't he? What was going on? He was quite obviously alive now; had that all just been some sort of fever dream?
Still, why didn't he remember returning to his uncle? How had he made it out of the snowy wasteland?
Zuko curled in on himself-as did something large and leathery. He flinched, his gaze flicking to his side. A giant, pitch black dragon wing was curled around him. Zuko grabbed it, yanking it closer to him so he could inspect it-and a flash of pain raced through him. He let out a pained noise, glancing over his shoulder, where the pain was seeming to emanate from.
His eyes widened with horror.
The wing-no, wings, the wings were protruding from his back.
He shot forwards, trying to escape the foreign appendages. The wings flapped wildly, as if an extension of his panic. Iroh scooted away from the massive wings, which had nearly hit him in the face.
Zuko, now on his hands and knees, stared at the floor of the wooden raft, his breathing sharp and shallow with panic. He glanced up at Iroh, terrified. His uncle gazed down at him sadly.
"What's going on?" Zuko demanded, his voice shaky. For a moment, Iroh just sat there, his expression concerned. Zuko's eyes widened frightenedly.
"Uncle!" he snapped. Iroh sighed, shutting his eyes as if pained by what he was about to say next.
"It seems to me that you have been blessed by a spirit, Zuko," Iroh murmured, opening his eyes to peer sadly into Zuko's panicked gaze. Zuko stared down at his hands, his wings clenching in towards his back, mirroring the motion in his fists.
A blessing.
That had been what the rambling spirit had said. He'd told Zuko that he was receiving his blessing, his power.
Had that spirit done this?
What had he done to him?
Zuko sat up awkwardly, his wings dragging behind him. Zuko stared at the gargantuan black appendages, his brow furrowed. Iroh sighed again.
"I will say, I have never seen the effects of such a blessing be so profound."
Zuko glanced over at his uncle, who glanced down at the deck, not meeting Zuko's eyes.
"Every spirit has a mortal counterpart-just one-whether they are a simple dragonfly-bunny spirit or as powerful as the spirit that has bonded with the Avatar. When the mortal dies, they are able to cross temporarily to the mortal world to commune with their destined counterpart and bless the mortal with some form of new life-and, in some cases, incredible power," Iroh murmured.
Zuko was silent for a long moment, his eyes narrowed pensively.
He didn't know much about the spirit realm. His father had thought that such superstition was unfit to be taught to a prince. Uncle Iroh had tried telling him about the spirit realm once before, but Zuko had brushed it off angrily.
It wasn't until he had seen a spirit with his own two eyes that he'd realized, startlingly, that his uncle's foolish beliefs...weren't so foolish. Could he be telling the truth now?
Iroh had to be right.
The memory of his corpse was too vivid to have just been his imagination
"So it wasn't just a dream," he murmured, looking up. "I died."
"Yes," Iroh said quietly, meeting Zuko's gaze with sorrow in his eyes. Zuko bit the inside of his cheek. His stomach felt like it was tying itself into a knot.
He had died.
He had died.
The weight of that realization felt like it was sinking into his bones. His wings curled around him again, and Zuko flinched away from them, shooting a glare at the appendages.
"It is immeasurably fortunate that you returned in the manner that you did. I have known others that were not quite so lucky," Iroh continued, his voice solemn and sad. Zuko froze, then slowly lifted his head to meet his uncle's gaze. There was only one person that Iroh ever spoke of with that tone of voice.
"Lu Ten?" he asked quietly. Iroh froze, then nodded.
"Yes," Iroh sighed. "He was the counterpart of a dragonfly-bunny spirit, one that I met on my journey to the Spirit realm shortly after his death. The spirit assured me that he had done all in his power to resurrect his "chosen," as he put it, but that he had only had the ability to bless him with one new lifetime. Unfortunately, that new life was...not in any way connected to mine."
Iroh shut his eyes, taking a deep breath.
"This is no bond to be taken lightly, Zuko. While the spirits are devoted by their very natures to protect their counterparts, the mortals they imbue with their power are fated to take the place of those spirits if they happen to be killed in the mortal realm."
Zuko blanched. Iroh chuckled.
"Fear not, my nephew. It seems that you have been blessed by a very powerful spirit," Iroh reassured him, nodding to his wings. "There are very few spirits of such power residing within the human world. It is likely that your counterpart is safe in the spirit realm."
Zuko frowned, turning his gaze out to the sea. He was relieved that he likely wouldn't be becoming any sort of freaky spirit any time soon-but it was a lot to take in.
He'd died. Not only had the Avatar left him out in the snow to rot, but he'd died.
He couldn't believe it. He'd actually died out there, alone in the snow. It felt like a fresh punch to the gut every time he thought about it.
But not only had he died out there, he'd come back. He'd come back, but….different. He'd come back wrong, as some sort of winged monster, all thanks to some supernatural connection to some spirit that he could hardly even begin to understand.
He glanced at his wings, feeling the strangest rush of mixed emotions. He felt sick, staring at the enormous, foreign appendages; he felt terrified by the fact that somehow, they were a part of him. It was honestly...horrifying, to just wake up and be greeted by something so unnatural coming out of one's one body.
But what made his skin crawl the most was the miniscule sense of wonder writhing through his chest when he looked upon them. In a strange, bizarre way, they were...beautiful.
Zuko shunted that thought aside, mentally kicking himself. He hated that even just that small part of him didn't find them revolting. It was just...wrong. Everything felt wrong.
His body felt wrong-awkward and heavy in ways that he'd never felt before. He shifted slightly against the mast, and he teetered slightly, listing in the direction of his more open wing.
His skin crawled as he thought of the spirit he'd encountered, his mind drifting to the man's inhuman appearance. Were the wings some side effect of being-what was it Iroh had said-counterparts? Of being "blessed" by the fiery-eyed spirit?
It didn't feel like a blessing.
It just felt...wrong.
It wasn't just the newfound awkwardness and clunkiness of his body, of his wings.
There was a strange twinge in his chest, a strange hum in his bones. Something was off, in a way that he just couldn't put his finger on.
And it scared him.
"Has it been done?" Arnook asked, looking up from the scroll he was reading.
"Yes," Master Paku replied, kneeling before the king. Arnook sighed, relieved, setting the scroll down.
"Good. Now that he has been destroyed, we may proceed with hunting for his counterpart. Such power cannot be unleashed upon the world unchecked."
"May La guide her chosen well," Paku said, bowing his head to the younger man. Arnook nodded curtly.
"For the sake of the world-I pray she does."