Chapter 24: The End of The Energybender
Sen's motionlessness had been pleasant, even convenient, at the beginning, but the longer it went on, the more uncomfortable Tlun felt. He poked, prodded, tested, but the Avatar never reacted. Tlun had seen cadavers more reactive than Sen's current state. The fact that he was sitting upright and taking slow, shallow breaths were the only clue he was still alive.
A deep, meditative trance had occupied most of Sen's time since his return from the desert. His request for Tlun to examine and treat his injuries over the next three days had been the last thing he'd said before slipping into what Tlun could best describe as a self-induced coma.
Whatever the nature of Sen's restful state, it was doing wonders for his healing. Tlun's efforts proved minor compared to the restorative powers of Sen's meditation. Bruises, cuts, and broken bones had healed completely over the course of just a couple days. Oddly enough, the slight cut over Sen's eye, the mark of Sarin's last strike, was not so easily healed. The cut remained, and, despite Tlun's best efforts, would likely leave a scar.
The small cut had already been thoroughly treated and bandaged, leaving Tlun with little else to do but prod Sen's other injuries. They had mostly vanished, but injuries that extensive always left a few lingering aches and pains. Sen would be mildly uncomfortable, but otherwise in perfect health.
Tlun checked the nearby clock. In a matter of seconds it would exactly three days since Sen had entered his meditation. He showed no signs of waking just yet. Tlun took a few steps back. He wasn't exactly sure why.
The clock struck the very minute Sen had fallen into his sleep, and just like that, he awoke once more. Not disoriented in the slightest, Sen stretched out his limbs, stood up, and yawned. Tlun stepped forward again.
"Good morning, Avatar," Tlun said. "You've had quite a nap."
"I had some things to work out," Sen joked idly. He stretched out his right arm and flexed his fingers, pleasantly surprised at how good he felt. "Got my soul sorted out, mostly. How's my body doing?"
"Astonishingly well," Tlun said. "I didn't believe you'd be ready to move in just three days, but here you are."
"Be honest with me, Tlun," Sen said. "If I need more rest just tell me so."
"I am nothing but honest," Tlun said, offended. "You are in perfect health."
Sen tried to hide his slight frown. Perhaps he had been expecting a reason to stay behind just a little longer. Tlun shook his head. The chaos had gone on long enough. It was time for Sen to restore the balance.
"You should get moving," Tlun said. "People are waiting on you."
"I know, I just-"
"I meant that literally, Sen. There's people lined up outside and everything. We told them you'd be waking up today."
"Oh, right," Sen said. He nodded awkwardly and turned around to head out the door. Tlun followed him and directed him to a small side-room further down the hall.
"The whole world is watching," Tlun advised. "You should be properly dressed."
The thin, ragged garments Sen wore now were hardly befitting a hero on his way to vanquish the enemy. Sen stepped in to the side room while Tlun carried on. There was no massive wardrobe to be found, rather a single neatly-folded outfit with a single pair of glasses resting atop it. A simple shirt and trousers fit him rather nicely, and Sen took a moment before putting on the glasses.
The glass lenses found their place over his eyes, and the world came back into a sharp focus. He had learned enough that he didn't need the glasses quite as much anymore, but they still helped him to focus. The world became clearer when he had them on. Sen nodded, looked at the world around him for a moment, and headed out, still feeling somewhat under-dressed for reasons he didn't completely understand.
The answer to his dilemma came as he walked out the hallways towards the exit and found Detective Zas holding out a paper-wrapped parcel. The Detective swiftly handed over the package to Sen as he approached. It had the weight and feel of fabric.
"I took the liberty of calling your tailor," Zas said playfully. "I believe this might suit you a little better than your last coat."
Sen unwrapped the brown paper, finding, to no surprise whatsoever, a brown longcoat. Sen took it out and put it on, finding it fit perfectly. Zas nodded to a nearby mirror as Sen finished buttoning the coat. It was a far better fit for Sen's frame. While it would be a disservice to call him scrawny, Sen wasn't exactly muscular either. His last coat had been made with wide shoulders and broad chest to mimic muscles Sen didn't have. This one was more suited to his slender frame, a more honest representation of himself.
"I have been right quite a bit," Zas said. "But I have never been more right than the day I said a brown coat would suit you."
Sen ran a hand along the fabric and looked himself over. He looked –and felt –right again. He nodded slowly.
"Thank you, Zas," Sen said. "For understanding me so well."
"You're simpler than you think, Sen," Zas said. He rested a hand on Sen's shoulder. Sen smiled. As smart as Zas was, he often underestimated how much he meant to Sen. The Detective had been the first person to come to Sen because of his own talents. Zas had sought Sen out; not for being the Avatar, but for being clever, not for the hero he'd been born as but for the man he'd become. It filled him with pride to be recognized for his own merits, not his birthright.
"Good luck, Detective, and be quick about it," Zas instructed as he pushed Sen towards the door. "We'll expect you back soon."
"Goodbye, Zas," Sen said with a smile. "I'll see you soon."
With his looks in order, Sen headed out to face the world. The fluorescent lights of the hospital halls gave way to a dim orange light. The sun was setting over the mountaintops, painting the sky above the Republic in a variety of colors.
The sky below erupted in a white flash the moment Sen stepped through the doors. A thousand cameras ignited at once, all attempting to capture what they believed would be an iconic moment. Sen ignored their flashing lights. It would be easy to mischaracterize them as nosy paparazzi. They all cared, in their own way, about what was happening here today.
Sen moved past the crowd easily –a path was cleared for him the moment he stepped forward. They had been expecting his arrival and prepared accordingly. The portal was not far from the hospital, but they wanted him to arrive as quickly as possible. Tlun's sentiment was shared across the world: it was time for this to end.
The path was lined with former soldiers of the Coalition, holding the crowd at bay and saluting sharply. Sen acknowledged their show of respect but did not slow his pace. What was left of the White Lotus likewise lined the path, with Master Jung at their helm. The order had been through much, but they would endure, as they ever did. The ideals they stood for were eternal –in one form or another, there would always be a White Lotus.
Interrupting the stoic lineup of the White Lotus, as was her penchant, was Whistler. She pushed her way past her former master, offering some kind of snarky insult as she did so, and stood at Sen's side if he walked.
"Hey Sen," She said. "Heck of a nap you just took."
"I needed some time to heal," Sen said. "Inside and out."
"Yeah, sounds serious," Whistler said. She made sure to acknowledge his troubles while also clarifying she was completely incapable of talking about them in a meaningful manner. Instead she held out her hand.
"You've been asleep for three days," She said. "You want a snack?"
He was in fact quite hungry, so he took some of what Whistler offered as he walked towards the Spirit Portal. The thought of the journey ahead occupied his thoughts, but one wayward notion managed to slip through as he chewed in Whistler's snacks.
"Whistler, what exactly are these?"
"No clue," She said as she ate another. "But there's a guy on Roku Street who sells them for two yuan a pound."
"That's quite a deal," Sen said, as he also ate another. Whistler nodded.
The two of them continued eating and walking in silence until they reached the very edge of the crater. The green beam of light that marked the entrance to the Spirit World soared into the sky above, painting the red hues of the setting sun with a verdant green light. Whistler and Sen paused.
"Rest of the guys are all waiting up ahead," Whistler said.
"Why aren't you with them, by the way?"
"Wanted a little privacy," Whistler said awkwardly. She turned to Sen slowly. "I'm about to say something with some actual emotion and I didn't want any of the other guys to hear."
Sen raised an eyebrow. This was going to be good.
"There's about a million ways I could put this, and about all of them are some stupid sentimental thing, but I just want you to know," Whistler said, not looking Sen in the eye. "I'd come with you, if you asked. I know you don't need me, I know maybe you don't even want me, but…I want to be where you are. My life is better with you in it."
Sen spared Whistler the trouble of further sentimentality by interrupting her. The renegade was quite upset to find herself being grabbed and held in a solid embrace. Her first instinct was to punch someone, but she restrained herself when she realized it was Sen holding on to her. She hesitated, and then for just a moment she reached out and put her arms around him in turn. But only for a moment.
Whistler forcibly pushed herself out of Sen's grip, stepped away, and punched him solidly in the arm. Feigning indignation, she turned her back on him and walked out, but Sen knew it was all an act. He smiled to himself and proceeded forward into the crater.
The vines and ruins filling the crater around the Spirit Portal were abuzz with energy. The vines that grew here were connected to the vast web of life that connected all things. He could feel the pulse of the world pounding through them. The world itself was excited, nervous, tense, feeling many things with the advent of Sen and Sarin's final confrontation. Sen brushed his hand along a vine, and his own calm aura pulsed through the veins of the world, soothing the restless energy.
At the center of the crater, near the glowing circle of light that bridged the worlds, stood a few of Sen's closest friends. The first to cross his path was Ada, holding a small pack of supplies.
"Everything you need to get you there and back," Ada said, handing him the bag. "Except, of course, a trusty blade at your side."
"I'm going alone, Ada, we talked about this," Sen said firmly.
"And for all our talking, I never agreed to that," Ada countered. "None of us came all this way to leave you at the very end."
"You're going to handle retirement very poorly, you know that?" Sen joked. He nodded at Canto, lurking behind Ada, and Canto nodded awkwardly back. Ada's beau was still not entirely sure he belonged here.
"Stay out of the fight for once. Spend some time with Canto," Sen advised. "Try to remember the reason we fight-"
"-Is so we can stop fighting," Ada concluded. "I know. That's why I want to go this time. You know me, I'm going to keep fighting no matter what. I'll find something else to use my sword for soon enough."
Ada stepped forward and reached up to put a hand on Sen's shoulder.
"But you aren't meant for that. You're meant for better things," She said. "I want to help you fight, so you can stop fighting."
Sen reached to his shoulder and wrapped his hands around Ada's, pulling it away from his shoulder, but not releasing it quite yet.
"This one's my fight," Sen said. "I think you're right. When this is all over I'd like to avoid violence for a while. But this time, this battle –I want to fight this. I have to fight it. I know you understand that."
Ada frowned, remembering her own pursuit of Ko Rin. She had attempted to do it alone, and paid a price for it. But she had done so out of a cold mix of paranoia and anger. Looking in Sen's face, she saw neither of those things. In his eyes was written a righteous determination and nothing more. Almost nothing. Behind his courage there was only the slightest note of a bitter pity –a pity Ada did not quite understand.
She pushed him away slightly.
"Well, go on then," She said. "Fight your fight."
Sen nodded and moved on. There was a bit more to be said yet, to a few more people. Ariak had likely been helping Ada prepare Sen's supplies, given how close he was. Or perhaps he simply wished to be one of the first to speak with Sen, though not quite the first.
"Sen, I should apologize," Ariak began.
"No you shouldn't," Sen interrupted quickly. He extended his hand. "You saw me doing something wrong and you fought against it. I think it's the responsibility of good friends to call each other out on their mistakes."
Ariak smiled slightly and took Sen's outstretched hand, gripping it firmly. The last time he had questioned authority had gone much worse. He was glad to see his friendship with Sen was stronger than his relationship with his estranged father.
"Just as it's our duty to quickly forgive when those mistakes are corrected," Ariak said. "And for what it's worth, I have no doubts about your current course."
"That is a lie," Sen said flatly.
"Yes, I suppose it is," Ariak admitted. He, and most of the others, were worried. Sen understood it well. Lately he had given them reason to doubt. He hoped he would soon prove them wrong. "You know we'd all follow you if you'd let us."
"And that's part of why I need you to stay," Sen said cryptically. He released Ariak's hand and gripped his shoulder briefly before moving on. He quickly found himself face to face with a large wall of black metal.
"If you're not taking the rest of us, you should at least take this," Suda said, offering his shield. "I'm not using it much and you never know when you need a giant invincible shield."
"Suda I could hardly lift this," Sen said, pushing the shield aside. "Besides, I'm not exactly going to be throwing punches with a spirit."
"Right, Spirit World stuff," Suda said, cringing slightly. He'd always hated the Spirit World. The thought that a spirit could live after death in that realm made him hate it even more. Despite that, he'd still follow Sen into the depths of the Spirit World if he asked.
"I'm just worried about you, Sen," Suda admitted. He then tried to cover his emotions with a joke. "I mean if you get killed I'm going to have to name my kid after you, and what if it's a girl, Sen is a terrible name for a girl!"
Sen laughed, more at Suda's overbearing concern than at his joke. Sen reached out and gave Suda a sarcastic pat on the shoulder to 'calm' him.
"It'll be alright, Suda, I'll stay safe and you can name your child whatever you want," Sen promised him. Suda sighed deeply, letting his real emotions shine through again. Sen braced himself. He knew what was coming.
The massive, muscular arms of Suda reached out and wrapped Sen up in a disconcertingly powerful bear hug. He squirmed slightly, found himself mostly unable to move, and gave up. Suda acknowledged that he was slightly crushing the Avatar and put him down quickly enough.
"I'm holding you to that," Suda said. "And try to make it quick. I want you here to welcome the little one to the world."
"I'll try my best," Sen promised, and then he moved forward again.
The closest and last stop on the path to the Spirit Portal was watched over by Miyani. She relaxed against a large chunk of wall that had once made up someone's home, long ago. Unlike the others, she did not step forward as Sen approached.
"Miyani," Sen said flatly.
"Sen," Miyani said with equal flatness. Sen paused and watched her for a beat. Miyani was always difficult to read, but she seemed almost too casual now. The others had been very transparent in their worries and concern. He felt no such doubt from Miyani.
"You don't have anything to say?"
"Nothing I can't say when you get back," Miyani said. She turned away from Sen to look over the crowd that was watching them from afar.
"You really aren't nervous at all? Not going to offer to follow me into the Spirit World? You're not even going to wish me luck?"
Now Miyani finally paid full attention to Sen, stepping forward to look him in the eyes. She walked forward until they were face to face and rested a hand on his right cheek, her thumb resting just a hairs breadth away from the rough cut on his eyebrow.
"You don't need luck," She said, echoing words Sen had spoken to her once, long ago. "You're the Avatar."
She stepped away, letting go of his face, and gave him a smile as warm as the summer sun. In that moment Sen finally understood her. It had been this way since that fateful day on Hayao's island, when Sen had first spoken those words to her. Sen had asked for her trust, and she had given it, completely, unconditionally, for all time. For all the years they'd spent separated, for all the months Sen had been sinking deeper and deeper into his own anger, Miyani had never doubted him once. She never would.
Miyani took another step back, and found she could go no further. As she pulled away, Sen had grabbed on to her by the hand, holding it tightly as he looked up at her. Miyani glanced at her hand and then looked back at him. Her faint smile brightened just a little bit more, and she gripped his hand tightly as their eyes met. The look on his face was not yet a smile, but a simple look of contentment, as if he was exactly where he wanted to be.
But Miyani felt a cold chill run through Sen's blood as reality sank in. Where Sen wanted to be and where he needed to be were two very different places. Sen regretfully released his grip on Miyani's hand and turned away, towards the gateway between worlds. Miyani cast her eyes downwards as Sen departed.
The Avatar stood to face the glowing pillar of light. He spared one last glance over his shoulder, to look at the people, the world, that had gathered to see him off. He turned away from it all at last and stepped forward. One world faded into another as he crossed the planes.
The familiar vistas of oddly colored flora and strange terrain gradually came into view. Sen paused a moment to look around and take in the scenery before he spun to the side to grab the person sneaking up on him.
"Not today," he declared firmly, picking Hanjo up and slamming him against the ground. Hanjo's attempted tackle came to a disastrous end as Sen pinned him against the soil.
"Come on," Hanjo said indignantly. "I exploited interplanar boundaries and I still can't sneak up on you?"
"You forgot one important thing," Sen said. In a puff of dirt and with a loud huff, Gun's head popped out of the ground in front of Hanjo. "I have a spy."
Hanjo glared angrily into Gun's blind eyes. Sen had been suspicious the moment he'd not seen Hanjo gathered with the others. No way he'd leave Sen alone on a day like this. A simple scouting mission from Gun had confirmed Sen's suspicions.
"You betrayed me," he said. Gun snorted and retreated into the soil of the Spirit World. With his defeat solidified, Sen released Hanjo and let him stand upright and shake the dirt off. He continued to complain as he cleaned himself off.
"I still don't understand how he does that," Hanjo moaned. Gun emerged completely from the soil and sat down on the ground, examining his two masters.
"I doubt we'll ever understand him," Sen said, running a hand across Gun's fur. Over all the years Gun had served as Animal Guide, only two things had become apparent. He was a bit feisty, and he was unfailingly, unflinchingly devoted to his friends. Gun had followed Sen across miles, across oceans, and across worlds. Though Sen was often forced to neglect Gun when faced with his other duties, Gun never failed to appear when Sen needed him. Sen continued to stroke the badgermole's bristled fur as Hanjo continued.
"Well, I was going to use the whole surprise attack element as a segue," Hanjo whined. "Now I kind of don't know where to start."
"I do," Sen said. "I'm sorry."
Hanjo had been trying to keep the mood light, but Sen had gone and thrown that all out the window. Apparently they were going to be serious today.
"I screwed up," Sen admitted. "I did so many things wrong, and I ignored so many problems, and you had every right to hate me-"
"I never hated you, Sen," Hanjo corrected. "I was just afraid you'd lost your way."
"I know you didn't, I'm just saying," Sen said awkwardly. "I know I let you down. I should have been better. Not just in the way I acted with the war…with the way I acted with you."
Sen crossed his arms and looked down in shame. Hanjo shook his head. Sen had been a jerk, yeah, but it was nothing unforgivable. Still, he would let Sen vent. He'd feel better afterwards.
"I never thanked you, did I?" Sen asked. Hanjo had not been expecting him to take that angle. "For what you taught me."
"What, for the handful of earthbending lessons?"
"Well yes, those," Sen said with a slight chuckle. "But, not what I meant. Something a lot more important."
Sen stepped forward and put both hands on Hanjo's shoulders, gripping them firmly.
"The day we met, all the way back at Beaker Hall, when you fought those bandits," Sen said solemnly. "That was the day I realized, maybe fighting was better than hiding. Watching you, I learned how to be brave, how to face life's problems."
Sen continued to surprise Hanjo by stepping forward and moving his arms off Hanjo's shoulder and around his back, grabbing him in a tight embrace.
"You taught me courage," Sen mumbled. "And that's the most important thing I could ever learn. Everything I've done since then, everything I have, everything I am…is all because of you."
The magnitude of that statement struck Hanjo silent. The tone of Sen's voice made his meaning very clear. When he said everything, he meant it –all the power he had, all the incredible things he'd done, all of his friends –he thanked Hanjo for all of that. Hanjo wasn't sure he deserved that kind of gratitude.
"I don't think I can ever thank you enough," Sen continued. He released Hanjo from the tight hug and stepped back, looking him in the eyes. "But I'm going to try. I love you, Hanjo. And I will never let you down again."
Hanjo found the moment enjoyable –but also somewhat awkward. He had things he'd rather be doing than listening to Sen be heartwarming. Hanjo pulled his hand away and stomped his foot, calling to Gun, who quickly placed himself between his two favorite people.
"Alright, yes, much appreciated," Hanjo said. "Now what say the three of us get going to that Undying Bloom place."
Gun and Hanjo stood waiting for Sen to join them. The Avatar turned his eyes out to the depths of the Spirit World, towards the Bloom, and shook his head.
"No," He said firmly. He had said it to all the others, and he would say it to Hanjo as well. "I do this alone."
"Sen, I know, you've got a lot of good reasons to want to work alone," Hanjo said. "But come on, it's us. You, me, and Gun. It started with us working together. That's how it should end."
Sen took a step away, towards the Undying Bloom. He faced the vast expanse between himself and his final battle briefly before turning back to Hanjo.
"Things shouldn't end the way they started," Sen began solemnly. He looked into Hanjo's eyes and then turned away. "I've been through too much, learned too much, to think that. I needed you once, just like I needed Ada, Suda, Whistler…All of you. But I don't need you anymore."
Sen stood up straight, squared his shoulders, and looked Hanjo in the eye without flinching.
"The seven of us-"
Gun huffed impatiently. Sen smiled slightly.
"The eight of us," Sen corrected. "Will always be a team, and we'll always be a family. But we're also individuals. We need to be able to stand on our own. I believe that the rest of you are strong enough to do that."
Sen trailed off slightly and ran a finger along the rough scab across his eye where Sarin had cut him.
"But I don't know that about myself," He admitted. "Not any more. Not after what I've done."
Sen removed his hands from his face and held them at his waist. He had let his anger consume, let his rage blind him to what was really important in life. He had faced one of life's most important tests –and failed. He had put hate before love, and let his heart and mind be ruled by someone else's actions.
"I need to do this on my own," Sen said. "So that I can believe in myself as much as the rest of you believe in me."
Hanjo bit his lip. He didn't want to admit it, but Sen made sense. He'd lost faith in himself, and that was a horrible thing to go through. Hanjo didn't see any reason he shouldn't have faith in himself, though.
"Come on, Sen, you're the Avatar," Hanjo said. "We all know you could do this alone, even you know that. Just a few seconds of those glowing eyes should be enough to-"
There was an odd twitch to Sen's features as Hanjo spoke that gave Hanjo pause. He interrupted himself mid-sentence and examined Sen's face for a time. Sen had always been bad at lying. Something was wrong.
"You do –you've been meditating for a long time, you have to have-"
Hanjo pointed at his eyes, indicating the burning white light of the Avatar State's power. Sen lowered his head and shook it quietly.
"I haven't tried," Sen admitted. "I don't want to."
"Sen, this is the end, you can't just cripple yourself because you feel bad! What if you can't- what if Sarin," Hanjo flailed for a moment to find the right words. He couldn't let Sen continue like this. Sen saw things quite differently.
"When I said I would do this alone, I meant it," Sen said defiantly. "Not with you, not with Miyani, not with Suda, Ariak, or anyone else, not even Korra and Raava!"
In three days of meditation Sen had never bothered reaching out to the light he was connected to. He had never cared to. His first concern, his only concern, had been himself.
"This is my last challenge," Sen said solemnly. "If I can't overcome it as myself –with my own strength, with my own will- then I don't deserve the victory. I will win, Hanjo, I promise you. But I need to win as myself."
Hanjo grit his teeth. Sen was being too stubborn. All Hanjo could think about were the risks –he didn't want to lose his best friend, not to something so foolish.
But Sen had promised to win, and he'd promised never to disappoint Hanjo again. Breaking a promise would be a fine disappointment. Hanjo managed to crack a wry smile.
"Alright fine," Hanjo said reluctantly. "Go. But make it quick."
With a quiet nod and a quick turn on his heel, Sen turned back to face his destination and his destiny.
The weeks passed by in solitude. The journey was long, quiet, and lonesome only growing worse in every respect as Sen approached the Undying Bloom. The forest was as quiet as the grave.
Light burned from every branch in a storm of luminescence. Sen did not avert his eyes. No light without was brighter than the light he carried within. He kept his eyes forward, planted on the massive dead tree at the center of it all.
His course never wavered and his feet did not falter. He moved without hesitation towards his goal. The silence of the forest was chilling to the core. Despite their abundant leaves, the trees seemed dry and lifeless. A sickening chill pervaded the air, trying to consume Sen in its cold grasp.
He remembered this feeling all too well. He had lived steeped in it for years. The orphanage that had imprisoned him with its cold, uncaring darkness had felt the same way. It was a feeling impossible to describe, for it was itself void. Emptiness. The absence of hope, of purpose, of life. No amount of light could ever fill such an abominable darkness.
The lights dimmed. The trees grew sparse. The center of the forest stood ahead. Sen did not falter.
His unwavering pace led him to the heart of it all, and Sen stepped forward, his march finally ceasing as he laid eyes on his quarry.
Sarin stood, unmoving, his ethereal form still and quiet as he stared back at the Avatar with one eye. His cyclopean gaze was unblinking, his chest unmoving without breath through his lungs. There was not even a heartbeat beneath his ghostly skin. Sarin was still, and cold, his one remaining hand clenched in a tight fist.
Motion finally came in the form a twisting circle of darkness and light. With slow, predatory movements, the black beast and the great tiger encircled Sen, keeping their distance but making it clear they had him right where they wanted him –or so they believed.
Sen turned first to the Mind-Eater, the shadow of ignorance that lived in the dark places of the human spirit. Its belly was still torn and ragged, bleeding black ichor from its gullet, the mark of its battle with Miyani. There was anger in its cold blue eyes: it sought vengeance. Four jaws flexed hungrily as it observed the Avatar with its night-black face. Soon, it believed, it would be all-powerful. The death of the Avatar would birth an age of ignorance and despair, ample feeding ground for the Hssk.
He turned his attention to the massive tiger. Contradictory elements shifted as the gargantuan ta Jide Shui encircled him. Massive paws both stone and mist padded the ground, sharp claws bared. There was anger in its eyes, but also desperation. It was a prisoner in life, longing for a freedom it thought only death could bring. For a thousand lifetimes it had lived, condemned to the prison of this dead tree, unable to die or even forget its own ceaseless existence. The death of the Avatar could finally bring it peace.
At last the Avatar turned his eyes back to Sarin, the black emptiness, the root of all this age's suffering. He stared forward unblinkingly at the Avatar, his purpose, his destiny, his sole reason for being.
"You are surrounded," Sarin observed, finally breaking the silence.
"You cannot surround me any more than the air can," Sen said in reply. He turned his eyes between the three of them. "You are empty. Immaterial."
Sen planted his feet and stood in defiance of them, and the terror they tried to impress upon them. His body was still and his heartbeat steady –he would show no fear. The circling of the twin spirits of black and white paused, and they rested on either side of Sarin. Sen could sense the connection between the three, the shared bond that empowered them. Sarin believed the bond made him invincible. Sen knew otherwise. It was simple mathematics. Nothing added to nothing was still nothing.
"You," He said, turning to the Hssk. The black beast faltered slightly under his gaze.
"You cannot see your own ignorance. For all the knowledge you take, you do not learn, do not think what the future may hold," Sen said. He pointed at the shadowy blackness of the Hssk accusingly. "You think that by removing ambition, curiosity, the desire to learn, you will make yourself immortal."
Sen had always sought knowledge, searched for greater wisdom and greater purpose. That quest had made him ever more aware of his own foolishness –a perilous dichotomy the Hssk did not understand.
"Ignorance exists only because of those who have curiosity," Sen said. "Without that drive to learn more, we would sit complacent, unaware of our foolishness. Victory here will not make you stronger, Hssk, it will destroy you. Curiosity is what birthed you and sustains you. You will die without it."
The shadow of the Hssk's body twitched slightly as it absorbed Sen's words. Just as light cast shadows, only knowledge could illuminate the empty spaces of thought. The Hssk's ignorance was a mere shadow of the greater light of wisdom.
But it was ignorance, only able to steal the wisdom of others, not learn it. Sen's words meant nothing to the Hssk. It persisted in its self-destructive path. Sen nodded, as he had never expected a different outcome. The Hssk was unable to change its course.
"And you," Sen said, turning his attention to the mighty form of Ta Jide Shui. The tiger of stone and mist was far more defiant in his rage against the Avatar.
"Do not proselytize to me, Raava," The tiger growled. His fangs bared in a vicious snarl. "You and your kind laid out this world, defined my purpose. You imprisoned me in this place, condemned me to this suffering!"
Sen endured the roaring rage of the Ta Jide Shui. It eventually calmed, and Sen continued.
"You are a prisoner of no one's accord but your own," Sen said. "You have lived here for a thousand lifetimes, never forgetting your own suffering, but you never thought to see beyond what was laid out for you."
The Avatar held out his hands briefly, focusing on the soil around him.
"In ancient times you were bound to the roots of this tree," Sen said. That much was true. The ancient spirits had 'imprisoned' the Ta Jide Shui. "They gave you a purpose. But it was your own foolishness that made it a prison."
Sen swept his hand aside, casting aside the dirt below his feet. With the soil torn aside, the roots of the ancient dead tree stretched outwards visible to all, stretching to the edge of Ta Jide Shui's eternal prison –and then stretching further.
The tree roots entangled and grew together, joining as not a thousand lives but a single living thing. The roots spread far and wide, never separating, extending for miles in every direction, growing throughout the Undying Bloom and beyond. All life was connected. These same roots pierced soil and stone throughout the Spirit World, entangling even the roots of the Tree of Time that bound the planes, and growing into the mortal world in turn. Ta Jide Shui had been bound to the roots, yes, but they were no prison. Only a test, a test he had failed.
"No," The great tiger gasped desperately. The truth was laid bare before him now. A thousand lifetimes he had wasted, laboring under his own delusion.
"You," He growled, his eyes turning away from the truth and towards Sen. "You deceived me! You did this!"
Sen shook his head, but offered no further explanation. No matter how much was shown to him, the great tiger would not see. He had no one to blame but himself, but he was unwilling to see that.
"Sarin," Sen continued. He looked up at his lifelong nemesis, without anger, without pity, but only with understanding. "The lesser of both. Unable and unwilling to change."
Sarin was silent. Sarin stood face to face with his destiny and did nothing. He would never get a chance better than this. He had all the power, all the opportunity he would ever have, and yet he did nothing. Sen understood why.
"For so long I saw the black void that consumes you and thought it was a shield, some defense or trick to obscure you," Sen said. His voice was tinged by pity, not malice. "But it isn't. The blackness I see isn't a shield. It's you."
Even now he could see the emptiness in the world where Sarin stood. The abyssal blackness of Sarin's empty soul drew in the light and warmth around him, leaving behind only the hollow nothingness that Sarin himself felt inside.
"You were born, raised, and trained for one purpose," Sen continued. "The destiny your family gave you was all you had. You were never brave enough to seek anything else, to question your course, to be more than what others tried to make you! Look at yourself, Sarin! Even now you still cling to the way others shaped you!"
In this world Sarin was as a spirit, but he still clung to the form he'd worn in the physical world. He could be anything, his ideal self, but he still bore the old scars, the burned out eye, the short stub of a severed arm, every cut, scrape, and bruise Sen had given him. His form, as his spirit, was decided entirely by what others had done to him.
Sen stepped forward now, his shoulders squared and his fists clenched. He bit his tongue for a moment as his eyes focused on Sarin. He spoke accusingly, but his voice faltered. He knew he was guilty of the same crimes, in his own way. Sarin likewise changed his stance, anger twisting his form.
"You clung to that destiny, never daring to look away from it for even a moment. You defended it at any costs. It never mattered what you had to consume or sacrifice, not your enemies, not your friends-"
Sen paused and planted his feet, staring Sarin in his one eye.
"Not your family."
Sarin's broken spirit form took a single step back.
"You know nothing," He spat.
"I know everything!"
He had no real evidence, and yet he had never been more certain. For months he had wondered what had become of Kalden, of the first energybender, Sarin's older brother. It had only taken one look into the blackness of Sarin's soul to finally put the broken pieces together.
"Kalden was controlling, he never really wanted to pass the power or leadership on to you," Sen continued. He proceeded forwards towards Sarin. Sarin held out his hands and drew on the power his spirit allies offered. The twin spirits of black and white began to fade as Sarin parasitized their power.
"He knew the powers they offered could heal him," Sen said. The Ta Jide Shui and the Hssk circled ever closer around Sen as he grew closer and closer to Sarin. "He knew with their help that he wouldn't have to give over his destiny to you."
The bonded souls of spirit and man could accomplish great things –even restore a soul withered by Energybending. He could feel the echoes of that long ago moment in this place. He could nearly hear Kalden bargaining with Ta Jide Shui and the Hssk –just as he could hear Sarin interrupt.
"But you couldn't lose your destiny," Sen said venomously.
"Be quiet," Sarin demanded harshly. He drew further on the power of his spirit allies, consuming them nearly entirely. Shrill, fierce howling filled the air.
"You couldn't see any other path," Sen said. "You knew that without their power, your life was meaningless! If you could not devote it to destroying me then your life was nothing! You couldn't, you didn't, let Kalden take the power for his own. Because you had no other purpose in life, you did the unthinkable-"
"Shut up!" Sarin shouted. Sen was only a few steps away now. Sarin drew on the fullness of the power available to him, draining anything, everything. The black hollow of Sarin's soul was a void that drew in all around it –even his closest allies. The Hssk was consumed, cursing in arcane tongues as he was destroyed, as was the Ta Jide Shui, breathing a sigh of relief as oblivion overtook him. The howling grew louder and louder as Sarin drew on more and more, unwinding the world around him in search of more power.
Sarin turned his all-consuming hunger on life itself, and the white forest began to wither and die. Death and decay spread throughout the forest, turning that which had once been blindingly beautiful into a dark, dead waste. The full breadth of existence was tugged towards Sarin's empty soul as Sen took his final step forward. The howling rose ever further, drowning out all sound, and yet even against this arcane cacophony Sen managed one final defiant shout.
"You killed your brother!"
With a loud scream, Sarin lunged forward. The full weight of three souls, all the power he had gathered, coalesced into a single grey light, furious yet small. That terrible orb of gray pain howled as it travelled, and struck against Sen's soul like a hammer.
No amount of light or power could fill a bottomless abyss. Sarin struck like a hammer indeed –a hammer of glass against a mountainside. Hollow and fragile, Sarin's willpower broke against the implacable fullness of Sen's heart.
The howling stopped, quiet resumed. The grey glow shattered and broke into a thousand fragments of light, scattering into myriad colors as the energy dissipated. Beams of light danced amidst the dead branches that had once contained them as Sarin's stolen power flittered away.
Amidst the scattered remnants of his own self, a single sliver of the Energybender remained, a tenuous fragment of a soul, clinging to existence by a thread. Barely alive, barely cognizant, the fragment of a hollow soul drifted backwards, coming to rest at the dead roots of the great tree behind him. The hollow fragment of a man landed amidst a world equally lifeless.
The last fragments of light, sound, and life, left the world around him. The Undying Bloom, once a place of infinite light, became a horrifying, all-consuming dark. In the midst of the lifeless forest there was only one light.
Above Sarin, tall and unmoved, untouched by the full weight of Sarin's rage, Sen stood. His eyes glowed, the only light in the darkened abyss where they now stood. But it was not the harsh light of the Avatar, no blinding white glow. It was softer, sharper, a keen glimmer in the green eyes that hid behind glass lenses. It was a light all Sen's own. A light slightly darkened by the pity he felt.
"It was always going to end this way," He said. "Ever since that first day in the orphanage. I gained the courage to be more."
Sen closed his eyes. Despite himself, tears welled up in his eyes. There was still anger in him, but consuming that rage, overpowering it, was a deep, abiding sadness. He understood the emptiness Sarin had inside him. In spite of everything Sarin had done, Sen felt sympathy for him.
"I almost lost that," Sen explained. "I let myself be blinded by the anger I felt towards you. I hated you for what you did, the lives you took. You destroyed so much that I cared about, you filled my life with so much fear, you nearly took Hanjo from me…"
Sen rubbed a hand against his eyes to wipe away the few tears he shed. He kneeled down on the ground to put himself level with Sarin, looking the fading spirit in his one eye.
"But I forgot –I never understood," Sen said correcting himself. "That without you I might never have met him."
Sarin had destroyed so much, and put Sen through more pain in just a few years than most people felt in a lifetime. It was because of Sarin that Sen had spent years condemned to the bleak orphanage –but it was there he had met his best friend.
"If you'd never taken Hanjo, I would've never met Miyani. The announcement you made that day in Republic City, it guided me to Whistler. The horrors you created, the pain you caused…it put the pieces together, guided me to Suda, Ada, Ariak, all of them. And they're happier because of it. So am I."
Together they had come so far, accomplished so much. Together they had learned patience, friendship, virtue, love, understanding –but all of that had arisen from the pain, the fear, the anger.
"I will not be so blind again," Sen explained. "This is my life, and my choices to make. I choose to accept the bad, and embrace the good."
He looked once more at Sarin, with a faint, melancholy smile on his face.
"I choose to be happy."
Sen stood, tall and proud, unburdened by hatred, fear, regret, or sorrow. These things would try to hunt him for the rest of his life. They would fail. He was strong enough to choose the course of his own life, and if that strength ever failed, his friends would be there to correct his course.
"I wish that was a choice you could make," Sen said pitifully. Sarin still looked up at him from the base of the tree. Bitter anger marked his one fading eye.
"Don't mock me," his faint spirit choked out. "End it."
Sen closed his eyes, bowed his head, and shook it sadly. Even here at the end of all things, at the end of his own life, he could not, would not understand. All Sarin would ever have was his purpose. His only reason for being was to kill the Avatar –or die trying. Sen pitied his blindness.
"If you want an end, Sarin, then for once in your life, be your own man," Sen began.
With that said, the Avatar turned his back on the Energybender. He did not look over his shoulder. Sen would never again lay eyes on the pitiable emptiness of Sarin.
"Do it yourself."
He walked away, without another word spared for the man who had once consumed his life. Sarin watched the Avatar walk away, abandoning the battle that had been Sarin's entire life. Slowly, horribly, as the Avatar vanished amidst the dead trees of the forest that had once been undying, Sarin realized the truth.
The Avatar was gone. There would be no final battle, no great destiny. Sarin had consumed a thousand lives, innocents, his own allies, his own brother, in the pursuit of a goal that was impossible and always had been. His will, his purpose, his very existence, was entirely meaningless.
From the depths of that dead forest came a scream, a scream unlike any that had been heard in any world. It echoed across the Spirit World, echoing dimly in the faintest regions, miles and miles away, and yet it carried no weight. Within the scream there was no rage, no pain, no despair -it was noise, and nothing more.
And then, it was nothing.