The Undying Fire: Truth and Lies

by Boogum

Book 2. The scarred boy is found alone and half dead. All he has on him is a knife, a Pai Sho tile, and a bit of parchment with a riddle on it. He thinks he might have been searching for someone, and the wound on his shoulder and the fear prickling his heart tells him he was running from something. The problem is that he doesn't remember. He doesn't remember anything.

17. Decision

"Do you think Zuko will come out soon?" Aang asked, glancing in the direction of the abandoned house.

There was a collective sigh from Katara and Sokka. This wasn't the first time he had asked the question. Toph just rolled her eyes and stuffed rice into her mouth. It seemed she was not going to acknowledge Aang with a response. Not that it would have helped him much if she had. The earthbender was a fan of "tough love" and would have been more likely to tell him to suck it up and to stop being such a baby than to offer any comfort.

Katara removed her glowing hands from Sokka's ankle. She bent the water back into her flask and turned to face Aang. "You're the one who said you couldn't force Zuko to be your friend. Just be patient."

"Yeah, but—"

"Look, Aang," Sokka said, even as he wiggled his ankle around to test for any lingering pain. Satisfied that Katara really had healed the sprain, he put his foot down and gave Aang his full attention. "If Prince Broody Pants wants to shut himself up in that house all broodily, then let him. You've said your piece, right? Then there's nothing more you can do." He raised his finger to the air like some great philosopher. "Besides, if there's one thing I've learnt while hunting, it's that you don't want to jump the paddle to catch your prey. You've got to be smart and give them enough space to lull them into a false sense of security so they'll lower their guard. That's when you can make your move."

Aang's brow creased. "I'm just trying to be his friend, Sokka. It's not like I want to trap Zuko in a cage and poke him with pointy sticks."

Katara placed her palm against her forehead. "Honestly, Sokka."

"Hey!" Sokka said, folding his arms across his chest. "I'm just saying that Aang shouldn't rush the guy. Look, I might not trust Zuko, but he still helped us out when he travelled with us as Lee, and it's obvious he's dealing with a lot of baggage." A shrug. "If Zuko wants to be alone, let him. You'll only make things worse if you keep prodding and pushing."

Aang stared at the half-finished bowl of rice on his lap. "I guess."

"Sokka is right," a deep voice said from behind Aang.

Aang stood up, almost dropping the bowl. "General Iroh!"

"Just Iroh is fine." He held up a steaming teapot. "I thought I'd make us some tea."

Aang bit his lip. He didn't care about tea just then; he wanted to know what Iroh had meant, but Iroh was already unearthing five wooden cups and pouring tea for each of them, refusing to be rushed. This was a man who went at his own pace. For Aang, it was like being stuck with the monks all over again: same aura of wisdom, same lamentable need to focus on (what Aang deemed) mundane tasks when there were other, more important things to worry about. It hurt—in a dull, aching kind of way—because all of the Air Nomads were dead, but it was also calming. Aang found himself instinctively responding to the familiar presence. He lost some of the tension in his muscles, and he even managed to accept his own cup of tea with a murmured thanks.

"You're welcome," Iroh said, and then settled down on the ground next to Toph. "Now then, what has my nephew done to get you so worried?"

Aang frowned and recounted the conversation he'd had with Zuko. It was rather convoluted, for Aang had a tendency to ramble, but Iroh still managed to get the gist of what had happened. Namely, that Aang had apologised and once more offered friendship, but that he had been swiftly rebuffed.

"I just don't know if he's ever going to forgive me," Aang said fretfully. "I mean, I want to believe that we can be friends, but Zuko just gets angry at me all the time. Like, all the time." He sighed and let his shoulders slump. "I don't know what I'm doing wrong."

Iroh stroked his beard. "I don't know if you are doing anything wrong."

"What?" Aang blinked a few times. "But Zuko always gets grumpy at me when I try to approach him and—"

"Avatar Aang," Iroh said gently, "it is not hate that makes my nephew lash out at you. In fact, it's quite the opposite."

Aang's eyes widened. "Really? But how do you know?"

Iroh's mouth curved into a sad smile. "Because he has been doing the same thing to me for three years."

There was a pause as the four members of Iroh's audience digested this information.

"What a brat," Toph said bluntly.

"Perhaps," Iroh admitted, "but a wounded lion-pup will often bite the hand that tries to show it kindness."

Aang scratched his cheek. "Um, I'm not sure I follow."

The wrinkles on Iroh's face seemed to deepen like the gnarled grooves of a tree. "My nephew has been grossly mistreated. Worse, he was hurt by those who should have cared for him most." Iroh shook his head, more self-deprecating than apologetic. "I'm ashamed to admit I did not notice until it was too late. Zuko had always been such a sweet, loyal child, but then Ozai ..."

There was a pause as Iroh struggled to articulate his thoughts. His eyes narrowed and his fingers tightened around the cup in his hands. Aang could have sworn he saw smoke rise from the wood.

"What did the Fire Lord do?" Katara asked in a hushed voice.

Iroh blinked out of whatever nightmarish memory had held him captive, though a sorrowful gleam remained in his eyes. "Let's just say that I will never forgive my brother for what he did to Zuko on that day. It was an act of the deepest cruelty, and it wounded Zuko in more ways than one."

No one seemed to know what to say after that. Aang just felt sad. He wanted to go right back into the house and give the prince a big hug. Hugs made everyone feel better, but Zuko was a prickly cactus who would probably just push him away again. It was frustrating. All Aang wanted was to be Zuko's friend. He didn't understand why Zuko had to be so stubborn. Iroh must have sensed his thoughts, because he reached out and placed his hand on Aang's shoulder.

"There is a reason why I'm telling you this, young Avatar," Iroh said. "You need to understand that Zuko has grown up in an environment where it was not safe for him to express his rage or his pain. The fact that he does open up to you, however harshly, suggests that he feels more positively towards you than you might think. You could almost call it an act of trust."

"An act of trust?" Aang scrunched his nose. "I dunno. I mean, I did lie to him, and he definitely wasn't happy with me when I fused with the Ocean Spirit. I don't think he trusts me much at all."

"This is a different kind of trust," Iroh explained, removing his hand from Aang's shoulder. "Yes, you've lied to him and have given him genuine cause to be upset with you, but you have also apologised for those actions and have tried to befriend him not once but several times. These continuous acts to reach out to him are the key. It is very common for those in his situation to lash out at those who are kind to them rather than the ones who actually hurt them. This is because, on a subconscious level, they feel safe in knowing that the recipient of their anger will not punish or abandon them." Iroh gave a rueful smile. "Though I admit it is not always an easy honour to bear."

Sokka leaned forward. "So, you're saying that Zuko turns into a big jerk around Aang because he actually trusts the little guy in some weird kind of way?"

"Whether Zuko wants to admit it or not, young Avatar, he feels safe with you. I don't know how you managed to convince him thus, but believe me when I say that my nephew would not have opened up to you as he has done if he truly hated you."

Aang let out a small breath. Zuko felt safe with him? Then it really wasn't hate that made him lash out? A smile crept across Aang's face, though it faded a second later. For all that it was nice to know that Zuko didn't actually want to burn him to a crisp, that didn't change the fact that Zuko was unhappy. A wounded lion-pup, Iroh had called him. Someone who didn't know how to express his pain in a healthy way or even ask for comfort.

"Isn't there anything we can do?" Aang asked, tightening his grip on the cooling tea cup. "I mean, is Zuko always going to be like this?"

Iroh sighed and stared in the direction of the abandoned house. "I wish I could say. His anger is real, as is the hurt that has caused him to become so shut off from others. You will have to be patient if you want him to respond positively to you again." Iroh glanced back at Aang, and a warm smile touched his lips. "But I hope that you will keep trying. My nephew is very lucky to have made a friend like you."

Aang rubbed the base of his neck. "I just did what I wanted to do."

"I know," Iroh said. "That's why he's lucky."

Aang frowned, saddened by the comment that should have been a compliment. It sounded like Zuko had never got much support from others before. That just made Aang feel even worse for lying when Zuko had amnesia. He'd been so selfish, thinking only of himself instead of Zuko's feelings. Even the girls were subdued. Katara clutched her pendant and stared at the flames with a distant expression on her face, while Toph just sat a bit awkwardly as if she had stumbled into something private that she hadn't wanted to witness and now wasn't sure what to do with the information.

"Aang," Sokka said in a grim voice, "what will you do if Zuko doesn't want to come with us?"

There was a tense silence as the full magnitude of those words settled over the group. Aang was the Avatar. He couldn't afford to delay his mission, not even to win over a stubborn prince, or at least that seemed to be what Sokka was implying. No doubt the others felt the same. The thought was heartbreaking.

"I'll try speaking to him," Iroh offered, perhaps sensing Aang's distress. "It wouldn't be wise for any of us to linger in this area with Princess Azula so close. I'm sure I can get Zuko to see reason."

Aang managed a smile. "Thank you."

oOo

It was dark in the abandoned house. Zuko sat hunched on the ground, legs pulled against his chest. He couldn't even conjure a flame to give himself light. His bending was weak and fragile, barely able to produce sparks. The healing ability that had saved two people's lives was indeed a double-edged sword. Rare and dangerous, his uncle had called it. Not that Zuko regretted healing his uncle; he didn't even regret healing the Avatar. He just regretted that it had come to this.

There he was, a prince, hiding in a rundown house in some abandoned Earth Kingdom village, just like some vagabond.

He was so pathetic.

There was a knock at the door. Zuko frowned at the battered screen. His eyes narrowed as another knock followed. If that little bald kid was back again ...

"Nephew."

Something got lodged in Zuko's throat. He swallowed and shifted into a more dignified position, not surprised when his uncle entered the room without being invited. Iroh had always disregarded those courtesies when they had travelled together on the ship.

"I brought you some tea," Iroh said by way of greeting, then frowned. "Well, perhaps we should have some light first, hrm?"

He placed the teapot and cups on the ground and created a ball of fire. The flames hovered above his palm for a moment before he used his bending to guide the ball to the fire pit where it took root in the partially charred wood that had been left over from the previous night. The fire grew and burned in orange flickers, lighting the room with a soft glow. Iroh smiled in satisfaction and knelt to pick up the teapot and one of the cups.

"I don't want any tea," Zuko mumbled, averting his face so that he was staring at the wall.

"Are you sure? It's ginseng."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "That's your favourite, Uncle. I don't care what flavour it is."

Iroh chuckled. "So it is, but perhaps you can humour an old man and drink it anyway. You never know, it might actually make you feel better. Clear some of those cobwebs in your mind."

Zuko muttered something about "cobwebs" and "stupid old man", but he still accepted the cup. There were some battles that weren't worth fighting. Refusing his uncle's favourite blend of tea was one of them. Besides, there was a small part of him—just a tiny part—that wanted to drink tea with his uncle and pretend that everything was okay. It would be just like it was when they had travelled together with rest of the crew, back when the ship had still sailed and there were no icy prisons to tear them apart.

Iroh sat opposite Zuko and settled into a cross-legged position. He took his time as he poured himself a fresh cup of tea and tasted a small sip. "Ah," he said, closing his eyes. "That is good tea."

Zuko said nothing. He just frowned at the cup in his hands, watching the steam rise in a spiralling, hot mist. He regretted accepting the tea now. His heart felt heavy and like it had sunk somewhere into the emptiness that gnawed at his insides. Sitting here like this was just making him feel worse. It was a reminder of how much had changed since his ship had been destroyed. Even drinking tea with his uncle left a bitter taste as if he were sipping liquid-flavoured ashes instead of herbs.

"I heard that you have stopped hunting the Avatar."

The words were spoken in a neutral voice, but they pierced Zuko to the core, stirring up the hurt and anger that festered under the surface of his deadened emotions. So, his uncle and the others had been talking about him.

"Well, it's nice to know you're all getting along so well," Zuko said, placing his tea aside. He didn't even want to look at the cup now. "Did you discuss anything else or were you too busy having a nice gossip session about me?"

Iroh frowned and placed his cup on the floor. "They're just worried about you. The Avatar especially."

Zuko tensed. He was well aware of how the Avatar felt about him. It was the reason he felt so upside down and conflicted whenever he saw the kid.

"I'm worried about you as well," Iroh said gently. "You've been so distant, always shutting yourself away and going off on your own. It took speaking to those children to learn that you'd chosen not to capture the Avatar, and while I will naturally support you in that decision, I can also see that you are far from happy." He reached out and placed his hand on Zuko's knee. "Please, tell me what's wrong. I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

Zuko withdrew his leg from the warm touch. "There's nothing to talk about."

Iroh didn't look pleased by the response. If anything, the creases of worry had only deepened on his brow. "Forgive me, Nephew, but I think there is a lot we need to talk about. You spent three years chasing the Avatar because you wanted to return home. Whatever it was that changed your mind is obviously upsetting you. Add in the fact that you're still recovering from amnesia and the draining effects of your healing abilities, and it's no wonder you're struggling."

"I'm fine. I'm just tired and—"

"Zuko, please stop lying to me."

The words were spoken gently yet firmly. Zuko bowed his head, swallowing against the sudden lump in his throat.

"I'm not such an old fool that I can't see when my nephew is hurting. I meant what I said earlier: I will not stand by idly and let you suffer." He placed his hand against Zuko's cheek, raising his chin so that their eyes met. "Please, don't make this harder for yourself. I am here for you. Lean on me. Let me share your burdens." A tender smile. "There is no shame in admitting you need help."

For a moment they just stared at each other. Then Zuko inhaled a shaky breath and pulled away. He stood up and turned his back on his uncle, closing himself off like a hermit crab retreating into its shell. "I want to be alone."

The words were barely audible. Iroh seemed to take the muted tone as a sign that it was okay to ignore the request, because he got to his feet and reached out to touch Zuko's arm. "Nephew, you don't have to keep pushing me away. I'm telling you that I can help you. Why do you insist on being so stubborn?"

Zuko closed his eyes. He couldn't handle this right now. Not when everything about the situation was just reminding him that his uncle had not been there for him.

"Zuko—"

"What do you want me to say?" he growled, swinging back to face the older man. "You were the one who left me at the Northern Water Tribe! I was threatened and hurt and left to rot in that prison of ice, and the only reason I got free was because a waterbender took pity on me!"

A deadly hush. Iroh looked as if he had been slapped. Not that Zuko got any satisfaction from the expression. All he could do was let out a trembling breath, his chest tight and his throat burning.

"You just left me," Zuko repeated, balling his hands into fists and feeling something hot prickle in the corner of his eyes. "You promised that you would always be there, and you just left. Just like"—his voice cracked—"just like Mum."

Iroh took one look at those over-bright eyes and pulled Zuko tightly into his arms. Zuko tried to break free, but it was like the arms that held him had become bars of iron. He could not break free of that hold; he wasn't even sure if he really wanted to break free. The scent of herbs that always seemed to linger around his uncle was so familiar, so soothing. Memories of happier times washed over him: drinking tea on a rusty old ship, bickering—so much bickering—but also laughter. They had spent three years together on that boat, and though his uncle had aggravated him with all his trivial talk and nagging, Zuko had also seen the old man as the only constant thing in his upside-down life. Everything else had changed, but his uncle had still been there.

And then he suddenly wasn't.

"Why did you leave?" Zuko choked out, burying his face into Iroh's shoulder. "Why does everyone always have to leave?"

Iroh's arms tightened around him. "Zuko."

That one word, uttered almost as a sigh, was the undoing of him. Something wet trailed down his cheeks, followed by another and another. He clutched at his uncle's tunic and trembled with suppressed sobs, trying so desperately to be strong, yet unable to stop the tears from flowing. His chest burned, his throat burned, everything was burning. He couldn't stop. The tears kept on coming, and his body shuddered, and he just couldn't stop crying. He couldn't even remember the last time he had cried like this. It was like a dam had been broken, letting all the hurt and feelings of abandonment gush out in a big, ugly mess.

"Shh," Iroh said, rubbing gentle circles on his back with his hand. "It's okay, Zuko. Just let it out."

Zuko shook his head, still keeping his face hidden against his uncle's tunic. He wanted to tell Iroh that it wasn't okay, because everything was so messed up now and he shouldn't be showing such weakness, but all that came out was a half-choked sob. Iroh's only response was to clutch him tighter.

"Don't be afraid to cry," Iroh murmured in his ear. "Even the greatest of warriors must shed tears in time of pain."

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, letting fresh tears roll down his cheeks. "I looked everywhere for you," he said in a small voice—a voice so small and vulnerable that it barely sounded like him.

"I know," Iroh said soothingly, still rubbing circles on his back. "I'm sorry I made you wait. I came as fast as I could."

That did it. If the dam had been broken before, it was an overflow of emotion now. Zuko dug his fingers into the coarse fabric of his uncle's tunic, crying openly as feelings he had suppressed for too long forced their way out of his body. Somehow, the two of them ended up kneeling on the ground while Iroh just held him, telling him over and over that it was going to be alright. Everything was going to fine.

"You don't have to be alone anymore," Iroh said, cradling him against his chest. "I'm here for you now, and I'm not going anywhere."

Zuko hiccupped on a sob. "How can I trust you? Everyone always leaves me."

"But I won't," Iroh repeated firmly. "I told you once before that I think of you as my own son. That hasn't changed, Zuko."

Zuko raised his head to stare at his uncle through tear-blurred eyes. There was no lie in the warm smile that curved his uncle's lips, nor was there any hint of deception in that loving gaze. His uncle cared for him like a son. With utter sincerity, Iroh had promised that he would not abandon him again. Such a declaration could not erase the weeks that Zuko had spent stumbling on his own, helpless and wounded, but it did ease some of the hurt in his chest. It did push back some of that gnawing emptiness.

Well, it was a start.

Zuko closed his eyes and relaxed into his uncle's embrace. Maybe he was being weak. Maybe it was foolish to even dare to hope that he could trust this man again. Zuko couldn't bring himself to care. He was tired and drained so terribly sick of struggling on his own. In that moment, he just wanted to forget.

He just wanted to believe.

oOo

The tears had completely dried on Zuko's face by the time Iroh left the abandoned house. His uncle had been intuitive enough to understand that Zuko needed time to digest all they had discussed, and there was indeed much to think about.

Iroh had waited until Zuko had calmed down before broaching the topic of what they were going to do next. He'd pointed out that they couldn't stay in Tu Zin with Azula and her forces nearby, and it seemed that the ostrich horse that Zuko had been riding had fled during the battle with Azula. No wonder he had been unable to find it when he'd explored the village.

Zuko frowned and rested his chin on his knees. He still felt a bit sad to think that the ostrich horse had vanished. The feathered creature had been his only companion for quite some time after he'd left the Avatar's group, and though he'd never given it a name, he'd still liked the animal. He hoped that the ostrich horse found a new owner or a nice place to live. Perhaps it would even return to the crazy cabbage merchant.

In any case, the loss of the ostrich horse now left him and his uncle with no means of transportation aside from their own two legs. Zuko had not wanted to consider the offer the Avatar had shyly given him, but his uncle had made it quite clear that it would be foolish to dismiss the use of the air bison. The Earth Kingdom was huge, and the most important thing for the two of them right now was to get somewhere safe and far away from Azula. They could figure out a more specific plan after that. Even Zuko couldn't argue with the logic, knowing that neither he nor his uncle were in any condition to be fighting. Zuko couldn't bend, and Iroh was still recovering from his lightning injury.

That was the other issue troubling Zuko: his healing abilities and the effects it had on his chi. He'd learnt that people like him had used to be called the Children of the Undying Fire. Unfortunately, the only other information Zuko had got was that his powers were rare and dangerous and that the Fire Nation had tried to wipe out all of the fire healers. It was frustrating. Zuko wished he could learn more or at least figure out a way to control the ability. He didn't like to think about what would happen if he accidentally triggered his healing powers again. He'd already had two close calls.

"Maybe there is a way," he murmured.

The world was vast. Surely there had to be another bender like him out there somewhere or at least some kind of record to help him understand his strange abilities.

He sighed and left the house, walking towards the campfire where the others had gathered. Iroh served a fresh batch of tea and chatted to Toph while Katara sat sipping her own tea with a pensive expression. Sokka had his head buried in a map, and Aang was leaning against Appa and playing with Momo, making bits of leaves and dust dance in the wind for the lemur to catch. It was the kind of scene that had been normal for Zuko when he had travelled with the group as Lee.

Aang perked up as soon as he noticed him. "Zuko!" he exclaimed, letting the leaves fall to the ground and bolting to his feet. "How are you feeling? Your uncle said we shouldn't bother you for a while, but I thought you looked kind of upset when I was talking to you earlier, and then you didn't make a sound or come out of the house for so long after Iroh went to see you, and then I got worried and started to think that maybe you had left again and—"

"Aang," Sokka said, raising his head from the map. "Breathe."

Aang rubbed the base of his neck, looking a bit pink. "Uh, yeah. Sorry about that." He gave a sheepish grin. "I guess I got a little carried away."

"A little?" Toph said with a snort.

Aang's blush deepened, but he ignored her taunt and turned back to Zuko. "So, um, did you want anything to eat? Katara made rice and, uh, I think we have some fruit somewhere…"

Zuko just stared at Aang for a second, caught off guard by the bombardment of cheeriness and concern. It was a bit much to deal with after the emotionally draining conversation he'd had with his uncle. Perhaps that was why he didn't respond in his usual contrary or dismissive way. Instead, he just shook his head.

"I'm not hun—" he began, only to fall silent when a bowl of rice was shoved into his hands. He blinked and glanced down to see Katara standing next to him, not quite meeting his gaze.

"You should eat something," she said, still looking anywhere but at his face. "You've barely eaten a thing today."

Zuko didn't have the heart to refuse her when she was using her "Mum" voice; it was a reminder of all the times she had tried to mother him and the group when he'd travelled with them as Lee. Plus, he really was too tired to put up a fight. So, instead of repeating that he wasn't hungry, he just nodded and accepted the bowl with a murmured thanks. Katara moved back to her seat without a word, though he noticed that she kept shooting him sidelong glances. In fact, all of the little group were giving him weird looks.

"What?" he demanded after the sixth time he caught Aang staring at him.

Aang blushed again and rubbed his bald head. "Um, well, we were just wondering if you had decided what you're going to do next. Sokka and your uncle both agree that we shouldn't stay in this village another night, 'cause your sister and those girls are still out there and—"

Zuko sighed as he realised this was going to be another convoluted speech. "Yes."

Aang blinked. "Uh, yes?"

"Yes, my uncle and I will take you up on your offer." Zuko gave Aang a warning glare. "Just for practical reasons, of course. Don't go getting any ideas that this means I want to be your friend."

Aang nodded and promised that he would be on his best behaviour, but the jaw-splitting grin that stretched across his face belied his words. Zuko would have been more bothered by his enthusiasm had Uncle not chosen that moment to speak.

"I'm glad you were able to put your pride behind you, Nephew," Iroh said in a soft voice so that only Zuko could hear. "You've made the right decision. We'll be able to get to a safer area much faster using the Avatar's air bison."

Zuko just made a noncommittal sound. His thoughts had turned to more pressing matters. He stirred the rice around in his bowl with his chopsticks, his gaze distant and a frown tugging at his lips. "Uncle, you said you'd help me learn more about my healing abilities, right?"

"Of course."

"Then do you have any idea where we could start?"

Iroh stroked his beard. "The only records I've seen about the Children of the Undying Fire were the ones I found in the palace archives, and I've already told you all the information I got from those." He thought to himself for a moment and then his eyes brightened as if he'd just had an epiphany. "There is one place that might be able to help us learn more about your abilities."

Zuko leaned forward, oblivious to the four pairs of ears that were now listening in on the conversation. "Where?"

"A library found in the Si Wong Desert." Some of the glow faded from Iroh's eyes. "I went there once after Lu Ten ..." He swallowed, not quite able to hide the flicker of pain that flashed across his expression. "Well, that doesn't matter now. What matters is that the library is full of ancient records that have been collected from all over the world. There is a good chance that we will be able to find something about the Children of the Undying Fire if we go there."

Sokka thrust his head between Iroh and Zuko, planting a hand on each of their shoulders. "Did you say a library that stores lots of ancient records?"

Zuko's mouth twisted into a scowl. "Do you mind? This was a private conversation."

"And now it's not," Sokka said before turning to Iroh with a grin. "So, the library?"

Iroh chuckled. "Very well, I shall share with you what I know. It's the least I can do in return for the assistance you and your friends have given us during these past two days."

Zuko's scowl became even more pronounced. Exhausted or not, he did not like to be dismissed. He definitely did not like to have his conversations interrupted by presumptuous Water Tribe boys. Zuko opened his mouth to say as much, but then Momo chose that moment to come and land on his shoulder, chittering happily and offering him a half-bitten piece of fruit. A reluctant smile curved his lips. It was difficult to stay angry when confronted with those big, round eyes.

"Hey there, little guy," he murmured, giving Momo a pat on his fuzzy head. "You can keep your fruit. I've got plenty of rice."

Momo gave a lemur-like shrug and stuffed the rest of the fruit piece into his mouth. Zuko just shook his head in amusement and turned back to his uncle, listening as the old man told the tale of Wan Shi Tong's library and the Knowledge Seekers. It was a fantastical legend, but then Zuko had seen some rather fantastical things during his sixteen years of life. In truth, he didn't care if the library had been originally built in the Spirit World or not; he just hoped that it would give him the knowledge that he sought.

The Children of the Undying Fire. He needed to know what it meant. No matter what, he would uncover the truth.