A/N: Hey everyone! First off I am SO sorry for how long this one took me - I did not expect how busy my life would get these past two years and that I'd hardly have time or energy to focus in-depth on writing. But I will not be giving up on this, and I'm super grateful to hear that people are still following this story. It really means a lot to me. I still can't promise a concrete posting schedule but I'll do my best not to make the delays drag on for months.

So here's the long-overdue chapter that concludes the first arc of the story. (Two more arcs to go :D)

Hope you enjoy!

23. Escape Heist

Azula sat at the wooden tea table, her back straight, hands folded in her lap. She had set aside the breakfast tray she had finished, leaving only the two usual place mats adorning the table's surface. She studied them while she waited, those woven patterns she knew so well, the faint splotches from tea drops that hadn't been wiped away in time.

Finally the door opened for the Professor. He was humming a merry tune and carried the tea tray, likely having convinced one of the nurses to let him prepare it himself. He set down the brewing pot at the center of the table and poured some of the mango brew for each of them.

Azula took a few sips of the tea while their silence ran its course. It was the first time she had seen him that week, and now the day had come. He laid aside some books he had brought and sat down in front of her.

"Have you thought about my question from earlier, Princess?"

Azula's gaze flickered down. But she had trained her resolve and her voice was firm. "I'll go."

The Professor bowed his head. "Very good. Do I then have your wish and command to release you?"

"Yes. I command you to release me." Azula met his gaze and narrowed her eyes. "But if it doesn't work, then I'm not saving you. Whatever Dr. Low does to you for breaking his contract, I'll stand by and let him. I'll tell him you brainwashed me."

"I understand perfectly, Princess. Rest assured everything will go smoothly."

Azula sipped her tea without response. Her hands were growing clammy, so she lowered them beneath the table and wiped them on her knees.

Another silence settled over them. The Professor leaned back in his chair, sipping his tea as relaxed as ever. His amber eyes surveyed the room.

"The new furniture makes it look quite nice," he remarked. His gaze went to Azula, twinkling with humor. "Almost a shame, eh? Leaving so soon when you've just gotten your room redone."

Azula did not reply.

"If you'd like you can bring a few things along. The tapestry is quite lovely. Or perhaps the blanket, it might get chilly." Noticing her silence, he gave a sympathetic smile. "Or perhaps you'd rather not carry anything from this place away with you. I understand perfectly, Princess. But don't you worry, the comfort of our facility outranks this one by ten measures."

"It's big?" Azula asked blandly.

"That it is, Princess. We are a community of scholars young and old, working together like a family. Our university is the utmost pride of our village. Built and furnished by generous donations from all around the Fire Nation. And, of course, some out-of-pocket expenses." He chuckled.

Village. The word made Azula cringe, but she fought down the feeling. It wouldn't matter, she told herself. If anything, she could get away from them too. After that she could go anywhere.

The Professor's gaze wandered over to where his books were, as if just remembering about them. He took one down onto his knee and began to thumb through it. "Hm. This was an interesting passage, we'll definitely have a look at this… And perhaps some of the other ones in this series too. Not quite fond of Ru Xian's take on cosmic essence, but I suppose it's worth analyzing..."

This was gibberish to Azula, so she ignored it. The Professor rubbed his beard in thought for a while, then at last he smacked the book closed. "Ah, enough of that. There'll be plenty of time for curricula later. In fact, we'll have time for everything. As our saying goes, the sea's as deep and wide as you want to travel."

"Good," Azula remarked.

The Professor finished his tea and gathered up his books. "Well, I'll leave you to the rest of your day, Princess. I'll get everything ready, and when it's done, I'll let you know!"

"Wait," Azula called. "What exactly are you going to do? What am I supposed to wait for?"

"I think it's better I don't tell you, Princess," the Professor replied. "If there's one thing these mind-scientists get right, it's that thoughts are powerful. If you know something in advance of others, it'll show in your demeanor whether you want it to or not."

"No it won't. I'm a good liar."

The Professor smiled. "I don't doubt your cunning, Princess. But I beg you to trust me on this. It will be for everyone's good if you don't know."

Azula wanted to argue, but the calm certainty in his tone told her that there would be no point. She scowled and crossed her arms. "Fine. But how long will it take, at least? I don't want you snoozing for a month then knock on my door one morning and tell me to run for it."

The Professor tapped his chin. "Hmm… I'd say it shouldn't be longer than a week. I have to send hawks to a few locations, then naturally I'll have to wait for them to come back, but after that it'll go rather quick. Yes, it should be a week and no longer." He gave a nod. "Is that all right, Princess?"

"It's fine."

"Very good. Until then!" The Professor bowed a final time and departed.

Left alone, Azula averted her gaze from the door and focused on the table again. She leaned her chin in her hand, clasping the other one into a fist.

It was the right thing to do, she affirmed. For her, and for everyone else. The new inner voice in her mind had told her so.

As long as she had its guidance, she knew, she'd never again be led astray.

...

Days passed without event. Azula went through her usual routine, the series of physical therapy exercises and creative pursuits that by now had grown to define her rhythm of life. The nurses went by their business as well, organizing and planning. All throughout, the door to the Professor's office remained closed. The sound of his voice vanished from the daily mix of chatter, and for once, Azula heard no stray comments or complaints about him from the other staff. For some time it was almost as if those couple days of chaos and arguments had never happened.

And yet, with the passage of time, Azula's nervousness grew. She couldn't let it show, so she pushed it down, to the point where it only made itself apparent when she was alone. It wormed its way out at random intervals, bringing a tremor to her hands, or a blooming feeling of dread when she looked around her clean, refurbished room. She shoveled down her food without any real desire to eat it, and as a result eating grew harder. By the end of the week Azula could hardly coax herself to take more than a few bites. She sat over her evening tea not drinking it, looking with a nauseated feeling at the plate of sweet cookies that she usually scraped clean.

There hadn't been a single whiff of change. No signals, no whispered messages. But the week was nearly done. For all she knew, the Professor could arrive at any minute.

She almost jumped when the doorknob turned. Azula braced herself against the chair, trying to calm her hammering heart, but it wasn't the Professor. It was Dr. Low.

To her even greater surprise, he was wearing his military uniform. That could only mean one thing.

"You're going to the mainland?" Azula said aloud.

Dr. Low nodded. "A hawk came in. Apparently there's been an explosion at one of the storage centers. They're not sure how much of the next shipment was damaged, so I have to sort things out." He sighed and closed the door behind him. "All in a month's work, I guess."

"Oh."

Dr. Low settled into the chair across from her. He took out his notebook from under his arm and began to flip through it as he often did. His expression seemed normal as well, not stern or clouded. But the sudden proximity of his presence made Azula uneasy. And it wasn't just because of the choice she had resolved to follow through with.

Rather, she still couldn't shake the feeling that she had upset him during their previous talk somehow. Something that had revolved around family, and fate, and belonging. Once again her words had punctured someone like a knife, only this time she felt the blade's edge cut into herself as well.

A whole minute passed. But Dr. Low didn't say anything. He seemed to be fine with sitting there, letting the silence cloak them like a mist. Azula watched him, trying to glean what he was thinking, counting down the seconds until he spoke. A single word, no matter how small. Then perhaps she could judge his emotions.

But he remained silent. After a while his gaze wandered into the distance in contemplation, but he kept the notebook on his lap, tapping it with his finger every so often.

At last, Azula spoke. "So when will you be back?"

"About a week," he replied.

"Okay."

His gaze went to her now, and his tone became more upbeat. "Is there anything you want me to bring back for you? Snacks, books?"

Azula shrugged a shoulder. "I guess a book would be nice."

"Any one in particular?"

"I don't know, it could be anything. Whatever you see."

He gave a smile. "All right, then."

A silence fell over them again. The wave of discomfort returned, this time more powerful; whether it was a fabrication of her own mind or shared by him, Azula didn't know. Though there was nothing unusual about his demeanor. As far as she could detect, Dr. Low was neither unhappy nor tentatively moving to broach a subject. Perhaps she had been wrong. Perhaps he hadn't been upset.

But no, he had been... She had felt it...

Oh well, not that you'll get to find out, the voice in her mind teased. A rock dropped through Azula's chest. Of course, she wouldn't. She was leaving too. She'd likely be gone before Dr. Low even came back.

But perhaps it was better this way. At least he wouldn't have to see her leaving. And she wouldn't have to deal with the look on his face.

At least tell him you don't need the book then, you lizard-snake, the voice came again.

She pushed the thought away. No. No. She'd stay. She'd read the book. She'd thank him for it.

But your visions, another voice protested. They won't magically go away on their own.

They wouldn't.

Azula grumbled.

"You seem thoughtful," Dr. Low remarked.

Azula met his gaze for a brief moment, then looked away. "I guess."

"Is something bothering you?"

Azula leaned her chin on her fist. She couldn't lie; he'd read it off her. In fact, he already had. Months and months ago.

She looked back up at him, but still couldn't find anything to say. So instead she ended up studying his eyes. They were a warm amber. Calm and nonjudgmental, like they already understood everything and were merely waiting for her to be ready to talk about it. They'd seen death and suffering. Likely just as much as a soldier on the front lines. Azula had met a fair number of veterans in her childhood, and oftentimes their eyes had been scary and empty. But these had somehow managed to remain human. Full with emotions, including sometimes the sad ones.

A thought stirred in her mind, and unexpectedly words formed on her tongue. "Do you believe in fate?" she asked.

Dr. Low's gaze trailed to the ceiling and he pressed a thumb to his chin in thought. "I believe… in connections," he said. "There are connections between people and between people and the world. Our actions have effects, and those effects interplay with each other when we cross paths with other people. Naturally, the choices you make will involve walking away from other things, and in that regard they determine to some degree where you're able to end up. But I'm a firm believer that destiny is something you shape for yourself. It's not something that's written down somewhere and exerts its rule over the entire universe."

"But it's possible for someone to choose wrong."

"Certainly. But wrongs can be righted."

"Really?"

"Of course. That's what life is about. He who wants to live a thousand years better be ready to learn a thousand lessons." A smile tugged at Dr. Low's mouth. "That's what I'd always tell my son when he was younger. One time he said to me, 'Well, maybe if people lived as long as spirits, we'd get the chance to get wise like them and we wouldn't make so many mistakes!'"

Azula lifted an eyebrow. "Wouldn't we, though?"

"Well, I don't think so. If you look at all the folklore and legends, you'll see that even spirits aren't perfect. They can get angry, and sad, and be wrongfully prejudiced. They're mighty and immortal, but they're affected by things a lot like we are. That's why I think there's no such thing as a perfect existence. Only a real one."

Azula fell into a long thought. "So, what about your family?" she spoke up. "You've been going to the mainland for all this time. Did you ever see them?"

"No. I've been seeing them less often as of late… They've grown up, so I suppose it's about time they found their own way." Dr. Low's smile dipped down slightly.

"Oh."

After a moment, he gave a faint laugh. "Looks like talking to you about your family took me down memory lane as well."

Azula felt a wave of something swell inside her. Truly, what could she ever be to him? He was a normal person, with a normal family and a normal life. Who was she to take up his attention? She was just the evil princess… If anything, she was burdening him with her problems. He'd be better off without her.

But no. She didn't want to be a burden anymore. She didn't want to corrupt him.

She wanted the beach. She wanted the green meadow.

She wanted to heal.

Another silence settled in, and this time it remained unbroken. At last Dr. Low finished his tea, and with an amiable sigh he rose from his chair. "Well, I suppose I should get going. We sail by moonlight."

Azula leaned forward. "Wait."

Dr. Low paused.

"What you said a while ago," Azula began. "About the two heads… How do I know if… I mean… if it's not too late to fix things? For me, or for anyone? I just feel like... I spent so much time caring about the wrong things... that there's no other way for me to go now."

Dr. Low took a few moments to contemplate this. At first Azula was worried he hadn't understood her, but then finally a glimmer appeared in his expression and his mouth spread into a gentle smile. "Each new day is a new chance. It's as clean a sheet as you want it to be, whether it's for a new attitude, or for an entire life's journey. And really, it's not just about days — it's every moment, in fact." His gaze went to the closed curtains. "But evening is usually when I like to call it a day. You should get some rest, Azula. We've done a lot of talking."

Azula wanted to hold him back. There was still something she wanted to say, something she had frustratingly ended up dancing around during the entire conversation, not knowing how to put it into words. But as she hung in the renewed silence, the words didn't come. At last she sat back and crossed her arms. "Fine."

She watched, somehow saddened, as Dr. Low pushed his chair in and tucked the notebook away. "I'll come back at the end of the week. We'll start with fresh heads." He stepped back from the table and gave her a nod. "Good night."

Azula nodded back. "Good night."

He gathered his tea set and walked out, his footfalls fading down the hall and his half of the round wooden table left empty.

He'd never sit at it again.

…

Several days later, the black shape of a Fire Nation vessel appeared on the horizon. The sharp curve of the its bow was pointed towards the island and there were trails of foam flowing behind it. It was headed for their harbor.

Azula kept tabs on it from her bedroom window, stealing glances every couple minutes to see it inch closer. There was no one on deck as far as she could tell, but the smoke puffing out from its exhaust pipes signaled that it was making good pace.

Nira was on her way from the far end of the hallway when she glimpsed the window through Azula's doorway. She stopped with a confused expression. "What happened? Did they turn around?"

Isla brushed past her. "No, it's for me. I had to rush some extra powder."

"Oh." Nira bobbed her head in understanding and went on.

In the meantime, Isla proceeded outside. Azula watched from her window as the nurse disappeared in the direction of the storage shed, then came back rolling an empty wagon. The ship docked, the gangplank was lowered, and a group of Fire Nation crewmen stepped out. They looked normal as well, dressed in their usual uniforms. They handed over boxes to Isla, who checked their contents and helped load them into the wagon. Finally she bade the captain farewell and rolled the wagon inside. Minutes later the boxes were all stocked away, and the ship departed. By midday the sea was clear and calm again.

Azula turned away from her window at that point, tapping her foot in agitation. She had already convinced herself that the Professor would be taking her away by ship. What other options did he have? There was no other way to get off an island… unless he intended to fly her out on an airship? But any airship of decent speed was enormous; there wasn't any room for one to dock. Perhaps he planned to use a war balloon… but that was slow and risky. They were apt to be spotted by every vessel they floated past. Perhaps they'd even run into the ship Dr. Low was on. Did the Professor even take into account that he might leave?

Azula paced to and fro, a frown etched over her face. At last she sat down on the edge of her bed, staring at her slip-on shoes. Her gaze ran over the cabinets and bookshelf. Once again, the bedroom was starting to feel like a cage.

It's best if you don't know, Princess, the Professor's words echoed.

Azula balled her hands into fists. Inwardly she scolded herself for not forcing the information out of him; how on Earth did the thoughts connect in his mind that not knowing what was supposed to happen would be better? If anything, it was setting her on edge even more. She was slowly tipping down the path towards becoming a jittery mess again, and it would only be a matter of time before one of the nurses noticed.

But no, she was supposed to believe that this was better. And not just for her, but for everyone. For some reason the word stood out in her mind now. Who exactly did he mean by 'everyone'?

Azula continued pacing, trying to get rid of the frustration. She unrolled scrolls, dumbly copied calligraphy lines, forced herself through challenging yoga poses. At last, the sun dipped down over the sea and Nira came in with her dinner.

"Serve's up Azula!" Nira proffered the tray like a seasoned waitress. "It's canned fish today. This one doesn't taste like metal. And we made some porridge from the clean rice, I hope you don't mind. Isla made some berry sauce to make everything taste better. It's pretty good!"

Azula murmured a thanks as she accepted the bowl. She took the chopsticks and began to eat, plucking bits of food at random and chewing passionlessly. Then midway, an odd feeling flickered inside her. It was like a butterfly-worm flapping its wings, sending a stir through her chest. Azula gave the food a glance, turning it over a few times with her chopsticks. Visually there was nothing wrong with it. She took a few more bites, chewing more slowly this time and examining the taste. This seemed normal as well — no strange spices or metallic taste Nira had mentioned.

But the feeling grew, blossoming from flutters to waves. As the minutes passed, the waves grew stronger, until finally Azula felt one spread out from her chest and flow like a viscous current through her arms and legs. A familiar heaviness dropped over her body, then moments later it cleared away, leaving behind a lightness and relief that felt like the straitjacket-blanket being lifted off her shoulders. Her chi was flowing again.

The food had been laced with serum antidote.

Azula's heart fluttered as she rose to her feet. With Nira gone, the panic blossomed without hindrance, heightening her awareness and making her hands shake. Concurrently Azula became aware of a muffled whump from nearby. It was like a sack of flour hitting the floor, although she couldn't be sure if she had imagined it. Another jab of anxious pain stabbed at Azula's chest and she rushed to press her ear against the door. No sound.

She waited, then carefully opened the door by a crack. The hallway was empty. But as she craned her head towards the left, she saw something lying on the ground. At first her mind didn't register it, but when she leaned farther out, she saw the edge of a sleeve and a skirt.

Then arms, then shoulders, and a face framed with short black hair.

It was Nira.

The nurse was lying limp on her side. The rolled-up towels she had been carrying lay strewn about her, and her eyes were closed. Azula rushed over and checked her neck for a pulse. But nothing seemed to move inside the mass of muscles and tendons beneath her finger. Azula pressed harder, even tried the other side. Still nothing.

Alarm horns sounded in Azula's mind. Her instinct told her to scream, or shout, or whisper, at least open her mouth. But her body had frozen to the spot.

In the meantime, an arid silence seemed to settle over the building. There were no sounds of motion in the distance, no one calling out to ask where Nira had gone. Only the sound of Azula's own breaths echoed in her ears. At last, body shaking, she rose to her feet and stumbled into the lounge. Several nurses were there, lying motionlessly on the couch and slouched over in their chairs.

She raced into Dee's office. The therapist was slumped over her desk, her head buried on top of her papers. Her ink bottle had fallen over, and a lock of her hair was soaking in the puddle of black fluid.

Azula's breath caught in her throat. Images flashed before her eyes: an Earth Kingdom blizzard, a sickness that left people dropping like puppets…

Slowly but surely she felt her own airway close up. Her hands grew cold, and her breaths grew shallow. Choked words fought their way out of her throat.

"No… no!"

Azula stumbled back into the hallway. "Guards!" she shouted. "Night crew! Somebody help!"

A dark shape flickered in the corner of her vision. Azula whirled around, heart hammering, black blobs dancing across her vision almost in the form of a shape. This was it. The spirit was attacking. The silver-haired koi-Ursa had toyed with her up until now, but now it had unleased its full anger.

"No!" Azula retorted. She sent a whip of blue fire at the blobs. "Go away! GO AWAY!"

Blue light flooded the hallway as her flames caught the walls. Azula continued punching fire, but the shadows that danced behind them only grew taller, their motions more fluid until they seemed like living bodies.

Azula turned and ran off in the other direction. She raced past the craft room — more listless nurses lying on the floor — and skidded to a stop before Dr. Low's door. She tugged at the knob, but it was locked. Grunting in frustration, Azula grabbed it with both hands and transmitted as much heat as she could to her palms. The heat flowed, pooling between her hands like an invisible fireball, until the metal knob grew soft and pliable. She turned it, deforming the internal structure, and kicked open the door.

The office was untouched. The desk was clean, papers stacked, Dr. Low's chair swiveled to the side as if he'd stepped out just a moment ago. Azula punched fire at the doorway, letting it rise up into a protective curtain, and rushed for the bookshelves. Her hands flew blindly across the spines of the books: Chi diagrams. Pathology. Herbs. Shen Qua…

Shen Qua. Azula pulled the book out. It was a thick volume, stuffed with dozens of bookmarks and stray notes. She knelt down with it on the carpet and frisked through the pages. Pages that wouldn't help, that she probably wouldn't even understand…

Then a loud laugh tore her out of her thoughts. Azula whirled around, dropping the book, fire already springing from her palms. A hazy shape had appeared behind her flame curtain, and at the flick of their hand the flames parted, turning from blue to red.

"And there it is!" came a cheerful voice.

It was the Professor. He stepped out from the fire-curtain, spreading his arms out to the sides like a performer after his signature act. He took off his glasses and wiped them off the hem of his smock. "Freedom is certainly sweet! Good thinking on your part, Princess, leaving those burn marks. Masking this as another vision escapade will certainly dispel suspicion."

Azula stared at him, mute. Just like that, her panic was sucked away.

The Professor stepped forward. "Come, Princess, we must be on our way. Those pesky nurses should be asleep for a few more hours, and by then we'll be well offshore. Is there anything you wish to bring with you?"

Azula looked back at the shelves, at the fallen book on the floor. She picked it up, replacing all the loose notes and took it into her hands. The Professor beckoned and she followed him out of the office.

Her rampage had left the hallway charred. The walls were streaked with black from where her flames had been, resembling a child's ink painting. The Professor pointed towards her bedroom. "Mind if I make it more convincing, Princess?"

Azula shook her head.

The Professor went into her room and cast a burst of fire inside. Azula ran up to him just in time to see the fire engulf the bed. He looked again to her for confirmation, then sent another blast at the bookshelf. Then the curtains, then the counter, and finally her metal wheelchair. The seat pads and metal didn't catch, but the surface was left blackened, the straps sagging down from their half-melted clasps.

The Professor ushered her down to the other half of the hallway, torching random points on the walls as he went on. "What is your usual defense instinct when you're faced with the spirit?"

"Lightning," Azula replied.

"Ah, very good. Are you in a position to generate some now?"

Azula shoved the Shen Qua book into his hands. The Professor held it obediently, watching as Azula splayed out her forefingers and went through the motions with her hands. Lightning formed between her fingertips and she shot the bolts at the walls and floor. The blue-white glow flashed in the Professor's glasses. "Good, very good! If you don't mind, Princess, we should go a bit father…"

Azula followed the direction of his pointing finger and moved on towards the craft room. She shot lightning at the teacher's desk, boring holes in the wooden structure. She cast a flame at the map and watched it eat up the paper, until only a small upper portion remained. Then she held out her palms and doused the fires. Careful to step around the nurses, she kicked down the potted plants and upturned some desks.

She went out to deal with the other rooms, torching the surfaces of the closed doors. Most of them were locked, but if there was anyone inside, they didn't announce themselves. Finally Azula arrived at Isla's room. The door stood slightly ajar, sounds of clinking glass and rustling fabric coming from inside.

Azula's heart jumped into her throat. She nudged the door open with her foot, bringing a figure into view before the counter. Taking a breath, she kicked the door out the rest of the way.

At the same time, Isla stiffened. The nurse whirled around, a pestle in one hand and a linen sack in the other.

Their gazes locked.

A mild surprise streaked across Isla's expression and Azula's thoughts scrambled for what to do. There was no rope in sight, nothing to lock her behind or otherwise restrain her. Perhaps she could bar the door, hot-fuse the lock shut…?

But midway Azula heard a chuckle from behind.

"Easy, Princess."

The Professor stepped towards them. He had his hands behind his back, smiling.

Azula blinked at him in confusion. In the meantime, Isla packed away the pestle and tightened the straps of the sack. "I'm coming with you."

Azula's mouth parted in shock. The Professor lowered a hand on her shoulder. "Isla here has a great wealth of skills and knowledge," he said. "Herbalists like her are very hard to come by. She will be of tremendous help on our mission."

Isla dragged out a wheeled chest from beneath her bed and placed the sack inside. The chest was nearly filled to the brim with supplies and clothes. "I've packed everything you asked," she said to the Professor. "Everyone should be asleep by now. I suggest we leave immediately and not cause any unnecessary damage."

"I agree," the Professor said. "Though I should tell you that some damage was inescapable…" He took a few steps back, allowing Isla to enter the hallway.

Isla scanned the wreckage and sighed. "Well. At least we won't have to plan another renovation."

The Professor smiled. "I suppose so. Truthfully, this factory was prime to be torn down ages ago… But still, what the repair teams have done with the place is simply a marvel. I know I've told you a million times about that heating system, but what I wouldn't give to have it at my facility. It would make the winter months infinitely more bearable, and with no risk of burned scrolls whatsoever!"

Isla went back to her counter and finished packing up her things. She locked the chest and pulled a long brown traveling cloak over her shoulders. She fastened it with a clip, leaving the hood down.

The three of them had just emerged from her room when suddenly the Professor's amiable expression clouded. "It seems we have a problem."

Azula looked askance, where the door to the nurse's quarters had opened. A figure had crawled out into the hallway, head ducked and coughing. It was Mira. She looked up at them, revealing a pale, vacant face and unfocused eyes. But she appeared to have enough control over them to blink, narrowing them as if she were trying to peer through fog.

Azula's muscles froze. Isla tensed as well, lips pursing together.

"Mistake in concentration, perhaps?" the Professor remarked.

"I can't account for everyone's metabolism," Isla replied. She went to Mira, kneeling beside her and lifting her up under the arms.

Still in a daze, Mira allowed herself to be supported and settled into a kneeling position. Her eyes blinked again, uncannily slow, and their gaze wandered up to the Professor. Her expression twisted into a snarl. "You… I knew you were bad…"

"Yes, yes, I'm simply awful. Heavens condemn me, I tried to get you to think." The Professor swiveled around on his heel, hands on his hips. "Well, Isla, what do you suggest we do?"

"Put her to sleep. I'll give her another dose."

"And when she wakes up, she'll remember what we did. She'll spin a horrible yarn to the Fire Lord and my entire facility's work will be endangered."

Isla's eyes flashed with anger. "It's the princess's will, isn't it? She was miserable here and asked you to get her out. That's exactly what we'll tell the Fire Lord. Leave it be."

Azula glared at the Professor. "Leave it be."

The Professor sighed and waved a hand. "Fine. Do what you have to."

Isla sprinkled some powder onto a cloth and held it to Mira's mouth. Mira's eyes closed and she fell limp against Isla, this time fully. Isla hoisted her up under the arms again and dragged her back to the nurse's quarters.

The Professor swiveled in place again, tapping his chin. "Now, what's left?… Ah! That's right." He snapped his fingers. Before Azula could ask, he turned around and rushed back in the direction of Dr. Low's office.

Azula hurried after him. The Professor went to the bookshelves, skimming over the contents just as she had done minutes before. He grabbed a few things and stacked them in his arms. "That's it… there's my scroll… that reference letter might be of use to me later…"

"What are you doing?" Azula asked.

"Taking back a few things. It'll be as if I were never here." He went behind Dr. Low's desk and opened some drawers. "Let's see. Cargo ledgers… Letters from the Fire Lord..." He paused on this and opened up one of the scrolls. "Hm. This one should go." He crumpled it up, and moments later the paper was engulfed by a burst of flame from his palm.

Azula wanted to stop him. Part of her wanted to read what was in those letters, to see what Zuko had written. But she hesitated too long, and soon all of them were reduced to ashes in the Professor's hand. He scattered them over the floor.

The Professor hurried out of the room, his possessions in hand, and Azula trailed after him. As they entered the hallway she noticed Isla had opened the back door. The nighttime shore was visible behind her, and she was tapping her foot in impatience. As the Professor approached, she cast a weary glance at the small armful of things he was carrying. "I'm assuming you're leaving everything else?"

"Correct," the Professor replied. But then he lapsed into a thoughtful pause. "Actually, as a matter of fact… I think we should make my office look convincing too."

"Do it quickly," Isla said.

The Professor entered his study. Azula watched him set down everything he was carrying and approach his desk, where he stood in contemplation for a moment. Then he slid a foot back into a loose stance and punched a hand forward. A hot orange flare blossomed out from where the desk was, flames dancing and flickering as they swallowed up the wood.

Azula watched in stunned disbelief as the Professor paced around the rest of the room, similarly torching all the other pieces of furniture. He displaced chairs and tables, pulled books right out from the shelves and let them tumble to the floor like worthless props. The numerous isolated fires spread out and fused, until the entire back half of the office was framed by flickering orange tongues.

At last the Professor turned to his wall of posters. Azula's eyes swept over the diagrams: circling koi fish, spirits, lion turtles. Cast in the dancing light of the flames, the beasts' eyes seemed to peer out at her. The Professor tore the posters down one by one, and as he began to burn them in his hands Azula's heart hammered with urgency.

"Wait!" she called out. "Where did you get all those things? What are they?"

"Relax, Princess, I have copies!" the Professor replied. "There's nothing here that you won't find again. You're going to a world-class facility where these things practically grow on trees."

From the hallway, Isla pounded a hand on the doorframe. "Let's go!"

"Almost finished!" the Professor replied.

Azula didn't wait for him and left the room. Isla had pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, obscuring her topknot. She turned to Azula, her face shadowed beneath the hood, her long hair hanging down.

A wave of strange deja-vu hit Azula. At the same time Isla reached out to her, a silent beckon, and Azula went towards her. Somehow their hands connected and Isla's clasped around Azula's in a steadying grip. The nurse tugged her out of the building, and moments later the Professor fell into step behind them.

Outside it was cool and dark, the sand a ghostly gray. The bright crescent moon hung overhead, casting a glow on a small patch of ocean. The rest of the water was an empty black expanse. Azula's gaze swept across the rippling waves, then at last she spotted it: a large naval ship was anchored near shore. But the engines weren't running and there were no signs of movement on deck.

"How are we supposed to get aboard?" Azula asked. But as they neared the pier she saw the answer — a wooden riverboat tied up at the dock. It was a commonly-used model among the navy, with a spacious deck and steering cabin that could be operated by a single person.

Azula looked at it, then to the naval ship. "Why didn't you just dock the ship here?" she asked the Professor. "Why do we have to go to it?"

"We won't be taking the naval ship, Princess," the Professor replied.

Azula balked. Her gaze flew back towards the riverboat. "You mean we're sailing all the way to your village on that thing?"

The Professor gave a humored smile. "Yes, Princess. I realize it's unorthodox, but these riverboats are fully capable of withstanding ocean currents. In fact, they're quite popular with the villagers for maritime excursions. There won't be any storms tonight or the next, and for the path we're taking it'll be nothing but smooth sailing."

"That's not the point!" Azula shouted. "It's too slow! Someone's going to see us! What if Dr. Low's ship passes us?"

"Don't worry, Princess, don't worry! I've taken care of everything! Neither Dr. Low nor anyone else will be in any position to monitor us. Now come!"

Azula started to ask him what he meant, but the Professor had already rushed towards the boat.

The grip that held her hand tightened. Azula looked up at Isla, meeting the woman's gaze from beneath the hood of her cloak. There were thousands of thoughts swimming behind her gray eyes — most of them were troubled and sad. Isla placed a hand on Azula's shoulder, gentle and steadying, and together they made their way towards the boat. The Professor motioned them to a bench and went off into the small steering cabin. A few moments passed as he tinkered with things, and finally the floor rumbled as he started the motor.

The boat gave a lurch, and they began to move away from shore. The bow heaved up as they gained speed, and soon they were cutting across the inky black waves, the island and hospital building gradually inching away from them.

They passed by the naval ship. Once again Azula's gaze swept over it, but there still weren't any lights or signs of motion aboard. She was left to conclude that there was no one inside. The ship slid past them, and soon it too began to slip away into the distance.

But then, the hum of their motor subsided. Soon the rushing sound of their bow cutting through waves began to lessen and Azula became aware that they were slowing down. She looked to Isla, then to the Professor, who had just scampered out from the steering cabin.

"Why are we stopping?" Azula asked.

"Just one last thing to cover our trails," the Professor said. He flicked his two forefingers and generated a small red flame. He threw his arm back and tossed it, letting the tiny red comet sail and land somewhere on the deck of the naval ship. Some fuse caught, bursting into a brief flare of orange.

And then…

Boom.

Fire erupted before Azula's eyes as the naval ship exploded. The glow lit up the surrounding water, the Professor's and Isla's silhouettes, tracing the billowing clouds of smoke that rose up into the night air. Isla ducked her head and coughed, throwing her cloak over Azula's shoulders. The reverberations from the impact reached them, and the floor of the boat began to rock in the choppy waves. Azula had to clasp her head in her hands to steady her dizziness.

The quakes subsided, and the Professor cast them a grin. "All right, my friends. Onward to the future!"

He went off into the steering cabin. The boat started again, and this time the island and ship shrank away without stopping. The counter-wind picked up, making the Professor's coat whip behind him. Isla adjusted the portion of her cloak that was still wrapped around Azula, putting her arm around Azula's shoulders. Then she let her head droop. Tension and sorrow streaked briefly across her expression, and her eyes closed.

But Azula's gaze fixed on the burning ship. She watched it melt and smoke, thinking of a different one, until the fires vanished into a glowing speck on the horizon.