For the first time in a hundred years, the streets of the Caldera were teeming with people of all nations. Carts lined the streets as vendors brought out their goods for the day, and excitement was in the air as everyone prepared for Agni's return. It was the Winter Solstice; a time of celebration and anticipation of the days becoming longer and the nation's deity returning to light their way.

Peace and happiness had begun to spread throughout the world once more. Under Firelord Zuko's guidance, and with the help of Avatar Aang, the world had begun to heal. This night, the eve before Agni's return, was not only a return to the beloved traditions the nation sorely needed, but a celebration of how far they've come. Its citizens were relieved to witness such a joyous occasion.

But there was one person who did not celebrate.

Not far from the Caldera there sat a man in a cell. His hair was long and greasy, framing his pallid and sunken face, and he was dressed in tattered clothes. Only his posture revealed who he once was: a proud and ruthless leader, who was on the verge of greatness before it was all taken away from him.

It had been many months since that fateful day. When he was first placed there he raged and screamed, brought low by a child and left with nothing. But now the man sat still. His legs were folded beneath him, and his hands rested on his knees with his palms up. There were no flames in his palms as this pose should have, for that was taken from him. But the man seemed to find some solace in this meditation, for suddenly his face grew more peaceful and calm, as if he were asleep.

The mutterings of the guards drifted towards his cell, but he did not hear them. His mind was now far away.

It was the Winter Solstice, a day where strange things happen.

"I can't believe you would do this to me." Sokka flung himself dramatically on the chair in front of Zuko's desk, slinging his arm over his eyes.

Zuko ignored him and continued to read his report.

"My own boyfriend, who I thought loved me, abandoning me in my time of need-"

"Sokka, I just have a bit more work to do. I'll come down in a few hours."

"He's right, Sokka." Suki spoke up from her position at the door. "Just go with the others and enjoy yourself. We'll meet you there for lunch."

Sokka sat up and pouted. "But you said we could spend the day together." So he was being a little dramatic. But he and Zuko hadn't seen each other for three weeks, and now his super important boyfriend was too busy with work to even have breakfast with him.

Zuko looked up, and his eyes softened as Sokka pleaded with him. "We will, I promise. As soon as I finish, I'll grab Azula and meet you guys there."

Azula, who was now staying in the caldera with Zuko, had refused to come with them without Zuko there. Sokka tried to convince her, because he knew how much Zuko cared about his sister and her well-being, but she stayed locked in her room. Sokka wondered if Zuko could get her to come at all. She still didn't like any of them, and chose to stay in her room most days. But progress was progress. At least she wasn't trying to kill them anymore. Maybe Zuko could get through to her; she had a soft spot for him and a day out would do some good for her.

The door to the office banged open. "Let's go, Snoozles!" Toph shouted. "Uncle promised me sweets and I'm willing to leave you behind to get them."

Zuko stood up and took Sokka's hand. "Just go, Sokka." He said, squeezing his hand lightly. "As soon as I'm done I'll meet you there."

"Fine," Sokka conceded. "But you're paying for lunch."

"Done," Zuko grinned, and he leaned forward to kiss him.

Sokka's gut twisted as Zuko pulled away. It wasn't the kiss- those were always excellent. And normally Sokka was fine with spending time away from his boyfriend. But something about this morning felt different. There was excitement, but also tension; an anxiety that Sokka couldn't ignore. Something that told him to savor every moment he could with Zuko today, to linger and stay close.

But there was nothing to worry about. He was going to spend a relaxing morning with his friends, and then attend the festival in the evening with his boyfriend. So even as his instincts told him not to, he allowed himself to be dragged away by Toph.

When Ozai opened his eyes, he was no longer in his cell. Instead of the oppressing walls of steel and rock, he was surrounded by large, dark trees, swaying slightly despite the lack of wind. Rotten and barren, they stretched out endlessly before him, looming overhead and lingering menacingly in the edges of his vision. They were so dense that he could not even see the sky.

Despite the foreboding surroundings, Ozai fell to his knees and laughed. It wasn't a laugh of joy or mirth. He laughed and laughed, crazed and triumphant; the results of a desperate man who lost everything and now had one last chance to take it back.

He had done it. He had forced his way into the spirit world itself, and now he was going to get his revenge. The spirit world was said to be where the Avatar originated, so it must also be the key to his downfall.

But where to start? Little was known of the spirit world aside from tales used to frighten the gullible. Although, Ozai admitted to himself, those stories did not seem so absurd now that he was there. The trees, partially obscured by a thick fog, loomed above him from all sides. There was a darkness here, not just from the fog; a hostile atmosphere that lurked on the edges of his vision and chilled his skin. But it was too late now. He must see this through.

He had no way of knowing how long he walked. Each step brought him forward, but the trees in front of him did not grow closer, and the trees behind him seemed to be moving with him, although never when he was looking. On and on he walked. Still the trees remained, swaying eerily and marching forward beside him. But perhaps it was the forest playing tricks on his mind, for every time he turned he would see a different tree than he saw last, their branches reaching towards him as if to drag him back.

He was turning his head constantly as he hurried forward: behind him, to the sides, peering around and frantically searching. Something was there, he was sure of it. Something was coming. There were eyes in the forest. They were watching him.

They were passing by, flitting through the trees and disappearing as he turned. Fluid and obscured, he could feel their presence even if he could not fully see them as they oozed through the branches. The terror in him grew, building up inside him until he was nearly sick from it. He couldn't even think clearly, his mind as foggy and disoriented as the forest itself. He had to get out, leave, they were coming, behind him, he needs to leave-

He was in a clearing. He did not walk there, but he was there nonetheless. The trees, tall and silent, still swaying dangerously, surrounded him, though they did not dare cross the clearing. The ground beneath him was burnt, as if there were a great fire that turned everything to ashes. Here the sky was visible. It was blood red, with no stars or sun to comfort him. Darkness pressed from all around him, and he found himself almost missing its embrace. It lingered at the clearing's edge, as if held back by a more powerful force.

Yet there was still darkness there, in the clearing. Ozai stepped forward, hesitant, towards the shadow gathered at the far edge of the tree line. He could not tell what he was looking at; there he saw a blackness, so dark that its features were almost indiscernible with the surroundings. It appeared to be a cave, yet there was no hole or cliffside. The cave was just there, indifferent to the impossibility of it all.

He could sense something was there, a powerful force that nearly sent him to his knees. A malice so great that he struggled to keep his very sanity in check. It was not human, nor was it one of the many spirits Ozai sensed in the forest. This was something that existed even before time itself did- immeasurably old and maliciously devious.

His breaths coming in ragged gasps, Ozai reminded himself of what was at stake, why he was there.

"Who are you?" He called, but his voice did not carry as it should have. It faded quickly, as if even sound could not penetrate the gloom. He opened his mouth to call out again, but suddenly he snapped his mouth shut.

There was something moving in the darkness; a large, shambling figure, lurching slowly towards him from inside the cave.

The Fire Nation really knew how to throw a celebration. With the Winter Solstice came longer days, which Sokka's tribe always welcomed, but for the Fire Nation it meant that Agni's strength returned to nurture their crops. A day of dancing, feasts, and fireworks were planned. Zuko had wanted to give his people a cause for celebration after so much suffering.

And it was working. Wandering the market with his friends, Sokka was surrounded by smiling faces and mouth watering scents. The streets were lined with carts, each of them selling specialty foods and crafts. They took the time to peruse the goods, and Sokka's coin purse quickly became lighter as he eagerly sampled foods and bought trinkets.

There were many storytellers and fortune tellers as well, the latter of the two Sokka had no interest in. While Katara and Aang had their fortunes read, he sat with Toph and Iroh to snack on fire flakes and listen to one of the storytellers. This one had quite a crowd gathered around her, and she even used her firebending to create shadows and dramatic lighting to aid her story.

It was apparently a classic story told during the Winter Solstice in the Fire Nation: a human mortal must track down a spirit to win back their lover's soul.

"Our brave hero crossed into the spirit world itself to save his lost love," the storyteller said. "His love for her was stronger than the trials he had to face."

Sokka listened, enraptured, as the story unfolded. The hero, after crossing into the spirit world, tirelessly searched the realm until he found the devious spirit. There, the hero confronted the entity, who taunted him cruelly. Unable to kill the spirit in its own realm, the hero challenged it to a battle of wits, something that spirits are said to be unable to refuse.

Their ensuing confrontation was harrowing and tense- the hero agreeing to give up his own soul if he failed. Sokka sat at the edge of his seat, chewing his fingernails in suspense as the two clashed. But the hero was clever and stumped the spirit with a particularly challenging riddle. Outraged, the spirit was forced to give up its prize.

"Triumphant, the hero returned to the living world with his lover, and there they lived happily together for the rest of their days," the storyteller finished. Sokka clapped with the others, discreetly wiping the tears from his eyes, and rose to place a tip in the jar at the front of the stage.

Iroh took them to a nearby tea shop, where he ordered them some jasmine tea and dumplings. Instead of listening to Katara and Aang ramble on about their fortunes, Sokka challenged Iroh to a battle of riddles.

"I have cities, but no houses. I have mountains, but no trees. I have water, but no fish."

Iroh sat in thought for a moment, before smiling. "A map," he answered, and he leaned forward with his own riddle. "My thunder comes before the lightning. My lightning comes before the clouds. My rain dries all the land it touches."

Sokka was stumped for a minute, mind working furiously, but he eventually solved it. "A volcano!" He exclaimed. "Okay, okay, here's a good one. What do you call a boomerang that doesn't come back? A stick!"

Iroh chuckled, shaking his head with amusement. "Your wit truly astounds me, Master Sokka."

"I don't know how Zuko puts up with you," Katara rolled her eyes, and consequently failed to dodge the dumpling that Sokka pinged off her forehead. It was a veggie dumpling, so he was willing to sacrifice it.

They continued to chatter with each other, idly wasting time while waiting for Zuko and Suki to join them. Sokka found himself growing antsy, anxiously bouncing his leg and glancing outside to check the sun's position.

Zuko should be here soon.

Ozai was frozen in place as the spirit approached. It was tall, unnaturally tall, and its outline was darker even than the surrounding shadow. Smoke twisted angrily around it as it moved. Its body pulsed a dull orange from its core like a dying ember that was deprived of oxygen.

It stopped in front of him, and Ozai found himself trembling uncontrollably, nearly catatonic with fright. This was a being beyond his comprehension. This was something that no human was meant to see.

It tilted its head and spoke. "It has been many eons since I have seen a mortal." Ozai cowered as he realized the spirit had no visible mouth. Its grating voice raised a fear in him that he had not ever known before.

"Well?" It said, leaning down to peer at him. "What is a man doing in my realm?" Ozai could give no answer. He could not move, not even as it reached forward with one of its grotesque limbs to touch his forehead. At its touch he gasped, his very breath caught in his lungs.

He was trapped, he couldn't move, the Avatar- he was invading his mind, his chi, it was draining out of him, it hurt, he was so cold-

"That is odd," it mused, and Ozai moaned lowly as it released him. "You had fire in you, once. I can sense that it was very powerful. But it is gone."

The Avatar ripped it out of him. Ozai suddenly remembered his anger, his need for revenge. "It was taken from me," he growled. "By the Avatar."

"So Raava has sent you." It hissed, and Ozai pressed himself lower to the ground as its anger flared and its voice grew sharper, piercing his mind and filling it with smoke. "I used to roam the world of the living, taking as many souls as I desired, before she trapped me here. Countless ages I have spent here, wasting away, and she sends a man with no fire to taunt me!"

Jerking back, Ozai took a few calming breaths. It was angry with the Avatar. He could work with that.

"Great Spirit, I believe that we can help each other."

"What can a human with no fire offer me?"

"I had my fire stolen from me. If you could return it, Great Spirit, I could give you as many sacrifices as you would want."

Its laugh sounded like the whistle and crackle of a forest fire. "I do not have that power, little one. I cannot create as the lion turtles can. The Avatar took your fire, only Raava could return it." It paused, and Ozai resisted the urge to shudder as it stared at him with its simmering eyes. "If I could leave this realm," It mused. "If I could leave, I could take your fire from Raava and return it to you. But I am trapped here, you see."

"I can leave this realm," Ozai said. "I can return to the world of the living. You could come with me, and I will bring you to the Avatar." And once his fire was returned to him, he would take back his throne. The Avatar, his cowardly son, all of the traitors- they would be a fitting sacrifice for this spirit.

"You would bound yourself to me?" It asked, and Ozai hesitated at the danger he suddenly felt. Deals with spirits were not to be lightly made. "That is not something that can be undone, human."

"Neither of us have a choice." Ozai countered. It was this, or to return to a life of misery in his cell. He didn't have anything to lose. "I will do anything to retake my throne."

"Your throne," It repeated. "So I return your fire and you retake your position of power. What would I gain from this agreement?"

"Anything you want," Ozai replied. "Once I am returned to the throne I can give you as many souls as you would want."

"I do not consume just any souls, mortal. I crave only those who have fire."

"And I will rule a whole nation of fire."

"And what of power? I sensed it in you, something that I haven't tasted in eons. I need powerful chi if I am to do what you ask of me."

A smile crept on his face in spite of his fear. He knew of two firebenders who would make a hearty meal for this spirit. "Then I will take you to my children first. They share in my power."

The spirit straightened up, its ember eyes flaring. "Very well," it said. "You free me from this prison, bring me the Avatar, and I will return your fire to you."

Ozai grinned. He gained a powerful ally, one who the Avatar and his son could not stand against. And once he had his throne, nobody would dare to stand against him.

The spirit placed its hand on his temple once more, and Ozai's eyes rolled to the back of his head as he felt a great power being forced on him, his mind struggling to carry its weight. Visions began to flood his mind: horrific images of violence that even Ozai could not stomach. It was too much- they poured in faster than he could comprehend. Eons of time overwhelmed his senses, pushing out his own memories to make room. He was no longer Ozai, he was-

once free to wander the world, hunting, stalking, consuming. Men would flee before him, and he relished in the chase. Once in his grasp they would scream and scream until suddenly they would fall silent- their chi filled him, but it was never enough; he craved their souls, he needed them, he was always hungry, so hungry. And, soon, he would feed once more.

He was Yōkai the Soul Stealer.

Kaito turned away from the others, who were forlornly watching kites and lanterns fly cheerfully above the caldera. He understood their reluctance to patrol on such a day, but the pay was good and the job was important. They were here for a reason, afterall. The Round Tower held some of their most dangerous criminals, and constant vigilance was needed to keep them contained.

He took it upon himself to deliver their lunches. Many of them did not acknowledge him as he shoved the trays in their cells. He did not mind- it was better than the sneers and vulgar language he was used to. Kaito walked through multiple locked and guarded doors to reach the last prisoner. The last door clanged heavily behind him, the slide of the lock echoing harshly in the dark cell.

Bending down to place the tray, Kaito realized that the breakfast tray lay cold and untouched. It wasn't uncommon for prisoner's to refuse food, but this particular prisoner had not done so before. Kaito squinted at Ozai's dark figure. He sat still behind the bars, almost as if he were meditating.

He shrugged to himself, reaching to switch out the trays, when Ozai's eyes opened. They were glowing red, a deep ember red that lit up the small cell. Kaito gasped, falling backwards in his attempt to get away.

For a moment, nothing happened. They stared at each other, or maybe it was just Kaito staring at Ozai, who did not seem to notice him. His legs did not want to work- he could only stare in horrified silence as Ozai opened his mouth.

Something was coming out. Something was forcing its way out, contorting the man's body as he writhed on the ground. Ozai began to retch violently. Blood began to speckle the stone floor, but as Kaito watched it turned to a black tar-like substance, pooling on the floor. More and more came up, and that's when Kaito began to scream. It was rising, now. It was forming a body, a tall grotesque shape that leered above him.

He crawled to the door as it began to laugh, his breath coming in short gasps in between his screams. Weak with fear, he scratched at the door desperately, hearing the bolt slide on the other side. But it was too late. The entity was standing over him, reaching for him with its monstrous limbs, and his screams fell silent.

Zuko leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head. The last report, its ink still shining, lay in front of him, along with the other stacks of papers he had finished. Now he had the rest of the day to spend with his friends and family.

He strode out of his office, where Suki stood just outside the door.

"About time," she grinned, reaching out to straighten his robes. "Sokka will be pissed if we don't get down there soon."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "It's not even noon yet."

"You think that matters to him?"

Shaking his head, Zuko started down the hall. "He can be so dramatic."

Suki laughed and followed him towards Azula's room. But their mood darkened as they walked. Aside from Sokka, Suki spent the most time with him, and she knew how complicated his relationship with his sister was. But no matter what she did, Zuko was committed to helping her. She was slowly opening up to him and the healers. Today, he hoped, would be a step forward in their relationship.

"She might not go," Suki started, glancing at him briefly.

"I know. But I'm still going to offer."

"You're a good brother, Zuko."

Uncomfortable, Zuko rubbed the back of his neck. "I just want to help her. She never got the opportunities I had to get away from him."

"And she'll see that, eventually. We just need to give her time. Maybe when-" but she stopped abruptly.

Zuko had also stopped. They were standing at the entrance to the east wing- where the royal bedrooms were located. It was dark; the torches were not lit, and there were no sentries standing guard as there should have been. Instead, there were obscured forms on the ground further down the hall, and an eerie silence as they approached them.

Suki inhaled sharply, bending over to examine them more closely. Zuko crouched down as well, and nearly retched as he realized what they were.

They were his guards. Or, they used to be. Now all that remained was ripped flesh and bloody clothing. He staggered back, leaning against the wall for support, before crying out and leaping backwards again. The walls were spattered with blood, painting a picture of the carnage that occurred. The blood was still warm.

Suki turned to him, her pale face mirroring his own horror. "Do you think- Azula," she began, her eyes wide. Zuko understood what she meant.

"This wasn't done by a human," Zuko said firmly, hurriedly wiping his hands on his robes. But Suki's words reminded him of why they came there.

"No, oh Agni," he stammered, reaching up and tugging at his hair. "We have to find her, what if she's-" but he couldn't even finish his sentence, too afraid to voice what could have happened. Bile began to rise in his throat as the sickly sweet, heavily cloying smell of death floated around him.

Suki drew out her fans. "We'll find her," she said, her face set.

Zuko led the way, carefully picking their way through the dark corridor. They found more bodies as they advanced. Many of them were unrecognizable; their innards spilling onto the floor and the suffocating iron scent of their blood filling their nostrils. There were a few, however, who were untouched.

Zuko knelt beside one, who lay unmoving on the floor. He was still breathing, but his skin was ice cold, and he didn't rouse when Zuko shook him. It was a living death, corpse-like in appearance but still clinging to life. Despite his urge to help this man, Zuko could barely stand to touch him. Something awful had happened, and he found himself wondering what was worse: a quick, painful mauling, or an eternal suffering on death's door? They lived, but death was always going to be there, clawing at their rattling breaths.

There was nothing they could do for him. Zuko pulled off his cloak and covered the man's face before they continued down the corridor.

The farther they walked, the greater their apprehension grew. They were tracking something that was capable of horrifying destruction; completely without mercy and powerful beyond their abilities. Fear sat heavy in his gut. His mind screamed at him, pleading for him to turn around and flee.

Her door was ajar. They both faltered before entering; from her room pulsed a powerful force, an energy so malevolent and ancient that Zuko nearly fell to his knees. He knew instinctively that whatever was in there was responsible for the massacre in the hall. Something that was beyond their comprehension.

But his sister was in there.

Zuko pushed the door open.

And he walked into a nightmare.

Whatever energy they felt while standing in the hall was a fraction of the power that resided inside. And, in the center of the room, was the source. It was tall; its limbs thin and gangly, its body outlined in shadow. From its core pulsed a deep red, as if a flaring ember burned inside. It turned towards them as they entered, its aura so powerful he felt as if the room was swaying.

"Another flame," it crooned, its voice almost shaking the room. "Just in time, little one. Your fire will bring me to my full strength."

"Where is my sister?" Zuko growled. Suki settled at his side, her fans ready.

"So you are of her blood," the shadows shifted, and revealed Azula lying at its feet. "It has been eons since I have tasted such delectable fire. I am eager to taste yours."

"You're not going to touch him," Suki hissed, edging closer to Zuko.

It laughed, reminding him of the roar of a furnace. "I am going to take what was promised to me. I am grateful you delivered yourself, we did not have to search for you like we did for this one."

It was then that Zuko spotted a person standing in the shadows. Dressed in prison rags, his hair was unkempt and greasy, no longer kept in the top knot he once proudly wore. But his piercing eyes remained the same. Ozai sneered as their eyes met.

"You!" Zuko snarled, and Suki grabbed his arm to keep him from lunging forward. "What did you do? How did you get out?"

"That prison could not hold me forever, boy." Ozai slunk forward, coming to stand beside the spirit. "I am here for my throne."

"So you turned to the spirits for help?"

The spirit laughed again. "I am not just a spirit, little flame. I am Yōkai, devourer of souls," it said. "This one has bound himself to me- his soul is mine. And he promised me yours."

Zuko was stunned. In a bid for power Ozai had unleashed something beyond any of their control. He doubted even Aang could handle this.

"That's what you did?" He shouted. "You sacrificed Azula, all those soldiers, for the throne?"

Ozai's eyes darkened. "It's what they deserved," he spat. "And you're next, Zuko."

"Yes," Yōkai hissed. "I have no patience for this foolishness. Surrender yourself to my power."

Suki flashed her fans. "We're not going down without a fight!"

It tilted its head as it considered her. "You do not have fire within you, mortal. I have no use for you."

So that's what it did. Zuko firmly suppressed memories of the cold, lifeless bodies littering the halls. It was after firebenders. But, evidently, it still took the time to rip every human it found to shreds. He was sure that this thing would delight in doing the same to Suki.

"She is one of the Avatar's friends," Ozai interjected. "She can lead us to him."

"No," Zuko shifted into a firebending stance. "I won't let you near him." He thrust his fist forward, blasting a searing fireball directly at Yōkai. It made no attempt to dodge. The fireball struck it directly in the chest, and it shuddered. But instead of injuring it, the fire was absorbed, fizzling out and fading into its chest.

"Your fire fuels me," Yōkai said, the glow in its chest growing brighter. "I cannot wait to taste it fully." Raising its arms, the shadows encircled the room, cutting off their escape, and then it lashed out with a roar.

Zuko and Suki rolled out of the way. Yōkai followed. The blows were lightning fast, its long fingers sharp as a sword. It took all of his concentration to dodge- there was no time or opportunity to strike back. Even if he could, it would be useless. Yōkai was bolstered by his fire. But would ordinary weapons even hurt such a powerful being?

It was a hopeless fight, one that they could not win. Their only hope was to circle back to the door and flee. He whipped around, intending to regroup with Suki, but someone grabbed his arm from behind and twisted it upwards. Zuko cried out in pain as he was forced to his knees.

"Stay still, Zuko," Ozai said, his hot breath tickling Zuko's neck. "You're going to become a part of something greater-" but he jerked back, and suddenly Zuko was released.

"I told you not to touch him," Suki snarled. Her fans were pressed against his throat. Ozai spluttered as she increased the pressure, a thin red line forming under her fans.

Zuko tried to stagger to his feet, but it was too late. A great force slammed into him, and he flew across the room, crashing against the opposite wall. Gasping, he clutched at the sharp pain in his ribs as the room spun around him.

"Enough." Yōkai's voice reverberated through the room. "Your efforts are futile."

Suki was shouting something, but her voice was drowned out by the ringing in his ears.

Azula was lying a few feet away from him. Slowly, painfully, he crawled forward. Her hair fanned out beneath her, and she lay as cold and still as the living-dead they found in the hall. He took the time to study her face. She had mother's nose. Light freckles dusted her face, something that she was always embarrassed about. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.

A shadow loomed above him. He grunted as it grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to his knees.

"No!" Suki screamed. He raised his head, meeting her desperate gaze.

"Go," he croaked. "Warn the others."

"Yes," Yōkai agreed. "Run and fetch the Avatar, little one." The shadows obscuring the door parted.

Suki wavered, her eyes still locked with Zuko's.

He nodded.

A tear slipped down her cheek as she turned and fled.

Ozai had never seen such bloodshed. Fresh innards scattered on the floor, the spattered blood glistening on the walls, the quiet gasps of Yōkai's victims as he tore their souls from their bodies. Ozai did his best to ignore the beginnings of regret that were forming.

He could feel Yōkai's glee as it killed, and its power grew with every soul it consumed. They were connected, somehow. Whatever Yōkai did in that clearing had merged them. How they left the spirit world he did not know- he only recalled regaining control of his body in his prison cell. But by then it was too late. Their fates were now entwined, and the only way out was to see this through.

So he did not hesitate to lead Yōkai to Azula's room. Despite the unsettling horror of it all, he did enjoy watching her demise. She had failed him, and now she was working with her cowardly brother. But Azula was never a coward. She struggled and fought against Yōkai, and foolishly refused to reveal where her brother was, before eventually falling silent, just as the others had.

And now it was Zuko's turn. Ozai shared in Yōkai's excitement as the boy struggled under its hold. He relished in the fear brimming in the boy's eyes, the trembling and choked gasps of terror. Yōkai drained him slowly, savoring every moment as one relished their first sip of morning tea.

The panicked breathing stopped. Zuko's body slumped to the floor beside his sister.

Yōkai hunched over the boy, rocking back and forth. The aura surrounding the spirit peaked, and Ozai's hair stood on end as the energy electrified. He could almost taste the static in the air. For a brief moment, all was calm.

Then Yōkai stood with a roar and became an inferno. Fire exploded outward, blinding Ozai as he flinched backwards. Yōkai's gleeful laugh filled the room, and when he regained his vision he found the spirit still standing over the boy's body. Eerily tall, its grotesque, long limbs were wreathed in crimson flames, and they burned bright on its head like a torch. This was Yōkai as it used to be, when it roamed the world of the living and gorged on as many souls as it could find.

Ozai found himself cowering, overwhelmed by its power, wishing he was back in his cell, where life was unbearably dull, but safe. Where his life was not bound to an ancient monstrosity. An entity that was older than time itself.

Yōkai reached out, slowly, grasping for something unseen. Suddenly its hands tensed, and the spirit began to pull the very air apart, straining to rip open a hole that was gradually widening.

Shouting in alarm, Ozai backed himself into a corner. He did not want to know what was beyond that void. But he could not leave. His soul was now always, eternally, anchored to Yōkai. And so he was forced to stand and witness reality being torn apart.

With a final tug, Yōkai wrenched it open. Ozai's eyes rolled to the back of his head, and he fainted to the ground as the palace exploded around him.