ISOLATION

CHAPTER TWO


"What difference does it make to the dead, the orphans, and the homeless, whether the mad destruction is wrought under the name of totalitarianism or the holy name of liberty or democracy?"

- Mahatma Ghandi


It was late at night when Shila returned to the compound. The lamps had long since been extinguished, plunging the area into darkness. Curfew was long ago, and no one dared be out without permission. The darkness didn't bother her in the slightest; despite its size, Shila could navigate the compound from memory.

Her home sat on a great span of flat, cleared land isolated within an uninhabited forest. On it sat five buildings, each large enough to house several people, with two homes dedicated to Father Satish's use and the remaining three housing her siblings and their mothers. Shila lived in one of Father Satish's homes, the one he used to house guests and hold meetings.

Her room sat at the end of a long hallway on the second floor of the home. It was a moderately sized space – it held a comfortable bed, dresser, mirror, and a door that led to a small washroom. Not that it was important to her; she hardly spent time in the room, and when she did it was normally to sleep.

Tonight, however, she wasn't interested in sleep. Her mind was too heavily burdened for rest, a feeling she was quite accustomed to. Instead she went to her washroom, washing the blood from her skin in a water basin. Moonlight filtered in through a high window, etching out her features in the pale light.

Shila didn't bother to dry herself. Instead, gripping the edges of the basin with white knuckles, she regarded her reflection in the mirror before her. Her hair, still fastened in its usual braid down her back, had come slightly loose, allowing for dark brown curls to escape and fall around her face.

She brushed her hair back with damp fingers, then trailing her hand down the side of her face; over the edge of her sharp cheekbones, all the way down to the smooth brown skin of her chest. Her skin was darker than many of her siblings, a trait she'd inherited from her mother. In fact, she resembled her mother quite a bit, as loathe as she was to admit it.

Her faint freckles, full lips, wide nose. If it weren't for her amber eyes, almost seeming to glow in contrast with the mocha color of her skin, Shila would be identical to her mother. The more she grew, the more she resembled the woman.

Shila felt heat rise to her face, an angry flush painting her cheeks. She turned quickly from the mirror, storming out of the washroom and closing the door sharply behind her. She knew better than to get caught up in that line of thinking. For Shila, the subject of her mother was taboo. It was simply too painful. Instead she let out a sigh, as she often did, and sat on the edge of her bed.

I've the strangest feeling, she thought. I'm so sad and I can't seem to understand why.

Shila valued control. She controlled her element, controlled her siblings, but she could never seem to control her emotions. Control required understanding, and she refused to even acknowledge her pain.

A knock at her door snapped her out of her melancholy.

"Enter," she said.

The door swung open, revealing a tall, gangly young man. "Lady Shila," he greeted her with a lopsided grin.

The corners of her mouth quirked slightly. "Shingi," she replied. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Shingi was one of the few Children of Fire she could tolerate; actually, she was quite fond of the boy. She'd known him since Father Satish brought her to the compound, their closeness in age originally drawing them together, and their friendship was a comfortable one, as well as one of the only ones Shila actually had.

"Father Satish wishes to see you," he said, pausing with a frown. "It's unlike you to not report right away. Is everything okay?"

It was unlike her – Shila was a stickler for protocol, so long as it was Father Satish's protocol. She too was surprised that she'd forgotten, but she dismissed her surprise quickly. It was late; her mind felt numb and her heart heavy. She told herself that her lapse in character was simply due to fatigue.

Emotional weakness is still weakness, she scolded, forcing herself to once again ignore the unease in the back of her mind. She'd been feeling increasingly strange lately, and her tolerance with herself was growing thin.

"I'm fine," she answered shortly, rising from her seat. "It simply slipped my mind."

Shingi frowned but didn't press the matter further. He knew that Shila wasn't an open person – she could hardly open up to herself – and he must respect her wish for privacy.

"You gave the girls quite a scare, I heard," Shingi changed the subject as he led her to Father Satish. "They were practically giddy with their punishment. I've never seen them so happy to get fifteen lashes."

Shila scowled, rolling her eyes dramatically. "They're idiots," she seethed. "They would've burned down the entire village had I not arrived." She paused, adding with a mock pout, "And I only threatened them."

Shingi snorted. "And killed one."

Shila sighed, waving a hand dismissively. "They're nothing more than animals. It's why I prefer solo missions."

"They still share your blood, it's bad luck to spill it yourself," he told her, his voice still holding hints of amusement.

"Oh, enough with the silly superstitions." She crossed her arms as if annoyed, but her mood was undeniably lightened. Shingi could always make her smile.

They then arrived at Father Satish's office, the great wooden doors left slightly ajar. Shila straightened herself, pushing back her shoulders and nodding at her friend before entering the room.

Father Satish sat at his desk, his back turned to her as he looked out a large window. Immediately, Shila threw herself into a respectful bow, her forehead pressed against the cold floor.

"Rise," he said, his voice deep and gravelly. Shila's heart fluttered at the very sound of his voice; Father Satish always had this affect over her, his mere presence filled her with joy, but also a great fear. Her fear was understood – even expected – because to feel anything less than fear in the attendance of such a powerful man was ignorant and disrespectful.

Shila obeyed immediately, jumping to her feet, her posture once again rigid. He now faced her, and Shila met his familiar eyes with a blank expression. She would never show weakness in front of Father Satish.

"I do not usually have to remind you of your duties. Begin your report," he said shortly, his annoyance with her behavior causing her stomach to drop. She couldn't bear his disappointment.

Shila began to recount the events of her mission in a toneless voice, careful not to miss a single detail. Throughout her explanation, Father Satish's face remained devoid of expression: his heavy brow shadowing his yellow eyes, black hair a sharp contrast with his pale skin. He had the sharp, angular features of the Fire Nation.

"Two were targeted, and instead you kill three and injure one," Father Satish said upon the completion of her report, the slight downturn of his mouth making his displeasure evident. Shila's blood ran cold with shame.

"I allowed for things to get out of hand. I will accept any punishment you deem just."

Father Satish shook his head in response. "I will allow for a warning, just this once," he told her. "Besides, I have another mission for you."

Another mission? But I've just returned from the last! She wanted to argue – it was tiring, taking so many lives – but she would sooner die than question an order from Father Satish. She owed him her absolute obedience.

Her mind wandered back to the day he'd discovered her: small and cold, he'd found her in a dirty two-room shack crying over a pile of ash that had once been a makeshift doll. It was also the day she'd discovered her bending, and she refused to believe that the two incidents were entirely unrelated.

After all, Father Satish had been the one to give her the gift of fire.

Yes, she would obey. She would always obey.


Shila returned to her room nearly an hour later, falling immediately onto her bed. She felt drained, especially when mulling over the task Father Satish had given her, but it did nothing to lessen her evident insomnia. She was correct in her earlier assumption that she would not sleep that night.

Children of Fire did not accept all missions, or rather Father Satish did not accept all missions; he was a man of deep moral conviction, a quality that she quite admired, and therefore he did not take a hit lightly. He would only sentence a guilty person to death – one guilty of crimes of inhumanity. War crimes, usually. This disgusting war had bred so much hatred into the world, so much suffering, that Shila had a plethora of targets to eradicate.

But a Prince? She'd never been tasked with a mission of such difficulty, not that this particularly surprised her; she was the strongest Child of Fire, aside from Father Satish himself, and was tasked with the most important missions.

The mission was unlike her usual tasks though, and certainly required more espionage than she'd needed in the past. She was to go undercover; to infiltrate the ship of a banished Fire Nation Prince and gather information on the whereabouts of the Avatar before exterminating her two targets.

"Their names are Prince Zuko and General Iroh. They're responsible for the deaths of innocents and therefore must be punished, but our client asks that we use his resources to discover the fate of the Avatar before acting," Father Satish had explained, but offered no additional information.

She'd accepted the job without complaint, but now unease gnawed at her gut. The task at hand seemed impossible: not only was she to take out two members of the royal family, one was the Dragon of the West! Shila was familiar with the tales of his conquests, and although his contributions to the war disgusted her, she couldn't ignore his apparent strength. He was a fire bending master, and that was a title not to be taken lightly.

The matter of infiltrating Prince Zuko's ranks was another troubling issue. She knew nothing of him or the level of security on the ship. Thus far, her best idea was to pose as a stowaway.

Shila simply couldn't seem to be able to shake her nerves, and the anxiety was beginning to annoy her.

"You need to control your emotions," she reprimanded herself. "Father Satish will not tolerate any more mistakes."

But she couldn't; her control was wavering, as she'd demonstrated on her previous mission, and she didn't understand the cause of it. It felt as though she was forgetting something.

As though guided by her subconscious, her thoughts yet again began to shift towards her memories of her mother. Her familiar face suddenly came to mind and the fire bender had to struggle to hold back tears.

She refused to cry over that wretched woman. She'd entirely convinced herself that she hated her, so why did her memory fill her with so much guilt and grief? The woman was dead, as she had been for a long time.

She was a weak woman, she reminded herself. She caused you incredible pain.

Still, Shila found herself walking across the room, slowly pulling out the top drawer of her dresser. Inside it sat a long, black box. She retrieved the box, closing the drawer and setting the item on the top surface of the dresser, opening the box and pulling out its contents.

Within it sat a long, lethal-looking silver blade. It had a black hilt, the wicked curve of the knife causing the polished silver to glint in the moonlight, revealing its faintly etched calligraphy:

"Only fire can extinguish darkness."

Shila held the blade with shaking hands, the tears that she'd been fighting to repress suddenly streaming down her cheeks. She realized with a shock what had been bothering her, the memory finally revealing itself to her from the depths of her subconscious.

It had been five years today, then. She could hardly believe so much time had passed since her mother's death, and despite her reluctance to admit it, the guilt and sadness she'd been experiencing was entirely related to her demise.

It wasn't exactly difficult to understand the reason behind her emotions: five years ago, on that very night, Shila had slid this dagger into her mother's neck.


Author's Note: This chapter was a bit of a snore, I have to admit. But interesting stuff is to come! I'm going to try to keep this story kind of fast paced because I have a lot of ground to cover.

Thanks for reading, and if you've enjoyed the story PLEASE REVIEW! Seriously, reviews encourage me to update quicker – daily updates definitely aren't my usual thing, so I'll need your help to keep motivated!

(Also, please excuse any typos I may make. I'm editing this entirely on my own – I don't have a beta!)