Korra lay submerged in a blue-grey haze, aching all over. When she opened her eyes, she could not see anything. For a moment she feared that she had somehow gone blind, that Koh had managed to take her face, but as her eyes adjusted to the dark, she noticed the lightly glowing contours of her surroundings. She was not blind; it was just a dark, dismal night.
Somehow through the blinding agony in her skull, she managed to recall the events of the past few hours. She remembered the dark sky, she remembered the stomach-churning fall into the canyon, she remembered Koh's oppressive shadow, stretching over the two of them as they tumbled downward. The last image Korra had of him was his white, perfectly oval face, staring down at her. His face showed no expression; she could read neither anger nor hatred in his gaze. That may have been what terrified her the most about it—that might be why that face haunted her dreams.
Wherever there is blight, there I am. Do not tarry, Avatar, for I will always catch up.
His last words to her echoed in her head rather than her ears, and the recollection of them sent a shiver down her spine. Somehow, he was able to bypass her senses and directly access her mind. She wondered if it was because in more than one of her past lives they had confronted one another. One gets to know one's enemies, over time.
Unfortunately for Korra, she did not have access to her predecessor's knowledge of Koh, which certainly gave the age-old spirit an advantage over her. Koh had many experiences from which to draw wisdom, and she had none. She had nothing. She didn't even have her pack anymore. Or the book on botany.
Asami's going to be pissed when she wakes up, she sighed inwardly.
The girl in question, still unconscious, lay beside her, curled up under the shrub Korra had found for them. It had been the first thing resembling shelter she'd seen when she had dragged both of them from the freezing water and onto the shore. Asami had remained knocked out during their ride down the river, a circumstance for which Korra was grateful. It was probably better that Asami had slept through it. It had been rough; Korra had spent the whole time swinging one arm, the other holding Asami tightly, waterbending through the rapids. A few times she had thought she was going to lose her grip on Asami, a few more times she thought that they would both drown. But eventually, not without an absurd amount of luck, they had made it to calmer waters. Korra bent an air bubble around the both of them and sank to the bottom, walking along the riverbed just in case Koh stalked them from the shore. Every once in a while Korra would rise to the top and peek out, to make sure that there was no sign of the malign spirit. When she was sure that they were far from the reach of Koh and the blight, she resurfaced and dragged herself and Asami to shore.
Exhausted, muscles burning with fatigue, she found a soft spot in the dirt under a shrub an curled up, passing out within the minute.
She was still painfully sore after that ordeal. She stretched, trying to get the ache to leave her tire muscles, and looked around. It was still dark. She sat up on her knees, wondering if she had managed to sleep for an entire day, or only a few hours. She crawled over Asami, whose body was hidden in safe shadow, and emerged on the riverbank. The air was saturated with the fresh smell of healthy blossoms, the trees were thick with leaves, and the water ran clear in the river. She thought that if any place were far enough away from the blight to be safe, it was here.
Korra, still shivering, walked along the riverside, gathering sticks where she found them. She carried her bunch of kindling back to where Asami lay sleeping, and began to set up the sticks. The small but healthy flare lit up Korra's surroundings, and she could see Asami, curled under the bush with her back to her, shivering. Korra reached over to her, thinking that she might want to warm up by the flames.
Korra grabbed her shoulder and shook her, and she rolled onto her back, groaning. Korra instinctively drew back when the orange light of the fire illuminated her face—or what was left of it.
Korra's heart twisted in a knot, her lungs expelled what remained of her breath. She gulped and reached out to touch Asami's remaining features.
Her mouth was mostly still there, lips shining pink in the firelight. Her nose, like her mouth, remained mostly in tact, but it seemed hazy, strangely absent; if Korra were to pass her eyes over Asami's face she could easily miss it completely. One of her eyes was missing—in its place was a smooth stretch of pale skin. Her eyebrow, too, was wholly absent.
Korra, trembling, ran a finger over Asami's missing eye. It felt strange, soft, like the skin on her cheek, but in a way it also felt cold and unnatural. Korra touched Asami's nose, lips, and untouched eye, shaking the whole time.
Asami's remaining eye fluttered open and she stared up at Korra.
"What…" was all she said.
Korra wished Asami would go back to sleep. If she only passed out for a few more hours, Korra could retrace her steps up the river, find Koh, steal her face back and pretend this never happened.
But Asami was yawning, sitting up, looking pale and sick, arms shaking. She did not seem like she would be going back to sleep, especially not now that she was raising a hand to her missing eye, tiredly rubbing her skin as if she could just brush this slumber-induced blindness away and see normally again.
Korra watched her, stomach fluttering somewhere near her throat.
Asami tried rubbing the skin that now lay in place of her eye, and after a few seconds of tired thinking, she took her hand away and looked at Korra in horror.
"Why can't I…" she stared, and desperately pawed at her own face, as if she could find her missing features if only she looked hard enough. She turned toward Korra, tears streaming down her left cheek. It seemed that the realization that she was permanently missing half her face had finally struck her. "What did he… did he…"
Korra bent over and embraced her. "I'm sorry, Asami. This is…" It physically hurt to admit it, but she knew it was true. "This is my fault."
Asami did not correct her. She did not assure her that Koh was the real one to blame. She only sobbed into Korra's shoulder, squeezing her around the waist so tight she couldn't breathe. Korra could not tell if Asami was holding on so tight because she was frightened, relieved, or infuriated with her irresponsibility. It wasn't Korra's job to judge Asami's reasons. She only wrapped her arms around her and squeezed her back until she stopped crying.
After a few minutes, Asami pulled away, sniffing, mouth contorted in distress.
Korra looked her in the eye and placed a hand over her tearstained cheek. "I'm so, so sorry. I did what I could… I tried…" Her excuses fell flat against the heart-wrenching pain in Asami's expression.
Korra thought she saw contempt flash in Asami's eye before she enclosed Korra's hand in hers. She sighed, and when she looked up, there was no loathing in her face, only sadness. "I believe you."
When Asami spoke, it was with only half her mouth. The other half, though still present, was still and useless. Korra couldn't take her eyes off Asami's lips as she struggled to form words.
Asami turned away and stared into the fire. Korra could practically feel her anger emanate from her skin, and the guilt that bubbled up in her stomach nearly made her sick. She only hugged her knees and said nothing, trying to give Asami any space she needed.
"So, how the hell do we fix this?" Asami asked, drooping lips impeding her speech.
Korra gulped. "I don't know. But we will." She was just trying to conjure some explanation as to why the vital book on botany was missing, but Asami beat her to it.
"You lost the book, didn't you?" she asked. Her tone was only half accusatory.
"I'm sorry, Asami, I really am—"
Asami lay a finger across her lips, silencing her. "I know. I know it was probably me or our stuff. I'm glad you chose me. I'm just…" the deluge of tears began again, pouring out her one eye. "I'm just…"
Korra pulled her close again and let her cry on her shoulder. "I know. It's… frustrating. But I'll fix it. I let it get this bad, I screwed everything up, so I swear I'll fix it. I promise. No matter what, I'll get rid of this blight. No matter what, I'll get your face back."
Asami looked at her, and pursed her lips in bitter resolution. "And I swear by all the gods, I'll help you. If anyone has a bone to pick with that bastard Koh, it's me."
Korra couldn't help but appreciate her determination.
Asami smiled back, twitching half her mouth. It was an unconvincing smile, but at least she was trying. "I guess I should look on the bright side—I only need half the makeup I used to."
Korra let out a weak laugh. As they sat there, pressed together, the sun rose over the distant hills, lighting the river a greenish blue.
When the light permitted it, Asami went down to the water to examine her reflection, against Korra's internal advice. When she saw herself, she heaved a long, trembling sigh. She reached up softly to touch the skin where her eye had been, then turned back to Korra. Her mouth was taut, resolute. Korra wondered what it would be like to look at your reflection and see a different face than the one you've always had. She imagined it would be horrifying, and Asami's expression only served to confirm that suspicion.
"I think I'd be better off…" Asami started, looking at the ground. "I'd like to cover it."
Korra was about to ramble on about how she didn't need to, how she looked fine, how she shouldn't hide herself because she had nothing to be ashamed of, but the pain in Asami's face made her cave in. If covering the abnormalities in Asami's face would make her more comfortable, then Korra would do it. She removed a sleeve, ripped it along its seam and handed it to her. Asami wrapped it diagonally around her face, covering the spot where her right eye used to be. When she was done, she smiled weakly at Korra.
"How does it look?" she asked.
"Badass," Korra replied, truthfully. "You look like a lady that is not to be messed with."
Asami reached out and took Korra's hand. "Good. The next time Koh sees me I want him to cower in fear."
"I'm sure he will."
They began to walk. Korra tried to think of her next move, tried to come up with some sort of plan, but she was clueless. She knew there wasn't much she could do. If she went into the water and summoned up Kuruk again, she might be able to get some information out of him. But if Kuruk came around, Koh was sure to be close by.
She twisted her brain in a useless knot trying to think of a way around her circumstances. They could make their way back to the library and see if they could find another book… but then there was always the problem with Wan Shi Tong. She could face Koh again, and if she defeated him, see if that would stifle the outbreak, but she didn't know how she would wrestle Asami's face back from him. It didn't take her long to realize that her options were severely limited. It seemed she needed some serious guidance.
In the quiet hum of the early morning, Korra heard a sound that stopped her in her tracks. It was different than the rustling of the leaves, the susurrations of the river, or the quiet scrambling of tiny animals and spirits in the woods. It was a flat, almost sad tone, lifting and falling like breath. Korra strained her ears to hear. Asami perked up beside her, looking for the source of the sound. It seemed to be wafting from the shadows between the trees.
Korra instinctively lifted her fists, getting ready to attack whatever might emerge from the woods, but she lowered them when the sound became clearer.
It was music. Specifically, it was a well-known elegy. Korra thought she recognized the instrument—it was an old Tsungi horn. The sound was soothing, like water, and Korra felt herself relax. She stepped into the darkness of the trees to discover the horn's devoted player, decked out in a black funeral robe.
"Iroh," Korra said to the shadowy figure.
He lowered his horn from his lips. When he spoke, his voice came out raspy. It sounded sick, weak, as if touched in some way by disease.
"Avatar Korra. It's been a while."