"I still can't believe that we actually met the Iroh," Asami said.
Korra was surprised that Asami could be starstruck when she had always been a bit of a celebrity herself. She'd engineered half of the civic structures in Republic City—Korra figured she was kind of a big deal.
"Don't look at me like that," Asami said. "I'd only heard stories about him. And Zuko, and well… you, in your past life."
"It is strange to think about, isn't it?" Korra muttered. She had spent most of her life turning her whole identity around in her head: how she was herself but not herself, how she was ancient but young, how she was human but also, to an extent, a spirit. Her whole identity as the Avatar was contingent on these ambiguities, and she would be dishonest if she did not admit that sometimes she stayed awake at night, thinking about how it was strange that she had been born different, how even though she'd had no choice in the matter, she had trained and worked and suffered to become what she thought she should be.
At first she had reveled in her own importance. Young and rash and naive, she had thought she'd fully accepted what it meant to be the Avatar. In the past few years, however, doubts of the her own necessity clung to her mind and disturbed her peace.
She knew that the future of the world did not belong to people like her. Each year she seemed to become more of a relic and less of a relevant figure. She found she disturbed the peace more often than she kept it. She suspected that the tenets of harmony that she had been taught by the White Lotus, those of national separation, conservation and tradition, were merely antiquated ideologies left behind from another era. In the real world, people of all nations mingled and coexisted and changed the face of the planet, more and more each day. The old men of that old brotherhood may not believe it, but despite their stranglehold on Korra's education, she had come to know the truth.
Korra knew the future belonged to people like Asami: the inventors, the scientists, the architects and creators. Things like mastering bending forms and learning to meditate meant nothing in a fast-paced metropolis like Republic City. While Korra had been locked away in the snowy reaches of the south pole, the entire world had been changing, evolving, like an organism that she would never fully understand. It seemed to be slowly turning into a world that had no need for bending, no need for an Avatar.
As Korra watched Asami stride elegantly ahead of her, she couldn't help but think that perhaps the world was better off under the care and leadership of modern, logical people like her. Perhaps it would be best if the ancient Avatar cycle broke and peace was maintained through progress, democracy, technology and communication.
There may be no use for an Avatar anymore, especially since that Avatar could not even solve the spiritual malady right in front of her. The seemingly unstoppable advance of the blight had made its way south, along their path, as if it wanted to taunt her with this fact. Everywhere they went, the disease had beaten them there. Even if one side of the road was green with waving grass, the other side would be spotted and withered. There seemed to be no way of stopping it. She had not been able to halt the spread of the disease, she had not been able to prevent or cure or even alleviate the spirit world of some of its symptoms. So far, she had been useless, and any chance they had to learn about the blight had been left behind in a shadowy wood, under the thousand claws of Koh.
When they were within a few miles of their destination, Korra reached out and grabbed Asami's hand. She turned, hair shining in the dim afternoon light, and smiled back at Korra with her damaged mouth.
"Asami," Korra started, but paused, unsure how to continue. "I… I was thinking."
"About what?"
"About… well… if we should close the spirit portals for good."
"Are you serious?"
"The blight is spreading really fast. And I don't know if it will manage to cross through the portals and kill our world. Maybe it's best if… we just shut the portals while we can and let the disease run its course."
When Asami looked at her, it was with such sadness and disappointment that Korra suddenly had the urge to strip Asami of her sash and cover her own face with it. "You can't really mean that."
"I know it sounds awful, but we haven't been able to do anything at all for this place. We've only been chased around, trying to avoid it, because we have no idea what to do. I mean… I mean, extinctions happen all the time, right? Not all of them are bad. Maybe it's only natural. Maybe the blight is necessary."
"Korra. I think we should rest for a little bit."
Korra, a little confused, let Asami pull her onto a soft bank of grass at the side of the path. She pulled the small makeshift sack Iroh had given them onto her lap.
"Lotus bun?"
"Sure." Korra took the food she was handed, but didn't feel like eating it.
Asami watched her, face unreadable. "You're being too hard on yourself."
"What? I'm not being hard on myself, I'm just suggesting that we—"
"Really, Korra, give me more credit." Asami stroked one of Korra's rogue bangs back into place. "I know you well enough to know what you're trying to say, as opposed to what you're saying. There's some nonsense coming out of your mouth right now, but I know what you're thinking."
"What am I thinking?" Korra venture.
Asami's one eye gazed deep into Korra's, and she had to look away. "I've gone through a lot of scientific education. I know that extinctions are inevitable. They happen naturally. But this is not natural. This is the result of human activity, more specifically, Kuvira's. This is not your fault."
"But if I had only stopped her—"
"Korra, shut up, just for a minute. Please."
She did.
"Listen. Here's what I think. I think you want to close the portals because you want to run from yourself. You're so racked with guilt and self-blame that you feel that the only way to get over it is to shut yourself off from all spirituality. You've changed, Korra. You used to be so enthusiastic about your role as the Avatar, and now I think you want nothing more than to cast it off. You want to let the spirit world die so that you no longer have to serve as the bridge. You think that there's no need for a bridge at all, so you might as well turn your back on it." Asami paused, and Korra could see her eyes were tearing up. "You are still so, so afraid of becoming obsolete. You think that the world doesn't need you anymore."
When Korra blinked, something wet dripped down and stained her hand. She stared down at her lotus bun, throat tightening.
"But," Asami's hand gently pushed Korra's cheek so she was looking up into her half-present face, serene and pale and wise. "The world does need you. I need you."
When Korra broke down into sobs, Asami held her close. Korra's breath came in tortured rasps, and as Asami rocked her, she felt a pair of warm lips press against her forehead.
"What do I do?" Korra whispered, helplessly.
"Right now, we do what we can."
When Korra looked back up into Asami's face, she was filled with a loneliness so acute she had to reach out for her. She pressed her cheek against Asami's, her tears wetting the skin between them. Korra was so taken in by the warmth of her face, she barely noticed when their lips touched, lightly, brushing against one another.
Korra stared up at Asami, her heart twisting with something a little more painful than love. It writhed in her chest, as if trying to escape her ribcage. She had to hold a hand to herself to keep it from flying out and spilling across the spirit soil. The feeling she had was horrible, painful, but at the same time, it felt like it was keeping her alive at this moment. The image of Asami, the image of the entire spiritual world, wrestled out a long ache from Korra's very bones, an ache she never knew she had.
It was this ache that convinced her that the spirit world was worth saving. No matter how fast the world above advanced and progressed, no matter how impersonal and sophisticated and efficient it may become, there will still be a need for this unchanging, ancient, beautiful place. This pain that Korra felt all of a sudden was a pain that every person is born with. It may be dormant most of the time, but it was in moments like this, when that lingering ache awoke, that a person's connection to the spirit world was strongest. Deep in the heart of humankind, there is still a primal, integral hunger for the spiritual, the emotional, the unknown. For meaning. Even if ancient spiritual practices dwindled in the hypermodernity of a rapidly advancing species, the spirit world would never be obsolete.
We are all fueled by the need to understand ourselves, Korra thought, looking into Asami's intelligent but concerned face. Suddenly it struck her why Iroh had retreated into this world instead of passing on to the next. This is the road to true understanding, true meaning. He was always in pursuit of knowledge.
Korra could not—would not—let the spirit world die. She stood, pulling Asami up with her, and embraced her tightly.
"Thank you, Asami. I'm so glad you're here."
Asami, perhaps because she hadn't witnessed the vital realization that took place in Korra's head, was a little taken aback. Still, she sensed the Avatar's determination, and when they parted, she faithfully followed Korra down the path toward the Tree of Time. This was the place where she would learn of the blight, the place that her visions had brought her.
This is where my past selves may be waiting, Korra told herself. They may be able to help… if they're there at all.
"Wow, that is some shrub," Asami muttered as they crossed the crest of the hill and the monstrous tree came into view.
"Yeah. It really is. This is where Vaatu was imprisoned for ten thousand years."
"I wonder why there are no other plants growing around it? Do you think it's been affected by the blight?"
"No," Korra said. That tree had been dead for millennia—it had no sustenance to offer the plague. Besides, Korra could not imagine the disease managing to destroy such a spiritually powerful place as this.
They climbed up the massive roots of the tree to what Korra had come to think of as its eye, and Asami gasped.
"Why… why are there…"
Korra glanced over at her, and saw she was looking at the inner walls of the giant tree, covering her mouth in awe. Korra, of course, could not see what Asami was seeing, but she knew the nature of the images that sometimes flickered around the tree's hollow interior.
"You might see some things while you're in here," Korra said. "Some of them may be strange… some may hurt to look at. If you want, you can wait outside."
Asami's eyes sparkled, and she smiled with the working half of her mouth. "No… I… I see my family. When I was little. I hope you don't mind me sitting here while you meditate."
Korra sat down against the wall of the tree. "Of course not." She was happy to share an intimate moment like this with Asami. In fact, she felt a little safer with her around.
Asami sat opposite her, looking up at the ceiling, the walls, the gnarled opening staring into the cloudy skies of the spirit world. "Hey. The tree's got one eye. Like me."
Korra smiled before she closed her eyes. "That's a sign of good luck, I think." She took a deep breath and reached down with her spirit to the very roots of the tree, searching for any sign of her past selves. She found none.
Kuruk? she called into the darkness, words resounding only in her mind. There was no reply, so she instead turned her attention to the tree itself and the soil beneath it.
An indescribable hatred filled her, suddenly, overwhelmingly. She tried to gasp, but her mouth filled with black soil, sticky and reeking with the smell of the blight. She saw vines, thousands of them, being chopped and burnt. She felt the serrated blades of machines saw their way through her flesh, tearing muscle from bone. She felt her own essence seized and coaxed and extracted from her in an invasive, violent wave of electrical energy. She felt herself explode with rage, with violation.
It all happened in less than a minute. When Korra opened her eyes, she was grinding her teeth in ire. She stood, filled to the brim with an inexplicable anger. "I'll kill her," Korra found herself hissing. "I'll kill her. She'll pay for what she's done."
Korra was blind to her surroundings—she hadn't seen that the sky outside had turned black, she didn't notice that any light from the countless visions inside the tree had been snuffed out by her rage. All she could think about was the excruciating pain in her limbs, threatening to tear her apart.
She wanted to summon all the strength inside her, invoke the Avatar state and do nothing but wreak havoc. But Asami had reached her before her rage had time to develop fully, and soon she found herself in the arms of her friend, being squeezed tight.
"Korra, it's all right," Asami's voice dispelled the anger. "It's all right. You're fine, you're with me. We're going to get through this, just like we did before."
Korra took a deep breath, rationality slowly returning to her disturbed mind. She wondered what sort of horror had pulled her into its clutches, what sort of anger had infected her so suddenly, so completely. She released her breath, and with it came a thankful sigh. "I know I've said this before, but I'm so glad you're with me."
"Me too," Asami smiled. "Someone's got to keep you in check."
They both turned to the Tree's massive eye, staring into the blackness, waiting for they sky to brighten. Before, when Korra had recovered from her more disturbing visions, the sky had cleared, but this time, it seemed to stay black, encased in shadow. For some reason, it looked alarmingly close, like it was falling in on them.
In an instant, Korra realized it wasn't the sky. The sheet of darkness that blocked the Tree's only exit shuddered and rippled, and Korra could make out the molting remains of feathers trembling on its surface. In its pitch-black centre, a huge eye opened, red and glowing with malice. The stink of the plague filled the Tree with the great eye's piercing gaze.
Wan Shi Tong had found them.