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"Their deaths are on your hands..."

Zuko's head whipped around, eyes searching frantically through the darkness for the source of the whispers. Sweat poured down his face, and his breathing came in ragged gasps. "Who's there?" he called into the dark. His voice echoed back at him, louder, more intense. He covered his ears with his hands, his head pounding under the stress.

"It was your fault..."

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the voices. The whisper echoed as well, adding to his own question, melding to become a ear-splitting cacophony. Zuko wanted to scream. He wanted to run, to get away from it all.

"Who are you talking about?" Zuko shouted back at the darkness, but his only reply was more echoes. His body vibrated in their intensity. His head felt like butter against a hot knife, the searing pain turning his vision white.

A sensation washed over Zuko, like boiling vile engulfing his body. He cracked an eye open, and was met with two glaring red eyes staring back at him. They peered through him, into his soul, evil and angry. Zuko let out a scream, but nothing escaped his lips. He was paralyzed, at the mercy of this creature of the dark.

"We are coming... for you..." the whisper sliced through his entire essence, ripping him apart. He cried out in agony as his entire body was crushed, burned, boiled. His mind raged in protest, futily flailing against the utter torment that tore through him.

Kill me! Zuko thought, trying to make his lips work. End it! Please! He would have wept if he could.

A light opened up behind the demon's eyes, barely recognizable in his state of anguish. Zuko reached out to it, trying to grab onto anything that would save him. It grew larger, and with it the pain began to dissipate. The demon roared in frustration, its eyes chasing him, trying to stop him from reaching the expanding light. Zuko ignored it, racing toward the salvation. He would be free. In a second, he would be-

A hand grabbed his ankle, the flesh scorching his own. Zuko cried out, his paralysis dissipating. He wrenched his ankle, trying to escape the creature's grip. Terror wracked his chest. The light was so close. He could escape. He had to!

His ankle finally came free, and Zuko dived into the light. It engulfed him, washing away pain and terror together. It was glorious! It was miraculous!

It was over.

Groaning, Zuko opened his eyes, sunlight from the open window splashing against his face. A slight breeze blew through, rustling the silk sheets that wrapped him tightly. Blinking, he felt his mind recover, felt it begin to grasp onto reality, onto where he really was. He was in bed.

Rolling over, Zuko let out a sigh. The image of the demon was plastered against his mind's eye. The memory of pain and fear made him cringe. He tried to banish it, to clear his mind, but it didn't work.

Bloody dream... It had been odd. And frightfully realistic. Zuko wasn't one to extract meanings from his dreams, but this one... it sat wrong with him. Like it was more than a dream. Not that that told him anything.

Zuko shifted, and a sharp pain went through his chest. Clenching his jaw, he suddenly remembered why he was in bed. The assassin, the blood. The odd firebending. He had been bedridden that day, too, with some sort of illness. Had he been drugged in preparation for the assassination? And why hadn't the assassination worked? He certainly hadn't put up much of a resistance.

Questions surged into Zuko's mind, and he stared up at the bed's tarp above. Why had he been nearly assassinated? By whom? What were their motives? Would there be another attempt? Zuko's head throbbed, both from the pain in his chest and from the dream. And from oversleeping, Zuko thought. Judging by the angle of the sun through his window, it was early morning. He'd slept nearly twenty-four hours, at least.

Slowly Zuko made an attempt to sit up, his chest protesting heavily. As he did so, he shifted his foot. A dull but painful throb echoed through his leg, and he frowned. Gingerly he pulled the sheets back and brought his pant leg up to expose his ankle. It was red and raw, the skin festering, as though it had been badly burned.

"What the..." Zuko whispered, running a finger over the raw skin. It snapped a shot of pain back at him, and he winced.

"Oh!" a feminine voice exclaimed. Zuko pivoted his head to see one of his maids enter the room. Gethena was squat and plump, and she often treated Zuko more as her grandson that her Lord. That in itself was surprising. Ozai had weeded out most of the palace staff that weren't both efficient and properly reverent.

Gethena smiled warmly at Zuko. "I'm so glad to see that you're awake. Give me a pip, and I'll be back with something hot to eat." She disappeared in a whirl of red cloth and black hair.

Zuko turned back to his ankle, prodding at it. Was it related to the questions he already had? Could someone... hurt him through a dream?

Remembering the odd firebending Zuko had seen moments before passing out, only one name came to mind that could have accomplished both the firebending and the odd dream. The Bloodsworn. From his brief talk with his father, he knew that the Bloodsworn had powers that he'd never seen before. Could they account for both oddities? If the assassination attempt was from the Bloodsworn, and Azula had gotten tangled up with them, then the motive for the assassination was clear. Azula would want the Fire Nation's throne. Returning the Fire Nation to its previous state of war and tyranny would be Azula's goal.

So the Bloodsworn was, as Zuko saw it, the best explanation he could come up with to explain the gaping hole in his chest. The only explanation, really. Zuko glanced at the white linen bandages that covered his chest, a large red blotch staining the fabric only inches from his heart. The possibility that someone else was responsible, that another group had executed an assassination attempt using rather unconventional means, worried Zuko. They already had the Bloodsworn to deal with, and they were going to be a handful alone. A second enemy could very well spell disaster, especially with Aang as indisposed as he was.

"Alright, Zuko," Gethena's melodic voice chimed. She had returned with a tray balanced on her hand, a bowl of steaming soup and a small pot of hot tea atop it. Zuko raised an eyebrow at the lack of an honorific, but didn't say anything. Gethena never forgot her place in public - he wouldn't scold her for a forgotten title in the privacy of his own rooms.

As Gethena set the tray down on Zuko's lap and took the pot to pour a cup of tea, she asked, "How is your chest healing, dear? Would you like me to call the doctor? Those bandages may need changing."

"It's fine for the moment," Zuko said, dipping a spoon into his thick soup. His stomach growled ravenously - he hadn't realized how hungry he was.

Gethena set both cup and pot on the small bedside table, turning to him. "Is there anything else I can get you?"

Zuko swallowed a mouthful of the hot liquid. It ran down his throat, heating his insides and working to relax his sore muscles. "Could you ask the palace accountant to bring the reports I've missed?" He wanted to simply lie back and sleep some more, to relax and give his chest time to heal, but he knew a working kingdom wouldn't wait for him to get better. He'd have to catch up on his mundane chores and decide on what to do about the Bloodsworn while he rested. Besides, if that dream was waiting for him again, he wasn't sure he wanted to go back to sleep.

Gethena seemed to hesitate, as though considering denying Zuko his work. Finally she sighed, nodding. "Just make sure you eat all that food, mind. Goodness knows your body hasn't eaten in days."

Zuko froze with a spoon to his mouth. He hadn't seriously entertained the possibility of having been unconscious for more than a day. "How long was I...?"

"You been out for three days now," Gethena replied. "I'll go fetch Tao. Eat." Gethena made a pointed gesture at Zuko's soup - as though it wasn't already half gone - and disappeared once more through the door.

Gods! Three days! Zuko would be up to his knees in paperwork. And his people would be frantic! He'd have to get himself out of bed and back into the daily routine even faster than he'd feared. Sighing, Zuko leaned into the pillows in resignation. There went any hope of rest he'd had left.

Ty Lee stood at the golden gates of the Bei Fong mansion, staring up at the intricate metalwork and trimmed hedges that stretched in both directions. A cobblestone path led into the grounds, and in the distance, Ty Lee could see the enormous building looming up over a vast garden filled with beautiful colours and marble fountains. It was one of the richest estates Ty Lee had seen, and she had spent more than her share of time with Azula at her family's vacation spots.

Despite her awe, Ty Lee could tell immediately that something was amiss. For starters, the front gate was ajar, swaying slightly in the light breeze. Secondly, there wasn't any sign of activity. No servants tending to the grounds, or people going about their business around the house. The entire estate felt deserted.

As Ty Lee stepped around the gate and onto the cobbled path, she gave the grounds a sweeping glance. The garden looked picturesque, like a moment frozen in time. Bushes of flowers bordered pathways that ran in intricate patterns throughout the garden. Fountains trickled, statues sat as stone sentinels, and trees fluttered in the wind. A small stream ran through the garden, passing under sweeping bridges. It was as unnerving as it was beautiful.

"Hello...?" Ty Lee called tentatively. She made her way toward the house slowly. Her legs were tense, and she walked on the balls of her feet, ready to defend herself at the first sign of danger. Something here was definitely off.

No one answered her call. She gave another, this one louder and more insistent, but there was no reply. Sighing, she climbed the mansion's front steps. The doors were covered with scrollwork and lined with gold. Hesitantly, Ty Lee pressed a hand to the door. It opened without resistance.

As soon as she stepped into the house, the smell hit her. She doubled over, trying not to hurl in the entryway. The pungent stench of rotting flesh was thick on the air. Eyes watering, Ty Lee glanced up, trying to decide where the stench was coming from. Her eyes, however, fell on something a little more interesting and a lot less gruesome. A section of the wooden floor was missing. A loose contraption stood beside it, dangling, as though it had held something aloft. Ty Lee walked over to it, a hand pressed to her face to block out as much of the smell as possible, and inspected it. She didn't understand how it worked, or what it was for. If only Sokka was here, or Iroh...

Deciding that the meaning of the device was lost on her, she continued deeper into the house. She moved as though ready for a fight, even though it seemed obvious that the house was deserted. She didn't want to be caught by an ambush, however unlikely that seemed.

As she passed the rooms, she glanced in, trying to find a source of the smell. It grew stronger as she continued deeper into the house. The hallways were as rich as the garden, porcelain vases atop marble stands, tapestries hanging from the walls depicting scenes of all sorts. Unlit torches hung from polished stands along the wall, and down one hall there was even chandeliers swaying from the roof, wax hanging from the spent candles.

Ty Lee turned down a corner into a wide hall, and the stench suddenly became overwhelming. Squinting through her tears, she entered a large bedroom - and emptied her stomach. Flies circled pools of dried blood and bits of flesh that littered the floor. It centered around a large chest, top swung open, at the end of an even larger bed. And in the chest were two bodies, the rotting flesh poking out the top. It was by far the most gruesome thing Ty Lee had ever seen. Even worse than the King back in Ba Sing Se. There were no trademark signs of the Bloodsworn - not that Ty Lee would know any if she saw them - but she had to guess that they were responsible here, too. Her stomach gave a heave, and she turned away, legs threatening to buckle.

She moved to leave the house, deciding that she'd gotten all she needed from here. The house's inhabitants were perhaps a week dead, probably at the hands of Bloodsworn. Ty Lee had never met Toph's parents, but she suspected that either they were the ones stuffed in the chest, or they met similar fates elsewhere in the house. Either way, Ty Lee didn't intend to spend any more time in the house. Maybe Iroh could make something out of the information she had gathered.

Ty Lee hoped Toph had escaped unscathed, that she was out looking for Aang and the others. In any case, Ty Lee was returning with very grim news.

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