Does this darkness have a name?

This cruelty, this hatred. How did it find us?

Did it steal into our lives or did we seek it out and embrace it?

What happened to us?

That we now send our children out into the world like we send young men to war,

hoping for their safe return. But knowing that some will be lost along the way...

When did we lose our way?

Consumed by the shadows, swallowed whole by the darkness.

.

Does this darkness have a name?

.

.

Is it your name?

-One Tree Hill-

"What do you miss most about being alive?"

It was nighttime, and he was getting used to not being able to fall asleep, and Nyla seemed be to getting used to talking to him after four days of being invisible.

It took her a moment. Bolin thought she'd be holding her breath, if she could still breathe. "I miss...I miss Mommy and Daddy. And their cooking, and bedtime stories. I even miss my baby brother crying, and how Daddy would grumble because he was tired. But, then, sometimes Daddy would make hot cocoa in the middle of the night, and we'd just talk, and Baby Gi Gi would suck on my fingers. I even miss going to school. And spinach." she said, "But you wanna know what I miss the most-most?" she asked, and Bolin swore she looked so much older than the age of eight that she was eternally stuck in.

"What?"

"Love. And feeling. People say that no one can hurt you when you die, but they don't get it. There's no point if you can't feel anything."

Bolin looked at her, and adjusted the pillows. At this point, he'd do anything to be able to feel nothing.

"Do you miss it?" she asked in her sing-song voice. No matter how much wind or energy her form created, her green bow always stayed in place. The only thing besides her transparent form that would give way to her lack of life, was the blood staining the right side of her face, that dripped down from the crack in her head.

Bolin tried to look at the left side.

"Miss what?"

"How you were before. Before the Change?"

Bolin closed his eyes tight and thought. He had no idea how he could explain this to her, or what the right answer would be. How do you know to regret something that you don't know is a blessing or a curse?

"I wish..." he said quietly, "...I wish someone would tell me why my eyes and feelings suddenly decided to work differently than everyone else's. I wish that it would stop."

"...Maybe you need glasses." Nyla suddenly appeared on the other side of the room. Bolin shivered. He could never get used to the chilly energy the ghosts brought with them wherever they went.

"Heh...yeah, maybe."

"But then," she looked at him with big, green, eyes,"if you couldn't see me...we wouldn't be friends. I wouldn't have anyone to talk to, or play with. Mommy can't see me, and I always make Gi Gi cry when I try to talk to him."

Bolin sighed and stuffed his pillow under his stomach. "Nyla, you can't stay here anymore. This isn't your place anymore. You have to move on, to the Spirit World."

If ghosts could look said, she had mastered the art.

"Nyla..." he shook his head. He could feel her pain, her sadness. How lonely she was. Flashes of her life flew across his vision; a family dinner; she playing with the baby; she on her first day of school. It was wrapping inside his heart, getting in his head. He pushed the feelings away, and made his voice strong. "We can't talk anymore, Nyla. We...we can't be friends anymore."

"You don't like me anymore?" she asked. The room got colder, icicles ran up the windows. Bolin forced himself not to shiver.

"No, no, it's not that. I told you; you don't belong here. The Spirit World is your home now."

She just looked down at her slippered-clad feet. Bolin thought she'd shimmer away.

"Daddy used to say people are afraid of what they don't understand, or can't explain. He told me that once, when people were being mean to me about what I could do."

He wrapped his arms around himself. "Yeah, I've been hearing that a lot lately. It got me thinking a bit."

"About what?" she pointed her toe, looking at her shoes. Point. Flex. Point. Flex.

"That maybe...it is still okay to be afraid of something that you're familiar with?"

She gives him a look.

"Me."

"...I don't know." she shrugged, "But then again, what do I know? I can't feel anything, and I'm only eight."

"Yeah, well, sometimes feelings aren't all they're cracked up to be, Nyla."

"But you don't scare me," she cocked her head to the side, "You're too nice. Do you scare yourself?"

"...Sometimes."

"Why?"

"It's...hard to explain."

She looked up at him, her green bow shimmering in the invisible wind. "Because you don't understand?"

"Yeah, Ny, because I don't understand."

The room got quiet. After a minute, she spoke up in a tiny voice that for once sounded her age. "Bolin?"

"Hmmm?"

"Will you always be my friend? No matter what? Even if something bad happens?"

He blinked and leaned up on his elbows, "I..." He thought about telling her that she had to leave again, to move on, but he couldn't bring himself to try to force her away. Not when he was the only one who could see her. He swallowed down a lump in his throat."Nyla, of course I will. Why do you-"

"-because something bad's gonna happen. On this side, you see and hear things. Bad things. They say someone's gonna make something really bad happen soon."

He bolted up right in bed, and looked at her. "Who Nyla? Who do they say?"

She started fading away, the room started getting warmer again.

"Nyla!" he called, "Wait! Who do they say?"

With one last breath, she spoke the words in an eerie whisper that ran up his spine.

"They say you."

What wakes him up is the persistent drops of water splashing onto his face from above, and the muscle cramping in his leg. Mako blinks open his eyes, and groans, wincing as that damn water splatters on him again. He struggles to get up, only to find himself bound; the shackles are heavy metal clasps around his wrists and legs. It takes him a second- too long in his opinion- to remember what the hell happened or where he is. He shakes his head for a moment to clear it, then starts in fear when he sees Korra's unconscious form tied up next to him. The memories play back like the pictures on a mover screen: Ta Gee's house. Bedroom. Broken glass. Toxic gas. Choking. Passing out. He tries to call her name, but fails when a round of coughing is all that comes out. His tongue feels like it's been coated with sandpaper, and his throat is burning like the first time he tried to perform the Dragon's Breath when he was fourteen as self defense against two thugs, and failed miserably. He could barely swallow for a week after that, and Bolin had to use their week's worth of money for a healer, who wanted payment in something other than money.

He groans, and tries to roll himself on his side. He tilts his head back, and opens his mouth. The water drips from the ceiling slowly, landing in his mouth with a plop, and he swishes it around for a good few seconds before greedily swallowing.

He tries again. Her name comes out raspy, "K-korra...?"

She doesn't even flinch. He tries to clear his throat, and takes a deep breath while saying her name again. He inches closer to her, little by little, but the end of the chains are tied into the wall, and he can't go any further.

"Korra? Hey, Korra, C'mon!" he nudges her side with his foot, and to his relief, she finally stirs. Her moan and flutter of eyes turns slowly into panic, that transforms into a surge of wind blasting.

"Hey, it's okay! Calm down!"

"Mako...?" she gasps and coughs, "Where are we?"

He sighs and tries to shake the ach from his leg, "With our luck, wherever The Abdicator is. At least Bolin is probably here. Actually, no," he says, "I can't decide if that's a good thing or not."

Korra shifts and tries to sit down in a more comfortable position. She takes a big intake of breath, and wills the heat up from her stomach and out through her mouth. Flames lick her lips and meet the metal clasps, but do not melt them in any way. They don't even blacken at all. "Gah! What kind of metal is this? I can't even melt it!"

"I'm guessing he made it that way on purpose," Mako says glumly, "since this was probably part of his plan all along."

"Thank you, Captain Melancholy. Becoming hopeless is really going to help us get out of here and find Bolin."

Mako grunts, and tries in vain to melt his clasps. "Damn it. We gotta get outta-"

A door swing opens, and they freeze. The two officers come out of the shadows and stand beside the bars. "Shang, Kun!" Mako snarls, "You traitors!"

"Hey, kid, don't look at us like that," Shang drawls, "We had no choice. At least we're saving lives, which is something that you freak-lovers failed at. Made a deal with him; the kids' lives, for yours."

"You really think he's gonna follow through with that!? Agni, he's a serial killer! He doesn't make 'promises', just compromises! You're not saving anybody!"

"Ohhh...you are right about that, detective," a voice drones from the darkness. And with that, a slice cuts through the air, and the in the next second, the two officers were down, blood bubbling up from the knifes sticking out of their chests. They cried and gaged, until they fell silent.

Mako and Korra watch in barely contained horror, as the silhouette pulls the knives out of the bodies as if it were a stick out of the ground, and wipes the blade with the corner of his cloak. As he gets closer, the darkness fades away to revel beady, bloodshot eyes like a cat-owls, scars crisscrossed on his dark face, and the overwhelming stench of alcohol.

"Hello, Mako, Avatar," he nods to each in turn, "I'm guessing you've heard of me."

Mako and Korra couldn't do anything but try to remember how to breathe. The smell of blood was making their ears ring.

"Oh, don't look so afraid. I'm not going to kill you. Yet."

And with that, he released the vat of hot oil.

For being two firebenders, The Abdicator thought to himself, watching from the shadows in a bubbling craze, they sure do scream loudly when burnt.

"I'm an idiot."

Bolin knew where the chamber was -or, to be more precise, what it looked like- the question was how to get there. He could bend earth, but he couldn't see through it, and in his state of mind, the paranoia was making it harder for him to try to sense if there was anything, well, chamber-ish down there under the layers of earth.

Or where in the hell he should start digging underground.

Bolin sighed, and realized that in like pretty much every other situation in his life, he hadn't thought things through. In his defense, it was kinda hard to think at all when your brain's been recovering from being slit in half, and dying ten times over sure doesn't help anyone's emotional state. The past month since Harmonic Convergence had been the worst in his life. It had been:

Sleeping and getting up, and not knowing which one was worse, or which one he was in, because he had opened and closed his eyes so much and seen so many things that people would say were daydreams or nightmares if he told them, but he knew they were real, and being afraid to touch, because no, no, no those feelings aren't you, they are them from that coat/chair/table/ hand you just shook, no, you didn't drown, that was the other guy, and talking to invisible friends, and fighting off damn Spirits, and one time an official-looking guy had come up to Mako and handed him a card and told him to 'call that number if you want to talk about your brother's condition' and thinking he was crazy and maybehewascrazy, and trying to blow away all the noise and voices that curl up in his head, but Mako had said-

"I'm really proud of you, Bo. I know this can't be easy for you do deal with, but you're saving a lot of people. Mom and Dad would be proud, too."

And that was what was keeping/him/going bEcAuSE-

-what was really hard, was trying to remember what/was/what and which/was/which because sometimes he'd be in mid-vision and not/know/it and everything would be dandy, and he'd be talking to Korra, but then her eyes would change, or she'd say something odd, or he'd look down and, like, half his hand would be missing, and he'd open his eyes, and damn it, Korra hadn't even been there to begin with. Or the time Mako had gotten a plumber to fix the bathtub (or/so/he/thought/) because apparently Mako couldn't /see/ the plumber, and the angry energy had caused the toilet to overflow anyway. And-

Focus, he scolded himself. This is real. You saw where the chamber was. You sensed it before, now just...stay calm, and try to get that same feeling again.

He closed his eyes and waited, and listened. To any other earthbender, it would probably looked like he was trying to do seismic sense, but this was not the case. Bolin shoved all the panic and static out of his mind, pushed the emotions and energies of all the ghosts away, trying to form some silence. He waited, for a minute, then pushed with his thoughts . The tingling returned, and with his closed eyes, he saw almost a kind of path made of energy, guiding him to where he needed to go.

Two blocks over, and 200 kl down. He started walking to where he felt it. Around the corner, and down the two blocks. A short distance, but to him felt like an eternity. It was dark out, and this part of the city was too downtrodden to have street lamps, but to him, but it was like shining beacon, bubbling with energy. The closer he got to the spot, the more he felt the tingle pull him, and the brighter his eyes glowed.

When he reached the spot, he hands singed. The ruins on his hands began to glow, bright red through the darkness. He placed his palms flat on the pavement, and the ruins began to form on the ground around him. They etched themselves into the ground like chalk, and when they were finished, Bolin was left sitting in the very middle of them, the night illuminated by the light.

He closed his eyes, and jumped into the whole that formed around him. The tunnel began shifting around him, wherever he placed his hands. He kept walking and walking deeper. He knew the destination. He had a plan now. And he would put a stop to this.

It was his turn.

Asami had been waiting for about an hour on the bison, and quite frankly, was getting a quite worried, if not a little pissed off. The sun was starting to set, Mako and Korra should have been back by now. She figured either, A) They had ditched her, (not likely) B) They were having tea and a dandy ol' time with the parents,( far more unlikely, although stranger things had happened) or C) Something terrible had happened. (horribly likely)

And judging by the loud shattering sound she had heard moments before, followed by some yells in the form of Korra's voice, she was going to go with the latter.

She wanted to jump off the bison and go to where she had heard the disturbance at the back of the house, but her shoulder still hurt, and she knew she couldn't make it down the creature, or really walk much without help.

Damn fire always has to ruin everything, she thought glumly. It was rendering her useless, and if there was one thing Asami Sato hated, it was being unable to help with a situation. She groaned, and crawled her painful way to the front of Oggiee's back, ready to grab the saddle and make a hasty flight back to the Temple, to call out a search. Before, she took could take off, however, she saw a man and woman whom she assumed to be the parents, come rushing out to her. They were frantic and teary-eyed, explaining in a panic about how the house has been broken into! The windows in my son's room have been shattered! Detective Mako and the Avatar have been taken!

So Asami had been right. Great.

"Please, calm down!" she told them, "I'm going back the Air Temple now to get help! Everything will be alright." I hope.

As Asami took off she could only feel the overwhelming sense of dread bubble up in her stomach, and take form in her tears. Things were just getting worse, and her world would end if she found any of her friends' deaths highlighting the front page of the newspaper in the morning.

"Damn it, you guys all better be okay, or I'll kill you each myself!"

The wind whizzing through her hair, the setting sun casting ribbons of light across the sky in pinks, and yellows, and oranges, would have been beautiful sight if not for the situation at hand, and she would have wanted it to last. But the fear in her urged Ooggiee on faster, needing as much time as possible.

...

It's minutes later, and she's not sure what makes her look left when she does, or how it catches her eye, but she commands Oogiee down with the speed that would make any Airbender proud.

In hindsight, Asami is grateful for the fast approaching night, because she isn't sure she would have been able to see it at all in the daylight.

They are shining bright like a beacon, etched onto a patch of weed-covered pavement behind an abandoned ware-house looking building. The symbols twinkling red, and slopping high and low with edges and curves, mystify her as she lands. She is also grateful-internally so- that she brought along her father's old Mythology book of symbols that had The Abdicator's story in it. She'll never admit it, but when she was little, ( and still unaware as to the true meaning of the stories) she used to pretend that if she could decipher the symbols and their meanings, she could make her own magic spells to bring her mother back to life. She'd spend hours in her father's study room when he was at work, she sitting on a pillow-layered chair, hunched over the mahogany desk, with a pencil between her teeth. A little of this, a little of that, into the bowl. Splat, splat, splat!

But maybe her pretend wasn't all childhood innocence and hope. Maybe it could be real. If she could figure out what these meant...

With an intake of breath, she braced herself for the crawl down. She went down Oogie's back with the grace of a chicken-bull in a balloon shop, and not-so-delicately landed on her hands and knees, her arm burning like a live wire. With her one good arm, she slung her bag off her shoulder, and took the book out. She took another long look at the ruins, walking slowly around them, trying to see them from all angles. She noticed she could only get so close before the light stung her eyes, and the energy felt hot, like fire. They weren't burning, though. They looked beautiful, in an eerie soft of way.

Somehow, in some way, she knew it was Bolin who had made these.

With a worried sigh, her shaking fingers flipped open the first page, and her eyes scanned each and every one before she comes across what she thought what she was looking for.

She walked around them once more, and checked the pages. Yes, these were the symbols in the book. But something like slime got stuck in her throat as she read the words under them.

The right one was called 'Master' all with high corners and dark edges. The one next to it, with highlighted sweeps and curling dots, was labeled 'The Key.'

But how did this all relate; Asami struggled to fit the pieces together. If Bolin had made these, if these belonged to Bolin- which she knew they did-what did they mean? Did Bolin have to find this 'key'? Who was this 'Master'?

She squinted in the dying light, and brought the book as close as she could without feeling the sting.

She began reading the inscriptions underneath:

It is said that whoever holds the key, holds ultimate power of the dark kind... The Master holds the key within, but cannot unlock it until the time is right, until everything is set in place. Like the thousands they shall come, with lights inside their eyes. They will follow him everywhere. He will rule them all, and they shall call him Master.

She swallowed, and tried to stop shaking. She was beginning to sweat, the paper was crinkling. She turned the page, only to gasp in shock. The rest of the section was ripped out, the pages torn jagged from the lining with a forceful hand. She kept flipping back and forth, but there nothing left on the symbols, and the new chapter went onto something about old forms of bending...

"Okay." she said to herself, trying to calm down. The worst-case scenarios went running through her head. Bolin made these. The blood written on the walls. The whole story. Why he wanted Bolin.

It became horribly clear to her that Bolin was this 'Master'. But of what? What?

"What do you mean?", she yelled to the glowing symbols, her voice high, "What do you want with him?"

Then their light faded away at once, leaving her in darkness.

Their screams couldn't be more enjoyable to him, even if he had a fluffy chair to watch them in from (though it was sounding like a good idea) and Maven handing him his favorite wine by the glass ( also sounding rather indulgent). The firebender was shaking, his skin shiny with sweat, mixing into the blood that was blooming up from the whip lashes that Maven gave every few seconds or so. He waited just long enough for the yell to die down, and his breath to even out again, and then Snap! Wack! Nooo!

It was a melody of pure glory.

And the Avatar-oh, the strong, brave, resilient Avatar- was now hanging ten feet off the ground, upside down by metal clasps, which were pulling her limps farther and farther apart with each scream she produced.

The cycle was lushes. A little whip to the boy's-everywhere- followed by his blood-splattering cries, and the Avatar was reduced to a helpless little girl, begging and pleading to please, stop! Kill me! Kill me, leave him alone! Please! all the while her limbs were stretched like dough.

Ooohhh...Twelve was going to be too easy to manipulate.

All the blood in Korra's body was rushing to her head, making an aching thud pound at her temple, and her limbs were burning/fire/too much/burning. But she told herself to stop thinking about it, and figure a way out of this hell whole.

She couldn't take Mako's screams anymore.

Her voice was dying off again from all the begging, but she found it useless anyway. She was just giving the monster what he wanted. And she guessed Mako was figuring that out, too, and how his cries only caused her own pain and torture, because his cries were slowly being replaced by the hard clench of his jaw, and forceful grunts. His hands were grasping the wall, and slowly, slowly he kept trying to turn his body so his mouth could be in rage of those monkeyfeatherd bastards.

Mako was a dragon, and beasts cannot be tamed.

The whip cracked again, and his back arched in an inhuman way, the skin painted red. But Mako just grunted, and took in deep breaths through his flared nostrils. She bit her tongue to keep it quiet, and tried with all her might to activate the Avatar State.

Surely her life was in fucking danger now, huh? Surely Raava wouldn't stand for this when she wouldn't let this go on anymore! Then why did her power fail her? The anger was bubbling just beneath the surface, heating up her whole body-but she couldn't produce that glow in her eyes. Was it because she really was the New Avatar, and had no past lives' energy to call upon? Had Raava been hurt?

Was she just this helpless?

"Arghhh!"

"Mako!"

The whip had curled around his arm, pulling him down to fall on his side, and he-he didn't get up. He wasn't moving-

"How do you feel now, Avatar? Still invincible?"

But no, no, she couldn't answer, the tears running down her face were her only reply, as was the whining sound in the back of her throat.

Mako...Mako, please. Get up...

"Your tears will do nothing, little girl. You couldn't even fight me if you tried. Besides, this isn't your battle. It never was." The Abdicator smirked," It's always been about the boy."

Just then, something stirred from the ground, a shaking form, wobbling up on his hands and knees. A raspy voice came from his throat, but it was the strongest words that she had ever heard him say.

"M-my brother-" he panted, and spit out a wad of red saliva,"will never follow you. You've underestimated him."

"Ahhhh..." the 'tsk' tsk' cluck of his tongue was like nails on a board, "Clearly, you need to re-read that letter he left you, boy. He seemed awfully worn down to me. Besides, I know you're not stupid enough to not know why I've captured you both. Take a good guess; I'll give you three choices."

"One-"

-Maven flicked the whip-

-"He loves you and would do anything for you."

"Two-"

-The chains pulled Korra into four different directions simultaneously-

-"He will be putty in my hands at the sight of you two here."

"Or three-"

-The vat of hot oil came down-

-"He will do it by his own choice."

He released Korra from her hold, and she fell, fell to the ground with a thud. Mako's dull eyes were accomplishment in off itself.

"Personally, I'd go will 'all of the above' if I were you." and with that, he spun on his heels, and walked out the door.

The tunnel just kept going deeper and deeper.

Bolin had no idea how the chamber had ever managed to get down here, let alone how in the hell he would have been able to see his hands in front of his face, if his hands weren't, well...how could he put this? Glowing with the creepy red energy of just-as-creepy-symbols-that-somehow-he knew-the-meaning to-yet-had-never- seen-before-this- night?

Yeah. That sounded about right.

The dryness down here was making his tongue thick and dry, and about just as many Spirits that found home in the sky, scurried about down here, as well. And while his 'glowy-ness' seemed to scare most of them away, others weren't very friendly looking, and had taken it upon themselves to follow him.

That's cool, no big deal. Just keep walking and maybe the four-eyed, slimy, razer-toothed monster-thing won't eat you. You got this, Bolin. The Spirits in the vines in Republic City had seemed to call out to him, and make him feel wanted, but as he kept getting deeper into the tunnels, the energy felt along the lines of something that Bolin couldn't think of to call anything other than one of dread. He closed his eyes so he wouldn't have to see the Spirits, and walked along to the invisible pull. Whatever fate awaited him, there was no going back. He had deserved this- had caused this. And whether karma had allowed him to not to die all those years in the streets, only to meet a horrible end now, well, at least he knew he wouldn't be missed much. With all the people on the streets who clearly made it known that he was a freak, and hated him for all the recent events happening-each killing that was just to get to him, every glare at each vision that he tried to warn the people about but couldn't until it was too late- his death would probably be celebrated.

He was drowning in these thoughts just as something made him open his eyes. A boy, a few years younger than him, stood inches from his face. He was a ghost, Bolin realized, and the last time he had seen him, he had been unwrapping his decapitated head, all nicely tucked inside tissue paper, and a ribboned-box sent directly to him.

"Kuzon..." Bolin's breath froze up like an icicle, "W-what...what are you doing here?"

Bolin brought his hand up to light the space between them, and the glow highlighted all the teeth marks and torn skin which had been the cause of his death. Some muscle was even pulled apart to show the bone underneath, and Bolin moaned, just as everything went fuzzy.

The dogs were eating his flesh still half-alive, the boy didn't even make a sound as the bones snapped under their killer jaws. Their muzzles were stained with blood, as they clamped down on the gooy-

"Ugh..." Bolin pushed the images away, holding his head until the feeling passed, "I know, Kuzon. I know...I'm sorry..."

The ghost remained silent for a few moments, and Bolin remembered Mako telling him that Kuzon had never been able to talk when he was alive. Even with his short time with seeing ghosts, Bolin had learned that some wanted his help, some wanted to hurt him and cause pain to anyone they could, and while others just floated along, silent, watching the world keep on going around them. They always looked the saddest, Bolin thought, and the most broken.

Bolin pulled the light away, and tried to keep walking. If Kuzon wanted to talk to him via his mind, well, then, he would eventually. His ember eyes just looked like empty pools of orange; like a dried out fruit, or a burnt out star. Nyla 's green ones always looked lively, if not lonely at times, but at least she didn't have this haunted look this the poor, mute ghost did.

"Coming along for the ride?" Bolin asked. The ghost just stared. Bolin nodded. "Well, okay then."

Bolin started walking again, the earth bending around his glowing hands. After a few moments, he sighed, "Look, Kuzon. I tried to explain this to Nyla a few weeks back, but she didn't really understand. You...you can't stay here anymore, " he sighed wearily, "You've been dead for two weeks now. You have to find your place in the Spirit World."

Bolin dared to look back, only to see Kuzon's form ripple and shimmer.

"You need to find peace," he tried again, "I'm just trying to-

There is no peace. Not on this side. Only darkness.

Bolin stopped abruptly, hearing Kuzon's voice in his head. "I know. I know it's hard, but-"

You need to go back. You will only cause more harm with what you are doing. Kuzon suddenly appeared in front of him.

He shook his head, eyes hard. "No, Kuzon, I can't. Not when I'm come this far. Not when my family is in danger. I have to keep going."

Bolin walked right through Kuzon, and almost collapsed.

STOP! NO MORE!

The wail shook the air, sending wind and light surging around them. Bolin clutched head and tried to shut his eyes against the force.

You must go no further, the voice echoed. It will only bring more pain.

"I have no choice, Kuzon. I'm sorry." And with that, Bolin brought his palm right up to the ghost's face, and the symbol started to shimmer. It formed on Kuzon's face with an eerie glow, and Kuzon howled in anger, his form fading.

Noooo!

And then he was gone.

After that, Bolin walked faster, more purposeful than ever. It seemed like hours that he kept walking, and his legs felt ready to cave in. But eventually, he arrived.

The door looked like someone had recently ripped it apart, and put it back together. Its metal frame, was wide and tall, build right into the side of the rocks.

"Well..." he took a deep breath, "I guess this is it. I'm sorry, Mako."

With one swift kick with a particularly big rock, the door rammed down. He walked cautiously inside, the dimly lit halls only glowed with a few candles every few feet, and stench was like something had been rotting for a while. The most horrible feeling came over him, voices whispering in his mind go back! go back! but he kept pressing forward. The hallway opened up to the main room he had seen in his vision, everything just as he had seen. His feet crunched along broken bits of glass, and he ran his finger along one of the shards in the mirror.

He saw himself, with hallow, black eyes, and a crooked, sadistic grin.

He quickly pulled his hand away, and forced himself to keep walking.

"I'm really proud of you, Bo. I know this can't be easy for you do deal with, but you're saving a lot of people. Mom and Dad would be proud, too."

He went along the hall until he spotted the kitchen. The table was bigger than he remembered, but the cup with that horrible youth-cocktail, was still resting in the exact spot, the rim glossy. It was too quiet, and he figured they were waiting in the shadows for him anyway, so no sense trying to be sneaky about it. He opened another door, and tried to peer through the darkness. If there was any earth available, he'd take pride in having the first hit; of finding the bastard and knocking his head in so hard that its crack would be heard throughout the city. But, the odds were not in his favor. So he went with the next alternative.

"Well, I'm here, bitch. Come out and play." his voice rang out through the empty room.

Suddenly, the lights blasted on, and his eyes screamed in protest as they rushed to adjust themselves.

"I'm waiting, bastard! Come and get me!"

"Bolin!?"

He spun, and turned right. His chest was ice, his body numbed and exploded. He had to grasp the wall to keep from collapsing.

"...M-mako?! Korra...!?"

Something attacked him and pinned him against the wall in a flash. He opened his eyes, staring right into beady, blot-shot eyes, and twisted flesh, with hot breath against his face.

"Hello, Number Twelve," he whispered in his ear, his lips leaving goosebumps on his skin, "I've been waiting a long time for you."