"The shadows? I don't see any shadows. But does that mean that they aren't hiding under our feet?"

-General Iroh

Thirty minutes later, several pleasantries, stories, and smiles later, my Father blinks and takes a deep breath. "Ah, but the rest of you must be so tired from the long journey! I will have a servant show you to your rooms."

"Thank you, Fire Lord Ursan." Iulia says. "Your hospitality is most appreciated."

"Oh, it is the least I can do!" The Fire Lord grins, and I see the reflection of fire in his mouth. "I just want a few moments to speak to my daughter."

Father always lies. Father always lies.

Thirty seconds later, my father moves back through the wall of fire and remounts his throne, I prostrate myself on the floor, and the door slams behind my friends with the grave clang of metal. I do not turn around to look at it, although my first instinct screams for me to do so. My second instinct is to bang on the door and ask someone to let me out of the throne room that I have just, more or less, been trapped inside with one of the most ruthless men in the world.

That man is my father, and all that separates us is a wall of fire.

From my prostrated position, I feel the heat of the fire move over my hands and my face as I look up at one of the most powerful men in the world. All I see is a dark shadow silently pondering me. The fire that separates us ebbs and rises, with each cycle the flames getting higher and higher and brighter and brighter.

My father is not happy with me. It is not the first time.

"How has-"

"Silence." My father commands. I hear the flames in his voice, and they match the flames that suddenly jump up into the air.

About twenty seconds pass and the only noise comes from my heartbeat and the fire crackling in front of the shadow of the Fire Lord.

On the twenty-first second, my father breaks the silence. "You were instructed to remain at the Harmony Camp for the entire duration." His voice is controlled, and could probably fool his advisors, but I know my father. His words drip with volcanic fury.

"Someone tried to kill me." I respond carefully. "I wasn't provided with any form of security-"

"At my request." My father, the Fire Lord, breaks into my sentence. "I expected you to be able to solve your own problems, win your own fights, represent this Nation," The intensity of my father's voice and his flames increase with each word. "On your own."

"I was unable-"

"You will be silent!" The Fire Lord shouts. His shadow jumps to its feet from the fiery throne. "You are my child! You represent me!"

The flames soar high enough to lick the ceiling of the throne room. Without thinking, I curl up in a ball and cover my head with my hands. I have never seen my father this angry before. "I'm sorry!" I plead.

"I have been merciful!" My father shouts. "I have let you have your fun with your men, let you have your run of the entire Nation, let you waste our money on your trivial wants, and for nothing!"

"I'm sorry!" I repeat again, trying desperately not to be burned by my father and his fire.

"And now," the Fire Lord continues unabated, "You being a Waterbending witch into my own throne room! I've already heard from Master Marcian-"

My mind immediately switches to a mental image of Master Marcian looking at me with distaste. Of course. She probably is still angry that I challenged her strategic genius.

My father is still shouting. "I could be killed by that witch! She could kill me with a flick of her wrist and kill anyone that tried to catch her."

"Terumi wouldn't do that."

The words come out of my mouth before I can stop them, let alone comprehend them.

The shadow behind the wall of crackling fire stops and silently observes me like a predator. I feel my insides drop, my heart slow to a deathly still, and my muscles threaten to give way below me.

I just argued with the Fire Lord.

Arguing with the Fire Lord is a capital crime.

"Do you dare argue with me?" The Fire Lord, my father, whispers under his breath. "My own child?"

The words fly out of my mouth like unleashed daggers. "Terumi is a kind, sweet, and unlucky girl." I say without thought. I realize, too late, what I am doing is only sealing my fate.

"Get out," the Fire Lord hisses over the crackling inferno. The fire has now decreased in size, but I can tell that each tendril, each hiss and pop, of the blaze is compressed. "Of my sight. Get out of my throne room!"

I look down at my feet and realize that at some point within the last two minutes I stood up to look at the wall of fire. Without another thought, I turn my back on my father and walk to the cold metal door. I grab the chilling handle and throw the heavy door open.

I stomp out of the room and intentionally ignore the guards to either side of me. As the heavy metal door slams behind me, I take deep breaths in-between each stride.

An idiot. An idiot, that is what my father is. He is content to act like all of the other Fire Lords: permanent notches in history as the bad guys. Excluding Fire Lord Zuko and Fire Lord Izumi, that is. They were good rulers, and actually cared about their people. But the rest? Nope. Not one bit. Maybe some had in the beginning, but power always corrupts.

I walk through the center of the grand hallway, and people make a point of getting out of my way. Every flame I pass jumps up into the air. I realize that my fists are clenched at my sides and I'm breathing heavily.

By the time I reach the large gate outside, I have worked myself up into a fiery fury. How dare he kick me out of the throne room! Me, the Princess of the Fire Nation, his sole heir, and his daughter, and yet he treats me like some sort of slave to do whatever he snaps his fingers and orders me to do.

Is this what being royalty should feel like? The question nips at my brain as the Dai Li agents open the large metal gate for me when they notice my approach. One of them says something, but I don't pay attention to it. I keep walking, my metal boots clinking against the obsidian pavement with every step. I walk for awhile, not paying attention to where I am going. I know the Caldera like the back of my hand, and I am certain that I will be able to find my way back to the Palace from wherever I end up.

Somehow, I end up outside of a large pink granite building. It is not familiar to me, which is unusual. I explored every single inch of the Capital when I was younger, memorizing where everything was and what kinds of people lived where. The reason for doing so escapes me now, as do my memories of this temple-like building.

My legs, as though suddenly claimed by an ancient power, move and bring me up the steps to the building. I don't try to stop them, because I am genuinely interested in this foreign construct.

I climb up the stairs and notice a mosaic in front of the entrance to the building. It curves and ebbs seemingly at random, forming a circle of ellipses. In the center is a single circle that seems out of place. The entire mosaic is in bright yellows, plain blues, deep reds, and lively greens, with the exclusion of the center circle, which is white.

"It's a flower." A strong voice above me says.

I look up and see an old man wearing a long black robe. In one gnarled hand, he props himself up with a cane. Around his neck is a black pendent with an obsidian facsimile of the mosaic.

The man taps my leg with his cane. "You a mute, girl?"

"I was just wondering what the mosaic was, sir." I say, caught off guard by the man's attitude. "I didn't mean any offense."

The man raises an eyebrow. "Did I say I was offended? Lot of people come here. If I took offense at everything, I'd be either a dead man or a wanted man." The man smiles, and I see black gaps where teeth should be. His pinkish gums seem hardened from use.

"What is this place?" I ask.

The man points his cane at the dark doorway behind him. "Come and see." He says, striding under the shadow of the doorway. I hurry to follow the man. I cross the threshold…

And pinch my nose to prevent an acrid smell from divulging my breakfast from my stomach. "What the hell is that terrible smell?" I ask.

"Look around, girl." The old man says from the darkness. My eyes start to adjust to the low light, but I still cannot see where the man is. All I can see is the shifting movement of dark shapes.

"I can't see anything." I say to the old man, whom I think is behind me.

Laughter blossoms and crackles all around me. Instinctively, I flinch, and take a few steps back. I bump into something soft, and I realize that I was correct about the location of the old man.

"You're right. Can't see a damned thing." The old man says, grabbing my shoulder with an incredibly firm grasp for such an elderly person. "No one does: not on this island, not in this Nation."

"What is this place?" I ask, feeling the fierce desire to turn back towards the door and run into the sunlight, letting the light of the fiery orb cleanse me of this dark building.

"A refugee home." The old man says, now somehow in front of me. I feel his warm breath on my face. "I guess you could say in here we see a lot better than anyone outside does."

The hand on my shoulder lets go, and I realize that I had bumped into someone else. "Why don't you file a request for housing?" I ask.

A laugh booms out from a figure at my left side. "Missy," the androgynous voice shrieks in hysteria, "we have! And this sty is what they've given us!"

"You can file a review form with…" my voice trails off when I realize the futility of my words. With the war at the height it is now, no one is going to pay much attention to a refugee form from refugees that already have a shelter.

"Missy here seems to know a bit about paperwork." The voice says. "Wonder why that is?"

I feel a hand grasp at my hair. I step back, and the hand runs down the side of my chest plate. Instinctively, I slap the hand away. I take a few steps back, and raise my hands, ready to defend myself if the need be.

"My, my," a scratchy voice hisses from the darkness. "Quite the armor you have there. Noble blood, eh?"

I feel all the hidden eyes in the shelter shift to me. "People like you," a voice says, "put us here."

"I bet she has some money on her…" Another voice whispers.

"Let's see." The scratchy voice laughs. "Come here, missy."

Without thinking, my hands spread apart in front of me. A wave of fire bursts from my hands, and for a few moments a red and orange evil light illuminates the entire shelter. I see fire splash against dark shrouded figures with dark hands and no faces, large empty bookcases, and a lone podium with a clenched fist on the top.

I hear the cries of human pain, and I backpedal until I feel the cool air outside. My eyes take a few seconds to adjust to the sudden change of light. In the center of my vision is a large horizontal streak of green and purple blobs, and I blink at least twenty times to clear my vision.

I turn my back on the shelter, and run over the mosaic of the flower and down the steps. All I can do is look at my hands, my hands that feel as though they are on fire. My eyes are brimming with fierce tears, and I do not know why.

I don't notice the sun setting behind me. Instead, I notice the growing shadows wherever I run.