A/N: Thank you to my faithful reviewers and to all my new "followers" and "favoriters" :) You guys are the reason I keep on going with this story. In response to reviews from Chapter 17:
Luna de Papel: I'm so gonna love Dark!Aang !Thanks for the update, it's wonderful to know this story isn't abandoned.
= = = I'm so glad you love dark Aang ;-) It's gonna be fun to see where it goes. Thanks for the review. I'm glad to see that some people are still reading and care whether it keeps going :)
Guest: When I saw the story was updated I was so excited. I had been waiting (impatiently) for this chapter. I love the tension i can feel when reading this!
= = = Hello, Guest (you mysterious person, you!) :) It makes me happy to know that you were looking so forward to the update (sorry it took so long!). I hope to update again soon! Thanks for the review! I'm feelin' the love :)
AnnaAna: Wow! Missed you a lot! I do hope they find Katara soon because Ozai certainly is getting inside of her head—I bet that's where Azula learned her deadly mental skills from. Jaaku also seems manipulative and not a trustworthy character. Run, Aang!
= = = Aww I missed you too! Haha :) Yes, no doubt that's where Azula learned it from. And it remains to be seen, but you might be smart not to trust Jaaku too quickly ;-) Thanks so much for the review!
ArrayePL: Thanks for updating.
= = = You're welcome. I hope you enjoyed it :)
The rain continued relentlessly. Katara's body felt numb, her lips trembling, the cold cutting through her like a thousand pins and needles. The waterlogged clothing against her skin forced her body temperature lower and lower, making her shiver as she drooped over Ozai's shoulder. Her hair hung in wet slicks, icy beads of water dipping off her nose and chin. Perhaps she would die, succumbing slowly to hypothermia. Of course she knew it wasn't nearly cold enough, but she wished it were. What did she have to live for now? No one would miss her.
Through the steady whispering and plonking of the rain all around them, Katara barely heard Ozai mutter something to himself. "Perfect," she thought she heard him say, though she couldn't be sure.
After a few more paces she felt herself slowly lowered to the ground, staggering and off-balance from the sudden change in position. It took a few moments for the dizziness to subside and then she saw it. A solitary, dilapidated old shack, likely having been abandoned for gods knew how long. Ozai began walking toward it and gestured for her to follow.
The exterior was discolored and dotted with mildew. A rotting pile of firewood sat beside the front door, overgrown with weeds and thistle. What she wouldn't give for a warm fire right now. Ozai kicked a pile of soggy dead leaves and debris away from the door and turned the handle. It groaned open, revealing a dank and musty interior.
The two of them entered slowly, swatting cobwebs from their faces. Katara's throat tightened at the thick dust in the air.
"What I'm searching for isn't far from here," Ozai said, turning to her. "We can use this place as shelter until I find it. It shouldn't be long." He paused for a moment, his eyes scanning her from head to foot. "Have a look around. You may find some dry clothes to change into."
"And how will I do that when my hands are tied behind me?" she bit back.
"Quite a predicament you're in, isn't it?" he lilted. "Perhaps you will learn to do as you're told. Now wait here until I get back. I doubt you'd get very far in that condition anyway." He smirked, his austere amber eyes lingering on hers before walking out the door and disappearing from view.
Katara gazed around the shadowy room. It smelled of rain and rot, and something else she couldn't quite place. She took a few steps deeper into the shack. Cracks in the walls spilled small threads of light into the main room, illuminating it just enough to see around her. There was a rickety stairway just inside the entrance leading up to what looked like a scanty second floor. A rustic wooden table sat in the center of the main room, a large crack running down the middle, covered in a thick layer of dust and grime. Six chairs surrounded it in no orderly fashion, two of them knocked on their sides. On the table several old books, some ruined beyond comprehension, were splayed open where the bygone reader had left off. Oddly, the books had somehow avoided becoming riddled with dust. Strange, she thought to herself.
On the far wall, adjacent to the table, sat a fireplace with a mountain of ashes in its mouth spilling onto the cracked and dirty floor. An iron pot hung over it, reminding her suddenly of how hungry she was. Looking to her left, a small kitchen led off from main room. Maybe she could find some food, and then she'd do her best to rummage around for clothes.
She ambled into the kitchen. Some of the cupboard doors were thrown wide open. Whoever had lived here seemed to have left in a hurry. Either that or they weren't too keen on tidiness. Mounted on one wall were three shelves holding several glass jars, an assortment of odd herbs and ingredients inside. Having had some herbalist training growing up, she recognized some of the contents: red and blue fungi, willow bark, cardamom pods, honeycomb…
Nowhere in the kitchen did there appear to be anything edible. Most of the cupboards were empty save for a few wooden bowls and utensils and a plate of moldy flatbread. Katara sighed and was about to venture upstairs when a faint glint caught her eye. She took a few paces toward the source, examining it more closely, when her heart dropped into her stomach. A butcher knife spattered with blood was lying on the far counter, a blood-soaked rag sitting next to it. And beside that was a tobacco pipe, still smoldering slightly, threads of smoke drifting up from it. That was the smell she couldn't place, she realized. She felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. That meant the blood on the knife wasn't more than a few hours old.
She wanted to run. She wanted to get as far away from that place as quickly as possible. Instinct was telling her that something was horribly wrong, that she'd stumbled on something she wasn't meant to see. But she couldn't move, her body frozen like a scene from a bad dream.
Finally she wrenched herself from her stupor and made her way as hurriedly as she could toward the door, tripping over debris, her hip colliding with a wall, uncoordinated without the use of her hands. But before she could reach the door, a gruff, unfamiliar voice came from just outside, followed by two other men's voices she didn't recognize. Her face turned pallid, a cold sweat broke over her body. Looking around frantically, she realized the only place she could possibly hide was upstairs. She bolted up the stairway as quickly and quietly as she could. Her stomach tightened, heavy as a rock. The second floor was nothing more than a loft with a single door-less room attached! Oh gods, what was she going to do?
A murmur of voices came from the foot of the stairs as the front door groaned open. Her eyes frantically swept the room for a hiding place, landing on a long, narrow door in the center of the room. She squeezed herself into the cubby hole, which turned out to be a tiny, overcrowded closet. Using her foot, she pulled the door closed as far as she could, being forced to leave it slightly ajar without the use of her hands. She never thought she'd say it, not in a thousand lifetimes, but she wished Ozai were here now.
She couldn't make out most of what the men were saying, their voices were a muffled sea of gibberish. But their tone sounded crass and vulgar, as though exchanging crude jokes and punch lines.
Her legs were beginning to burn from being tucked to her knees in the confined space. Gingerly she shifted, trying to get a bit more comfortable, when she felt her shoulder bump into a broom leaning against the wall. She cringed and watched helplessly as the broom toppled over, hitting into the opposite wall. Katara held her breath, praying to the spirits that it went unnoticed.
The voices below suddenly went silent. Every muscle in her body tensed up, her clammy hands clenched together in white-knuckled fists. Then came the footsteps, groaning and creaking on the rickety stairs, growing ever closer. Oh gods, if they found her… She had no way to defend herself. She was fresh meat.
The footsteps reached the loft and came to a stop. "Who's there?" came a husky voice. The man's pace was slow and ominous, growing nearer with every step. Katara swallowed hard, gulping down breaths to stay quiet. "There's no need to hide," he continued. "We won't hurt you."
The man was just feet away from her hiding place now. How she prayed that he wouldn't think to look in the closet…
A shadow crept across the gap just below the door and stopped. "Where could you be?" he slurred in feigned ignorance. The doorknob rattled lightly and then suddenly the door flew open. In its place stood a burly, bearded man in Earth Kingdom peasant garb. Katara shrieked and shuffled backward, going nowhere against the wall.
"Well hello, darling," the man said, leaning down with a crooked, devilish smile. "S'awfully nice to see a pretty face like yours around here. And all packaged up for us too. Hey, Hanwei! Akudo! Check this out," he called over his shoulder.
Two other men entered the room and stopped. One clapped the other on the back, a cocky grin on his face.
"Well, look at that," Hanwei remarked. "Looks like Daraku's beaten us back here, dropped off the newest shipment. She's sure an eyecatcher. Aren'tcha, honey?"
"You all stay away from me!" Katara snapped back. "I don't know who this Daraku is, but I'm nobody's shipment."
A burst of laughter broke out amongst the men. "I'm afraid that's just not true, deary," Akudo spoke up, mocked sympathy on his face. "We have a buyer in the southern Earth Kingdom who'll pay generously for a little nymph like you. We've yet to see him outbid at an auction once, and we've been to our fair share of auctions."
Katara's eyes widened, a lump formed in her throat. They were slave traders. Human traffickers.
"Now let's get you outta there and fixed up for when Daraku comes back," the first man said, whose name she picked up was Kyu. "Don't wanna slow the boss down, he likes things moving on a tight schedule." Kyu pulled Katara to her feet and dragged her back downstairs, tying her tightly to a chair. "We're expecting Daraku back tomorrow morning. Till then, you just sit tight and be a good girl and we'll all get along just fine."
.:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:.
How many ways could that girl make him miserable? Controlling her was like trying to start a fire with wet wood. Practically impossible and damn near useless. He only needed to keep up the façade a little longer, draw her just a little closer to him. He could see her resolve dwindling.
The sky above darkened with each step, signaling to Ozai that he was getting close. The rain had tapered off into a light drizzle, patches of newly-risen stars peeking through the broken clouds above. If he didn't find it soon, he'd have to wait out the night and he'd lost too much time already.
And then, as though by a stroke of fate, it came into view. The crooked, weathered nub of a headstone peeked up from a bed of tangled weeds and brambles, glossy in the rain. The archaic inscription on the stone confirmed its identity. This was it! The key to regaining his power. The key to the Avatar's destruction.
Without hesitation, he took out his dagger and began to dig. It wasn't long before he felt the thump of contact with the object. He reached in and pulled out a washed out, ragged journal, bound in fraying leather. The sage's research. All of his findings and knowledge at the tips of Ozai's 'd waited so long, so patiently for this moment. His hands quivered with anticipation as he slowly opened the journal, careful to keep it intact.
At first he thought perhaps his eyes weren't seeing clearly. After all, twilight had left him little visibility. He blinked and looked harder. Most of the pages were filled with nonsensical ramblings, gibberish. There was no order to the pages; a phrase here, a scribble there. All of his work and research jumbled together and utterly useless without the sage's help to sort it out.
Ozai gritted his teeth and wrung the book in his hands. No. This could not be! Surely there was some mistake.
Taking a deep breath, he flipped through one last time. The only legible inscription was written at the end, on the second to last page.
I've found it. A tiny, obscure tear in the cosmos. It took longer than expected, but I knew I'd find it eventually. And given the coordinates of its location, I surmise the magnetic force here would be nearly uncontainable. The energy of this place would be enough to rip a lesser man apart, but with focus and concentration I will not, must not, fail to harness its power and wield it against the Avatar. The sheer force of its energy if manipulated correctly at him, I am certain, will succeed in stripping the Avatar of his power and simultaneously transferring it to myself. If I survive this endeavor, I will be the most powerful human being in all the world! Now begs the question, how to…
The words became illegible, blotted and blurred from decades-long earth and water damage. But Ozai smiled. He knew exactly the procedure of which the sage had written. He had experienced its strength-draining agony himself not long ago, though admittedly in a different way.
Energy bending.
He could never forget the sheer intensity and anguish of feeling his life force sucked out of him bit by bit. Never could he have imagined that the experience would serve to benefit him later on. He knew exactly what it felt like, and therefore he was certain he knew how it was done. All he had to do now was find this place and lure the Avatar there.
Ozai turned the page and smiled again. He almost couldn't believe his eyes. There on the last page was a map drawn in exquisite detail to the very location. Oh, how he would make that little Avatar boy suffer. Things were finally going in his favor.
.:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:. .:.
When Katara woke, it took a few moments for her to remember where she was. The stiff muscles in her neck and the pain around her wrists brought it crashing back to her. A renewed sense of dread knotted her stomach. To her left, her captors sat at the table playing a quiet, tense of game of cards. One of them was smoking his pipe, the other tapping an agitated finger on the table, the staccato beat the only break in the stifling silence.
Fresh morning sunbeams filtered through the grimy windows, the rays of light strikingly visible inside the dusty cabin. Ozai, please hurry back.
Just then, the sound of the doorknob jiggling turned their heads toward the door. Katara perked up, inhaling a breath of hope. It was him! He'd finally returned. But her spirits crashed back down when an unfamiliar face walked through the door.
Kyu stood up to greet him. "Daraku, glad to see you made it back."
The man was tall and muscular and wore a stern expression, his narrow green-brown eyes coldly scanning the room, coming to stop on Katara. He looked around at the three other men and then back at her.
"Who's the girl?" he asked.
The other men glanced around at each other, slack expressions revealing their confusion.
"Uhm, you mean you didn't drop her off here?" Kyu asked.
"Don't you think I would've told you if I was planning a delivery?" Daraku snarled.
"Well, I mean– It's just…" he trailed off. "Yes, sir, I'm sure you would have." He waited for a response from Daraku before continuing. "So, what do you want to do with her?"
Daraku strutted slowly over to Katara, encircling her before coming to stand behind her. "Well, it'd certainly be a shame to let such a catch slip through our fingers, wouldn't it gentlemen?" He softly swept her hair behind her neck. "A pretty little thing like her? I bet there's a hundred men out there willing to outbid each other just to run their hands over that exotic skin."
Purrs of delight resounded amongst the men. Daraku knelt down to eye level with Katara, his gaze cutting into her from the corner of her eye. "You're going to make us a lot of money, sweetheart."
"Please," she heard herself whimper. "Please, don't… Just let me go."
The men snickered, making her stomach churn. A vice grip tightened around her arm as Daraku's lips lowered to her ear. "You're mine now," his gravelly voice breathed.
Footsteps just outside the door grabbed their attention, their postures suddenly stiffened, muscles rigid. Hanwei glanced around at the others and walked toward the door, stepping just out of sight of the entrance, poised to ambush any intruder. No sooner had Ozai appeared in the doorway than Hanwei thrust a blade out, the tip of it hovering threateningly against his neck.
"And just who might you be?" Hanwei barked.
Ozai froze, glowering around at the men. His gaze landed on Katara and lingered for a moment before darting back to Hanwei.
"Let her go," he growled, his voice low and menacing.
The cold steel pressed harder against his skin. "I asked you a question. You think you're in a position to give us orders?" The other men exchanged incredulous laughter.
"I'll only ask you once more." His tone was cool and collected, foreboding. "Let her go."
Hanwei snorted in amused disbelief. He seized Ozai by the arm and shoved him inside, slamming the door behind him. "Do you have a death wish, my friend?" he spat, the veins in his temples bulging out. "Do you know who you're dealing with?"
Ozai smirked, making Hanwei's eye twitch. "I don't think you know who you're dealing with."
Kyu walked over and placed a hand on Hanwei's shoulder, prompting him to step away before doing anything rash. He stood before Ozai with a strong posture, arms folded, his head cocked as he studied his face, his jaw set, eyes narrowed.
"Your face looks familiar," he drawled. "Do I know you somehow?"
Katara saw Ozai's jaw clench, a flash of uneasiness in his eyes. The other men didn't seem to notice.
"No," Ozai muttered, never breaking eye contact. "Now let her go."
Daraku chuckled and stood up, placing a cracked, dirty hand on her shoulder. "And just what is she to you?" Ozai just scowled at the man. A wide grin spread across Daraku's face. "I see. She's a little young to be your girlfriend, don't you think?"
"It's none of your concern what she is." Ozai's voice was cool and collected. "What is your concern is what will happen to you if you don't do as I say."
Daraku huffed and laughed in disbelief. "Get him outta here." He waved a dismissive hand, signaling to the others when Kyu stopped short.
"Wait, I do know you. You're the ex-Fire Lord, your face was on wanted posters all over the last town. I hear there's an unprecedented reward on your head. Looks like it's our lucky day, gentlemen."
Sauntering over to stand before Ozai, Daraku raised an eyebrow and looked him over, one corner of his mouth turned up in a pitying smirk. "The great and fearsome Fire Lord Ozai, now nothing more than a petty fugitive. I never would have recognized you. Forced retirement not treating you well?" He erupted with an ugly laugh. "Well, you can say goodbye to your little friend. After we trade you in for the reward that'll set us for life, there's a particular, uh, gentleman caller who's 'specially interested in her type. We'll be swimming in gold before too long, all thanks to you two." He winked over his shoulder at Katara and then turned back to Ozai.
"I see," Ozai responded in an odd monotone. "Well, there appears to be one small flaw in that plan of yours. Since you know who I am, I'm sure I don't need to remind you what I'm capable of. If you choose to go forward with this, you worthless vomitous mass, I can guarantee that you will not leave here with your life. If you're not entirely set on being gutted like a pig today, I'd suggest you hand over the girl and walkout of here while you still can."
Daraku's shoulders tensed, his eyes shifting nervously to his comrades and then back to Ozai. "You're bluffing," he said with strained confidence. "One man against the four of us? You wouldn't stand a chance."
"Perhaps I am bluffing. There's one sure way to find out," Ozai grinned.
Daraku licked his lips and pressed them together, scowling at Ozai before taking a reluctant step back, throwing his palms up and out in exaggerated surrender.
"Fine. You two aren't worth my time anyway," he grumbled, heading for the door and gesturing to the others. "Come on, boys. Let's get outta here."
The men shuffled out the door, leaving nothing but a heavy silence in their wake. Katara pulled in a deep, ragged breath as her eyes met Ozai's. At first he said nothing, walking over and kneeling down to cut her restraints in silence. He hesitated for a moment before finally cutting the binding he'd placed on her wrists as well.
She blinked in surprise and turned to look at him. He seemed to blatantly avoid her gaze, casting his eyes away and pushing off his knees to stand up. A shooting pain stabbed through her shoulder as she tried to stretch out her stiff arms. She hissed in pain and cradled her arm to her chest. Being unable to move, she'd almost forgotten about her injury.
"Let me see your arm," his voice came from behind her.
Katara's eyebrows lifted. "Why?"
He didn't answer, instead gently lifted her injured arm and pressed his fingers all around her shoulder, assessing the extent of the damage.
"This will be easy to fix. Hold still."
Katara flinched and jerked away from him, her eyes widened. "Wait, what?! No, don't touch me! I'll heal it myself."
"It's not a flesh wound. It doesn't work that way."
"How do you know? Let go of me."
He yanked her back into place, his gaze sharp and intense. "I just know," he spoke through his teeth with forced restraint. "Now we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way. I really hope you choose the easy way."
Katara rolled her eyes away from him, drawing in a breath and releasing it.
"Is it gonna hurt?"
"Yes," he responded casually. "A lot."
She snapped her head back to face him and shot him an angry glare. "Well, at least try not to enjoy it so much."
Ozai smirked. "I'll try. Now try to relax. And hold still."
He lifted her arm up and straight out, perpendicular to her body, keeping a strong hold on her. Katara turned away and squeezed her eyes shut, her toes curling in apprehension. All at once there was a jolt and a crack, followed by a short, agonizing pain. She shrieked through gritted teeth and then a moment later, there was relief; the aching was gone. Katara breathed a sigh and felt the tension in her body relax.
"There. Now that that's done," he said, keeping a hold on her arm and pulling her out of the chair, "we can get going."
Reaching for the doorknob, he noticed the absence of footsteps behind him and turned around.
"What are you doing? I said let's go."
Katara stared numbly at the wall behind him, her body slack, a vacant expression upon her face.
"It's just…" she stammered. "The thought of what would've happened to me." Her eyes were growing misty, her voice cracking under the weight of brimming tears. She shifted her gaze to look at him. "If you hadn't come back when you did… They were going to…"
"I know what they wanted with you," he interrupted. "There's no need to dwell on it, they're gone now."
She swallowed the lump in her throat and managed a hint of a smile. "Thank you," she sighed, choking back the tears.
Ozai's mouth pulled into a thin line, his hands tightened into fists and then relaxed again. He drew back and cast a sidelong glance at Katara before darting his eyes away.
"You're welcome," he mumbled under his breath. Clearing his throat, he opened the door. "Come," he said quietly and disappeared through the door.
Reviews are awesome and always appreciated, but of course not necessary. I hope you enjoyed and I plan to update as soon as possible :) Happy Spring, everyone!