Four more years would pass before Ursa and I met again.
It was summer at Ember Island yet again; the first one I had seen in years. I arrived on the first day of the Fire Days Festival, which began on Ursa's birthday, and couldn't wait to see her. While our letters had not been as frequent as before, it was due to mutual business that helped lower the walls between us through exhaustion when we did write. I found myself being more honest with her than I was with myself, though that wasn't saying much.
Ursa didn't expect to see me, and I didn't expect to see her in the way I did.
Amidst the laughter and fires of the festival, a circle had formed around one spot that seemed unremarkable-or at least spot that seemed much less explosive than attractions that were typically the most popular.
Despite my masked face and lack of crown, much of the audience still parted for me. Even at seventeen, I intimidated my own people, from soldiers to elders to wives. Over the heads of fearless children, I watched a single dancer in with ribbons of false flame and a gown of blood red.
I immediately understood the fascination. Though dancers were common at the Fire Days Festival, none moved as she.
Her dark curls were pulled back and lifted high, save for two front strands allowed to tease at her bared neck and shoulders. The modest, yet very flattering, dress had a high halter neck that bared her shoulders and perfect back. The skirt and its layers of underskirts twirled out and floated like petals of a great flower. Her familiarly flawless face was hidden and revealed by makeup based on the somewhat-obscure-yet-still-remembered-by-most painted lady legend.
A legend cherished by my Ursa.
At times, she didn't seem to have a drop of Fire Nation in her blood. She seemed to be more of a waterbender, dancing with a slow elegance, grace, and patience that no firebender was capable of, that every swan dove envied. Then, she would speed up and spin in the most unmistakably firebender way imaginable. She was powerful and gentle, regal in humility, calm in passion, breathtaking in heat and in ice. She was the spirit of night and day, of sun and moon, of war and peace. Her arms, her skirts, her ribbons flew wildly, seemingly out of control, as though each had a mind of its own, and yet they did so in a pattern that dazzled and stunned and defined beauty itself. The moves didn't seem to be separate. She flowed from one to the next as if there was no distinction, as if they were all effortless extentions of the very first step, the very first flick of her fiery ribbons, and the very first bat of those amber-eyed lashes.
Despite her overwhelming... everything, my people had short attention spans when it came to anything that didn't involve fire or dead earthbenders.
An idea struck me out of my paralysis.
An idea that would make me feel like less of helpless, stargazed audience member and be her equal again.
I didn't notice or care that a few people were leaving. I was there to dance for the sake of dancing, out of a love for it, out of a desire to be free and independent of all cares, identity, limitations, walls... out of a desire to lose myself AND be myself, to let my emotions speak in a way words never could.
I did notice when my ribbins moved along next to real fire.
Fire as familiar to me-and as identifiably unique-as was the blue spirit mask he wore.
Ozai.
Her amber eyes met mine, and she smiled beneath that painted lady makeup, trusting me fully, probably trusting that my fire couldn't even burn her.
All the dances I'd ever performed were nothing compared to the one accompanied by his flames. I'd never felt so alive. Despite our years apart, he read my every thought, predicting which form I would move, sending out fire to match my ribbons, surrounding me in orange and red that lit up my world, and...
And letting me firebend for myself.
Ozai painted in flame. He formed dragons and flowers and rivers and pure, roaring pillars. He made them scorching and calming, fast and slow, attuned to my every move and emotion, so one in mind and spirit that his flame and my dance seemed to be one as well. His flames licked at my skirts and feet without burning them, shot forth from my hands, danced around me in sparks and steam, cradled me and propelled me forward with an energy I didn't think possible.
Her face was one of pure joy, shining through her eyes even when they were closed. She radiated more than the fire around her, and its glow on her skin transformed into a spirit the world could neither name nor contain, neither dream nor fathom before her birth.
Her every breath was a reminder of how far I would go to give her that joy.
I was free.
I was alive.
And I was surrounded by more beauty than I thought possible.
I couldn't take my eyes off her, nor could anyone else on Ember Island. The crowd for our show became so massive that I had to stop bending. She panted and glistened from the heat before vanishing into a mob of her fans.
Ursa was gone before either one of us could say a word.
We didn't see each other again until the next night. The Players were putting on Love Amongst the Dragons yet again, and I sneaked in to get the best view. Several summers ago, my friend worked for the theater and showed me where and how to climb up into the catwalks. The staff members didn't mind in the least, as long as I stayed out of the way.
Fortunately, the theater's best rafter was never needed.
Unfortunately, I was running late for the first time in years.
Love Amongst the Dragons portrays the epic romance between two spirits-one born of water, one of flame. The tale begins with a dragon spirit fleeing to our world, deeply grieved by her betrothal to the head of all fire spirits. She became trapped in a fierce storm that broke her wing and sent her sprawling to the earth. As she fell, a river widened its banks to catch her. Its water healed her, and she thanked the river with a song. The river's spirit fell in love her voice at once, and he appeared to her in a form familiar to her own.
The costumed players formed a dark blue dragon, crossing the stage as the music changed. The princess saw through his disguise and began to leave, but he wooed her with a fire lily and song of his own.
"Petals of flame, center of gold, an ember burns in the flower's folds."
Something about the song didn't make sense for that performance. There should have been one voice, not two, and the second seemed to be coming from—
Another rafter?
I turned to see a second mask-blue and grinning white teeth-identical to the river spirit's. The mask sang with a voice that left me dumbstruck. The audience below couldn't hear him. They couldn't hear how rich and deep his voice was, how smoothly it rang out. They couldn't hear that his voice left every other in the dust, beyond comparison, melting my heart beyond all reason, calling out to me in a way that the players' never had. I'd heard at least seven different men perform that song, but none managed to charm me that deeply. They'd always been singing to the spirit, wooing with apologetic humility, brazen honesty, or even boyish puppy love, but never to me. Never with an air of such modest certainty and soul-piercing understanding. Despite the masks we both wore, he saw me fully and knew me better than I knew myself. I could feel his gaze-and his voice-in the core of my being, and it was surprisingly chilly, sending a shiver done my spine and filling my stomach with the best and worst kind of ice.
Did he sense my blush? Did he sense my deep regret (and deeper gratitude) for wearing a mask from the show? It wasn't what the heroine wore in her dragon form. It was the mask she wore in the final act, after she'd been banished from the spirit world for rejecting the dragon emperor. According to dragon law, the lovers could only be reunited if they found each other in our world, the very place in which they fell in love, within a year. I wore her mortal mask, and he wore his spirit.
As the blue spirit continued the solo, he crossed over to me, strength and heat radiating from him like the sun. As mysterious and mystical as a true spirit but somehow... His hidden face was more familiar to me than my own. His better-than-perfect voice was as strange as it was instantly recognizable.
I breathed in his spirit more than I breathed in the air.
It was her turn to sing.
And her voice surpassed them all.
"Blazing flame, rarest of all, shoots across the sky, brightest in the fall. A comet's fire forever burns, fierce, irresistible, consuming our worlds."
She sounded like the sunrise, like moonlight, like dusk. This was what music was meant to be, what every singer had ever aspired to be. Some unknown corner of my mind had imagined the perfect voice, had determined that it was definitely a woman's, but I'd never expected it to exist. It didn't just exist. It was even more beautiful than my imagination could allow.
Something I'd never felt before stirred within me, making my heart blaze without anger and my stomach freeze without fear. How could passion be both hot and cool? Why were my hands shaking when I'd never been so certain of anything in my life?
And what was I certain of?
"Light that breaks the darkness, bursting in the night."
I only understood it once our voices combined, 哲othing can compare to stolen breath at the sight. A comet's streak melts all concerns..."
"Fierce, unstoppable, consuming our worlds."
"In a flash, in a blink of an eye, the future draws near-"
"But love can never truly die."
"Chase the past cause in a flash-"
"In the blink of an eye-"
"The future draws near. The blur passes away-"
"But love can never truly die."
"A comet's tail yearns, fierce, irrevocable, consuming our worlds. Two hearts torn apart-"
"But we never burn out."
"Forever bound in an endless cycle-"
"Lost love returns. A comet's tale, passion rarest of all."
We joined together once more as my hands approached his mask and his mine.
"Light that breaks my darkness, brightest in the fall."
"Blazing flame, consuming our worlds."
"Blazing flames,"I almost whispered, and my hands felt steadier than ever before as my fingers brushed the edges of her mask. As our respective fingers found each other's knots, we sang the last line together. "Brightest in the fall."
The stage lights went out as the curtain fell and as we lifted our masks. Shadow clouded our faces but not our eyes. Their glow was too bright, their fires too fierce, to be swallowed by any darkness.
Unable to breathe, unable to think, speak, or blink, I could only lose myself in those brilliant gems, and wonder at my blindness, at my memory'sfailure to capture just how perfect, infuriating, and magnificent her eyes were
His eyes. I'd forgotten what his eyes looked like.
I'd always known my memory of those eyes had paled to reality, but I'd never thought I'd lose the mental image of that hue, those molten pools, those flames…
Our faces were moving closer and closer, and I broke the spell by realizing it. I paused a breath away from her lips, and my hesitation broke the spell for her too. She fled. For the first time in her life, Ursa didn't watch Love Amongst the Dragons to its conclusion.
If I had stayed, I would've watched the lovers fall for each other deeply in the mortal world. I would've watched the chosen bride reject her dragon emperor who would've then banished her and her love from the spirit world. According to dragon law, the spirits-turned-mortal would have one year to find each other again, and I would've watched them travel the continents until, at last, they discovered each other with hours to spare. I would've watched them wed under the setting sun, singing the song that had brought them together, and I would've watched the dragon emperor's rage boil and boil until he exploded in a volcano meant to kill them. I would've watched our heroes trick the monster into destroying himself instead, burnt by his own fire.
Legend had it that our islands and volcanoes formed from that blaze, and that our nation descended from the bride and groom. Of course, legends were easily rewritten, especially for Fire Lords. Someday, Ozai would have the ending rewritten so that the couple died for their disobedience, their disloyalty to the ruler, and their tale would be a warning to all.
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