HE HAD EXPECTED Nirvana. He had pictured lush green hills and white shores stretching out before the endless expanse of a bright blue ocean, but all it was just a murky, yellow marsh. The sickly green rivers flowed all around him in unison, twin-tailing until they spilled off into a muddy brown pool. Beyond that was a frightening grey mist where he dared not go.

This was Patala, the place where unbalanced souls resided. It was a sort purgatory where spirits were sent before being relocated to other realms. Here, the unsorted spirits waited for their negative karma to be used up so that they could be reincarnated into their next lives.

Zuko didn't much care for Patala, for its lack of time and space or the feeling of a collective consciousness slowly guiding him to his next life. However, it was better than being sent to the lowest regions of Naraka: the realm where sinners were punished in eternal fire or ice. No, it was far better to remain here in purgatory meadows, letting himself be tugged along by invisible chains into the mists of the unknown.

Still, the waiting was unbearable.

The whole routine of it vaguely reminded him of waiting in line for something, something one dreaded receiving, like a punishment or the results of an ill-fated firebending test. But this wasn't school and there was no line or real order to speak of. The spirits wandered aimlessly about, but none come close enough to touch, not that they could if they wanted.

No one here talked, either. They all just waited—waited to be relegated to a proper realm, waited for their judgement, waited to be reincarnated. Zuko wondered how long before he would be sorted. It felt like he'd been standing in this grey, featureless meadow forever, casually observing the doldrums of an odd spiritual bureaucracy with a mixture of anxiety and trepidation. It was not unlike the nerves he'd felt before his first Agni Kai.

He didn't think he had been evil enough for Naraka. Surely there were men worse than he, men with crueller desires and wickeder deeds. His ambitions had always been noble, or at least he'd always assumed they were. He truly believed that he had achieved some good in his short lifespan. Everything he had ever done had been for the good of his nation and to restore his honour.

It would be a fool's hope to wish for Svarga, with its blessed, bountiful green fields and sky blue ocean set against the backdrop of snow-steepled mountains. Svarga was a heavenly realm reserved for the heroic and the virtuous. The burning scar on Zuko's face was evidence alone that he did not belong there. He didn't deserve to rest with the champions and the martyrs.

Eventually, he was ushered towards a spirit who glowed a touch more brightly than the others. The spirit was less transparent too, less grey, wearing a red sash across his shoulder and chest. He appeared to be in charge of the sorting. A bureaucrat, if you will. He seemed to be taking down notes as well as giving information to the newly departed spirits. It was downright ridiculous to have such a system down here, but since no one questioned it, neither would Zuko.

"Name?"

Zuko's brow creased as he frowned. "Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation."

The spirit with the red sash glanced up, regarding him dryly. "Your name is good enough. No titles are needed."

Zuko scowled like a scolded child and cleared his throat, waiting for Red-Sash to continue with his questioning.

"Manner of death?"

"What?"

Red-Sash heaved a great sigh of frustration. "How did you die?"

Zuko's lips pressed into a thin line. Shouldn't they have known all of this? Why did he have to answer such stupid and obvious questions?

"A waterbender killed me—by accident."

He felt he really had to emphasise the last part. There was no way that peasant killed him on purpose. After the Avatar, she was the next in running for Goody-Two-Shoes of the Year.

"I see." Red-Sash hummed to himself, ticking off invisible items on an invisible list. "It will take a while to sort you into the proper level: we have to weigh your karma and all that. But before we can let you go back to the meadows to wait, there are some ground rules that you need to follow."

Zuko's brow furrowed deeply. There were rules in the Spirit World?

"First of all, you are a spirit in transition," Red-Sash explained. "Your soul has yet to be processed and sent to a realm where you can pay off your karma until your next reincarnation. But you should know that even while waiting here, you can affect your process, effectively determining whether you stay in Patala or descend straight to Naraka."

Zuko froze. Naraka? No, anywhere but there.

"Now, pay careful attention to what I'm about to tell you."

Zuko nodded, patiently listening to Red-Sash's warnings. And as the spirit continued to speak, the Fire Prince's eyes began to widen in surprise.

No, he didn't like it here. He didn't like it here at all.

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IT FELT LIKE she was falling, falling into a dark, limitless void. She wanted to scream, but there were no words. No sounds escaped her mouth.

Then there came the plunge.

Katara wasn't sure which hit what first: her falling into the water or the water rising up to meet her. The water warm, warmer than it should have been, and thick. When she rose to the surface, she took in a great gulp of air, but it didn't fill her lungs. A heavy pressure began to build in her head as her hair swished around her face.

Suddenly, Katara was filled with a queer sort of emptiness. Had she not been in the snow earlier? Had she not been somewhere else, some place brighter and colder?

Now she felt nothing, smelled nothing, tasted nothing. Nothing stretched out into infinity and the water began to drain away to an even darker place, and she could not help but follow with it. The next thing she knew, she was waking up near a swamp. Or was it a marsh? She didn't recall ever seeing a marsh when they flew over the North Pole, but she was standing in front of one right now—a sickly green and fog-filled marsh in the middle of nowhere, and she had absolutely no idea how she got here.

Was this a dream?

She blinked back the cold terror of confusion and tried to collect her thoughts. She could have sworn she was lying in a cave hidden on the tundra. There was a blizzard raging outside and she had to curl up next to the fire to stay warm. But now she was standing in a dark, misty place she had never seen before.

Was she dead?

Katara looked out into the mist and breathed deeply before sighing. Wherever this place was, there had to be a reason for her being here. So after a moment, she decided to descend the hill and make her way closer to the swamp.

The walk felt eternal, and accompanying her was a dirty sort of cloud that swirled around her body like a filigree curl of smoke. When she finally reached the bottom of the hill, she felt tired, as if the very air was weighing her down. She stood in front of the fog-filled marsh and frowned. She could hear the sounds of trickling water, but she saw nothing. There was only the mist.

A breeze whispered in her ear and she turned, only to be confronted by a face—a dingy, ghostly grey-brown face. She gasped in surprise as the face dissolved back into the surrounding air. She took a staggering step back and clutched at her chest in terror. That was when she realised that the mist, the clouds that had been following her, were actually spirits.

Somehow, she had entered the Spirit World.

Still clutching at her breast, Katara breathed deeply and slowly. She tried to regulate her heartbeat as best she could. Now was not the time to panic. If she managed to get here on her own, then she could get out of here on her own.

She took a hesitant step forward and then another, the next step surer than the last, until she was trudging her way along the murky path towards the equally muddy river. The spirits of the dead, nearly translucent but many in number, had begun to crowd around her, obscuring her view of the river.

"Mom," she whimpered.

She was trying her best to be brave but was failing. She wondered if her mother was here with all these lost souls. The thought saddened her and she shook it off, stepping through the throng of misty spirits. What was important was that she found a way out of here. She could freak out later when she was safely back in her own world. The living world.

Suddenly, the cloud of spirits dispersed and she saw a yellow light shining out of the mist. The eerie light drew closer until she could hear the slick sound of a boat gliding through water. She squinted, making out the lines of a humanoid shape, and swallowed back her fear. The man was almost animal-like in appearance, with a human body and a monkey-like face. His skin was covered in a thin layer of fur, but his eyes were brown and very human.

He was the boatman, the conveyor of the dead.

The rickety boat docked on the muddy bank of the river and the boatman raised his lamp, dolefully examining Katara with his large, slow-blinking eyes. Then he stretched out a hand not too far removed from a monkey's paw and shook a gnarled finger at her.

"You are not dead!"

"N-no." She shook her head, agreeing hurriedly. "No, I'm not, but—"

"Then you are not welcome here."

"But—"

"The Spirit World makes no exceptions for the living."

"But—"

"Living spirits are not permitted here," he growled. "Turn back."

"But I don't know how!"

"We make no exceptions—"

"That's not true!" Katara snapped, her temper getting the best of her.

The boatman was silenced by her outcry. He stared at her with those wide, woeful eyes of his, and his hangdog expression almost made her regret her words. Almost. However, as much as she was afraid, as much as she wanted to leave this place, she knew there had to be a reason for her being here. It couldn't have merely been chance.

Ignoring the rush of fear that flooded through her body, Katara boldly stepped towards the rickety boat.

"There have been others who have come here," she said. "Aang, for one." She was fairly certain her brother was once brought into the Spirit World too by some spirit panda, but she had a feeling Sokka's name wouldn't hold the same sort of cache down here as the Avatar's. "I am not the only living soul to ask entrance."

"But you do not ask," the boatman informed her snidely. "You demand." There was a hint of a smirk twitching at the corners of his rounded lips. "Besides, the Avatar was able to cross the bridge to this world where no ordinary mortal can and you, miss, are no Avatar." He extended a gnarled finger and pointed past her. "You must leave, now."

She was about to give up and turn back when there was a loud murmur amongst the multitude of spirits crowding the riverbank. They began to part like the mist itself, letting through a tall, vibrant spirit. He was not grey or nearly as translucent as the others, and he drifted purposely towards her.

"Allow me to have a word," the vibrant spirit said to the boatman, and the monkey-man nodded curtly before bowing in acquiescence.

Katara observed the exchange with an odd sense of wonderment before glancing up at the colourful spirit. She took in his features with a critical eye. He was exceptionally tall and broad-shouldered spirit with a barrel chest and long dark hair half-hidden underneath a white bear headdress. His eyes were a light blue, hard yet mischievous. He reminded her of her father for some reason, but she didn't feel any security with the comparison.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"I am Kuruk," the spirit replied.

Katara's eyes widened like round blue saucers. "Kuruk?" His name sounded familiar and suddenly she remembered. "Are you—are you an Avatar?" She noted his dress, his skin, the colour of his eyes. "A waterbending Avatar?"

"That is correct," Kuruk said. "And you are?"

"Katara—Katara of the Southern Water Tribe," she said proudly. "Daughter of Hakoda and Kya."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe." He briefly inclined his head, causing the ears on his white bear headdress to flop forward. "May I ask why you are here?"

"I-I don't know. I was sleeping and somehow I woke up here." She motioned vaguely to their surroundings. "I guess I got lost."

"The only lost souls down here are those who are no longer fettered to the mortal coil above." She gave him a blank look and his eyes darkened. "The dead."

"Oh." Her throat clogged at the thought and she numbly ran her hands over her very solid body. "I don't—I don't think I'm dead."

Kuruk chuckled darkly. "No, you are very much alive."

"Then how am I here?" She glanced around in confusion. "I thought only the Avatar could bridge the gap between the living world and the Spirit World." She didn't want to admit that the boatman was right, but he was.

The grey mist built up around her again. The air was so thick with it that she was almost suffocating. It was the spirits closing in on her, but Kuruk let out a sigh that shook her like a breeze and the spirits quickly dispersed in fear, making their way back to the shore.

"It is true that only the Avatar has the power to come and go at will, but powerful spirits can lure mortals here as well." A sad look briefly passed over the Avatar's face and just as quickly was gone. "Then there are occasions when the door to the underworld becomes vulnerable, especially when one is in or near spiritual portals."

"Like the Spirit Oasis!"

Kuruk inclined his head. "That is but just one door on earth."

"There are more?"

"There are many more."

Katara bit her lip in concentration. Something still didn't seem quite right. "But I wasn't at the Spirit Oasis when I somehow arrived here. I was in a cave on the tundra."

"But you were there, weren't you? You touched the sacred waters."

She had. In fact, she had used the water from the oasis to fight against Zuko.

"You became connected the moment you touched the water, the moment the Avatar opened the gateway and left it vulnerable. As a waterbender, you are already tied to Tui and La."

"Tui and La?" Her brow knit in confusion. "The moon and ocean spirits? I don't follow."

"Sometimes even powerful spirits ask favour from the gods and forsake their immortality to live on earth." He gave her a pointed look. "Such was the fate of Tui and La."

"Was?"

Kuruk pointed to the greenish grey sky above. "Right now while your body rests on earth, the Moon Spirit is in danger. Someone looks to destroy her."

"Her?"

"Tui, who dwells in the Spirit Oasis with La."

Katara bit her lip even harder, trying her best to put two and two together. "The koi pond? A-Are the koi Tui and La?"

Kuruk nodded. "The disruption of their ebb and flow has caused a crack in your world, connecting you to this one." He pointed to a red moon in the distance. "But to be able to travel here without the aid of a powerful spirit or god takes more than a breach of one of the openings. Your own spirit must also be vulnerable."

She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"You are not the first living being aside from the Avatar to make your way here." He motioned to the pitiful misty creatures behind them. "Others have come before you. Those who were brought here by powerful spirits and those who came here of their own free will, seeking loved ones."

Katara quickly waved her hands in front of her face. "No, no, no! You misunderstand. I wasn't brought here by anyone, and I certainly didn't come here seeking anyone . . ." She paused on the last word and the image of Zuko's pale, dead face flashed behind her eyes. "I-I don't think."

"The only way you are able to cross the bridge into this world is if your spirit is connected to one of the recently departed, on an intimate level."

"An intimate—" She stopped herself short and shook her head, horrified. It wasn't like that. She didn't care for the man she had killed. But that was it, wasn't it? There was nothing more intimate than taking someone's life, holding it in your hands and destroying it. "What if—what if I killed a man? A boy."

"Then it is your guilt that brought you here."

Her shoulders slumped forward. Was it really that simple? "Then how do I leave here?"

"The portal is right behind you." He motioned to a stone gateway standing in the water that she was almost positive wasn't there a moment earlier.

The gate itself appeared to be no more than an empty stone archway. Katara didn't see her world on the other side, only the mossy-green river that was beset on all sides. Curious, she turned towards the gateway but found that she could not move. In fact, she appeared to be rooted to the spot.

"Why can't I move?" She gritted her teeth, struggling in vain to break free of the invisible hold.

"Because your guilt keeps your spirit tethered here."

"My guilt?" She stopped struggling and made a squeaking noise of frustration. "Well, how do I fix this?"

"Your guilt must be absolved."

"How—how can I do that?"

Kuruk tilted his head and studied her carefully. "You already know the answer to that question."

She was about to open her mouth and retort that she didn't, when she realised that she did know. She needed Zuko's forgiveness.

"But I don't even know where he is or how to find him."

Kuruk only smiled. "If you truly want to find him, you will."

Katara twisted her mouth into a spectacular pout. Spirits and their double talk, saying everything and meaning nothing.

"But what if he doesn't forgive me?"

"Then you will return to your world where you must learn to live with your guilt like all other mortals." He shrugged indifferently. "But his forgiveness is not what concerns you, is it? You cannot forgive yourself."

Katara shook her head, her braid bouncing off her shoulder. "I can't. I took someone's life." She could feel the tears welling in her eyes, but she blinked them back. "How can I ever come back from that?"

The Avatar was silent for a moment, regarding her with a gentle look that might have been considered compassionate. "There is another way," he said at last, and Katara's chin snapped up.

"What? Tell me!"

"There is much risk involved."

"I-I'll do anything," she pleaded, "just tell me."

He paused, considering her words. "You can barter for his soul."

"Barter for his soul?" She blinked, nonplussed. She had no idea what that meant, but she was sure that she could do it. "I can do that? How?"

"It's complicated and, as I said, dangerous." He took in a deep breath. "You must understand that even here there is balance. You cannot simply reclaim a soul and raise it from the dead. There must be a balance. You must give as you take. There must be a sacrifice."

She swallowed hard. "What must I sacrifice?"

"That is for the gods to decide, for they are the ones you must convince to allow the boy to return with you to the living world."

"And if I can't—if I can't convince them?"

Kuruk shook his head. "I cannot tell you the consequences; for in order for the gods to hear your plea, the act itself must be selfless. However, the real challenge is convincing this boy to return with you."

"Why wouldn't he want to return to the living?"

The Avatar shrugged. "Things are different down here. Souls are judged and time moves slowly, sometimes in circles." He smiled thinly. "You will understand soon enough."

"Please!" She felt desperate now. "Tell me more."

However, Kuruk was already gliding away from her, back towards the water. "I cannot tarry any longer. Tui and La call out to me, and the Avatar too." He waved in farewell. "He calls to all of us now."

"Aang!" Suddenly she was running towards Kuruk. "Is he okay?"

"That is no longer your concern." Kuruk's voice was distant now. "You must quickly find the boy and convince him to return with you or else return alone."

Katara stopped running and stood still on the banks of the marsh. Kuruk's spirit was already too far away. "I will, Avatar Kuruk. Thank you!"

His voice was a whisper on the wind now, "Good luck, Katara of the Southern Water Tribe."

She blinked, for just a half-second, and when she opened her eyes, he was already gone. Once again, Katara was alone.

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