IF KATARA WERE to describe the palace of Varuna in one word, it would be resplendent. A wondrous structure to behold, the palace was built into the face of Mount Meru, surrounded by the celestial waters of Rasa. Its slender ivory towers were banded in lacy stonework, its snowy domes were capped with gold and topped with golden spires that gleamed in the dying sun. It was truly a palace built for the gods by the gods.
Awestruck, Katara and Zuko slowly make their way up the white stairs until they were stranding in the entrance hall. Their every footfall echoed on the ivory tiles, loud and intimidating. The guards here seemed to be solid, but their eyes were ghostly, following the teenagers' every movement in silence.
Katara tried to keep her features guarded. Every line on her face was blank, yet inside she was a maelstrom of emotions. Fear, worry, anticipation and impatience bounced over each other and washed through her. She wasn't quite up to the task and she knew it. However, she couldn't help but feel proud as she entered the enormous chamber with its high-vaulted ceilings. Her every footstep echoed assertively as she approached the throne of Varuna, goddess of the underworld.
The first thing Katara noticed about the goddess was her hair: it was white as snow and long, spilling over the back of her throne and pooling onto the ivory tiles below. Her skin was just as pale, almost translucent and glowing. Even the gown she wore was crystalline, like shimmering waters cascading down every fold and curve of her body. She was a beautiful ice sculpture, perfect and cold.
The goddess slowly lifted her head, her mane of snow shifting down her bare shoulders, and regarded her audience with the most brilliant blue eyes Katara had ever seen. They were like liquid pools of sapphire, deeper than the oceans. Beside her, Zuko let out a tiny gasp that sounded something like a prayer while Katara openly gaped in awe. She simply could not turn away.
This was a god.
However, Katara would not be so easily intimidated, not even by a god—or at least that's what she told herself. She had a mission to fulfil. So Katara squared back her shoulders and set her lips into a grim line of determination. She would win over this beautiful goddess with a blind confidence that she didn't even know she possessed. Like Zuko, Katara would never give up.
It wasn't bravery, however, that worked Katara's limbs to move or her mouth to open; for, in truth, she really wasn't all that brave. To be completely honest, Katara was scared out of her mind. She was scared of everything and everyone around her. But she had strength—she had the strength of her convictions, and that made her as strong as steel.
"I am Varuna," the white-haired beauty announced, her voice as calming as a steady rain. "God of the celestial waters and ruler of the Spirit World. What is it that you want?"
Katara swiftly pointed to Zuko. "I want him."
She wasn't pleading or demanding. She was just answering a simple question with an equally simple response, hoping the goddess didn't notice how badly she was trembling.
"I want to bring him back to the living."
"What is he to you?" Varuna asked.
She was impassive, this icy goddess, and Katara wondered how anyone had bargained with her before.
"He was once my enemy," Katara said evenly.
"And now?" The goddess lifted a pale eyebrow in curiosity.
"I don't know, exactly." Katara shrugged uncomfortably. "But I do know that he is not the person I once thought he was, and I have come all this way to petition for his life—a life I took."
Varuna's eyebrow rose a fraction of an inch higher. She seemed intrigued. Perhaps this was the first time a living soul had requested the return of a conquered enemy.
"How did you find your way to him?" she asked.
"Guilt," Katara answered without hesitation. It was, after all, the truth. "Luck, I guess. And determination. But mostly—mostly it was he who found me."
"And why do you believe he deserves to return to the living?"
"Because he didn't deserve to die." Katara paused, swallowing hard. "Because his death was my doing and its undoing should also be mine to petition."
The goddess regarded her dubiously and Katara struggled to keep from babbling.
"Because I believe everyone deserves a second chance, and this man—Zuko—could do good things, if given that chance."
Varuna slowly tilted her head, her long white locks cascading down her shoulders. "That is not reason enough to allow his return."
"Isn't it, though?" Katara shook her head. "I thought life and death was all about balance. What balance does he serve down here? Maybe—maybe he can help turn the tide and bring balance to our world above."
Varuna paused. She seemed to be considering. "But you cannot guarantee that he will balance the scales," she reasoned. "You simply cannot bet on off-chances."
"Why not?"
"Because, as a living soul you have nothing to bet with." The goddess frowned. "You risk nothing."
Katara puffed out her chest with indignation. "Then I will bet my own karma on the off-chance that he will."
Zuko stepped forward. "Now wait just a minute—"
Varuna raised a hand and effectively silenced the prince. Her blue eyes seemed to dance in the moonlight that spilled into the throne room. Those same eyes narrowed on Katara.
"You would wager the karma of your eternal soul on a hunch?"
Katara inwardly winced at the goddess's words. Well, when it was put that way, it did sound rather foolish. However, Katara had always been known for thinking with her heart and not with her head.
"I have seen his past," she told the goddess. "I have seen him help others, placing strangers and even enemies above of himself. I have seen the welfare he has for his people." The scar on his face proved that. "I believe he can do good, if you will just give him that chance."
Varuna sat back in her throne and regarded the teenagers studiously, silently contemplating. Her gaze was intimidating and terrifying, but Katara held her ground. After a pregnant pause of silence, the goddess stood up and descended from her throne. She made her way towards the teenagers, her footfalls feather-light; her bare feet did not make even the slightest whisper on the ground, nor did her watery gown that seemed to magically float along the floor.
"Your plea is heard," she said, "and your petition is granted. You may return to the living world at dawn, together."
Relief flooded Katara's system all at once. However, before she could even thank the goddess, Varuna was already gliding past them down the steps, trickling like water.
"Follow me," she commanded.
Like moonlight hitting water, Varuna shimmered in the darkness and then disappeared out of the main chamber. The teens quickly took off in pursuit, following her down a series of hallways that grew dimmer and dimmer as they went, with only the goddess herself serving as their light.
Zuko was out in front, leading the way behind Varuna, when Katara suddenly lost sight of them. She called out Zuko's name and inwardly cursed herself for how frightened she must have sounded. She made a full circle, lost in the darkness, until she bumped into something solid and warm. Hands latched onto her shoulders and she had to stop herself from shrieking.
"I'm right here."
Suddenly there was a flame lit in Zuko's palm and Katara could finally see. She was grateful that he could bend here, and she absently wondered if she could, too. However, now was not the time to test that theory.
They quickly caught up with the goddess, who was glowing like the pale moon outside. Her gown seemed to be made of the same celestial waters that surrounded the palace. It looked wet to the touch.
"Just around this corner is your room," she said, pointing up ahead.
"Room?" Katara furrowed her brow in confusion. She thought the goddess was leading them out of the Spirit World, not to a bedroom—certainly not one to be shared between her and Zuko.
"You will leave at daybreak," Varuna informed them. "I imagine you both have much to discuss—to say your goodbyes."
Goodbyes? Katara chewed on her bottom lip. This goddess didn't seem to have much faith in them, or her specifically.
Varuna smiled benevolently at the teenagers and inclined her head in farewell. Then, with a whisper of movement, she glided back down the hallway that now shimmered white like moonlight.
Katara watched the goddess go with a pensive frown before following Zuko down the hall. When the entered the bedroom, Katara couldn't help but grimace. The room itself was spacious. It even had a large bay window that overlooked the moonlit waters below. However, there was only one bed and one chair. Nothing else. For a bedchamber in a celestial palace, it was sparsely furnished. Katara couldn't help but wonder where she and Zuko were supposed to rest.
The teenagers both eyed the bed greedily, until Zuko pointed a determined finger at it and glared over his shoulder at Katara. "You are not getting that bed!"
"Why shouldn't I? What makes you so special?"
"I'm dead," he said simply.
Katara glowered at the prince. That was his answer for everything. She wanted to say that she should have the bed since she was the one who was freeing him from the Spirit World, but then she was the one who had sent him here to begin with. It wasn't exactly a winning counter-point. So instead of bickering, she decided that a compromise was in order.
Katara slowly circled the canopied bed, taking in its size and inviting plushness. She glanced at the chair, and its noticeable lack of comfort, and turned back to the bed. She was suddenly feeling very sleepy.
"This bed is big enough for the both of us," she reasoned.
Zuko took an apprehensive step back. "I'm not getting into bed with you!" The back of his neck and ears were already flushing a bright pink.
"I didn't—that's not what I meant," she said, exasperated.
"Then what did you mean?"
Katara's mouth worked soundlessly before she dropped her shoulders in defeat. "Ugh, that. But it's not like I want to cuddle with you or anything," she added quickly.
Zuko stared at her like she might as well suggested that they fornicate right then and there.
"You stay on your side and I'll stay on mine," she said. "Never the twain shall our bodies meet."
Zuko kept his gaze warily fixed on her for a moment before nodding reluctantly. "Fine." He pointed to the right side of the bed. "This is my side and that's yours. And this—" he picked up a pillow and laid it down the middle like a vertical divide "—this is the line that separates us. Don't even think about crossing it."
Katara rolled her eyes. Whatever. "I'll try my best to resist, Your Highness."
Both teenagers then carefully folded back the blankets on their respective sides of the bed and climbed inside. Backs to each other, and separated as far apart as possible, they sighed in unison and waited for the inevitable weariness of sleep to take over.
ஐ
DESPITE BEING EXHAUSTED, Katara found that she could not sleep. How could she begin to find peace in a strange bed, in an even stranger place, with such a strange boy sleeping next to her?
Zuko didn't seem to be faring much better. He was tossing and turning, trying to shift himself into a comfortable position before settling on his back with a sigh.
"Can't sleep?" Katara asked.
He didn't answer.
"Neither can I." She folded her hands behind her head and breathed deeply. "I can't wait to return home, back to the land of the living."
"I have no home to return to."
Katara brought her arms back down under the covers. She suddenly felt rather uncomfortable. She forgot that Zuko was a banished prince. Not just banished but deprived of his ship and crew. He was as alone in the living world as he was in death.
"You have your uncle," she said, regretting the words the moment they slipped out of her mouth.
Zuko muttered something unintelligible and she didn't bother to ask him to clarify. An uncomfortable silence settled between them and Katara twiddled her thumbs underneath the sheets. She felt as though she should say something, but this was Zuko. Anything she said was going to be ignored or guffawed at. However, Katara couldn't simply ignore him. There was this unmistakeable feeling of unease weighing on her chest. It had been there ever since she turned down the path to arrive here, experiencing Zuko's past as he relived it.
"I know how you feel," she said quietly.
He snorted derisively. "How could you possibly know?"
There was bitterness and condescension in his tone and, though she knew she should try to be patient and sympathetic, something inside her snapped.
"Would you just listen to what I have to say for once!" She sat up and smoothed her hands down her tunic, trying to calm herself down. "I know—I know what it's like to lose a part of your family. I lost my mother when I was very young."
Her confession was met with silence.
A minute later and Zuko still hadn't spoken. For a second, Katara thought he had fallen asleep, but then there came a soft, "How?"
"The Fire Nation," she answered, after a while. "They came to our village looking for a waterbender. A soldier entered our home, demanding my mother tell him who the waterbender was." She stared at her hands, digging a nail underneath her thumb. "It was just me and my mom. I was so scared. But my mom, she told me to go fetch my dad and when I came back—" her voice faltered "—it was already too late."
"Your mother told the soldier that she was the waterbender."
"Yes." She nodded sadly. "My mother died protecting me, so I do know how you feel." She lifted her chin and looked at him directly. "I know what it feels like to blame yourself."
Zuko's mouth worked open but no sound came out, not at first. He turned away, exhaling hotly through his nose, and then forced himself to meet her eyes again.
"But what happened to your mother wasn't your fault."
Katara smiled sadly. "What happened to your mother wasn't your fault, either."
Both went silent again. Katara rubbed her tear-stained cheeks before wiping her nose with the back of her hand. This was the second time she had cried in front of him. Whatever had caused her to become so emotional in his presence?
"You know—" she settled back on the pillow "—I used to hate you."
"Really?" he drawled. "I would have never guessed, what with you killing me and all."
She almost laughed. "No, I mean I decided to hate you before I even knew you."
He raised his good eyebrow at this.
"Part of it had to do with you chasing after Aang and tying me to a tree," she said, and he shifted uncomfortably beside her. "But it was more than that. See, I always associated everything evil with the Fire Nation, especially soldiers and the royal family. Even you. No, especially you. Because of what that man did to my mother, I assumed that you were just as capable."
"Sadly, we are all capable of doing what he did," Zuko said morosely.
"You're right—we are all capable of horrible things, but you are not a murderer, Zuko." She pointed to herself. "I am, but you are not. You tried to capture Aang so many times, but you never hurt him, not even close. In fact, you saved him."
"What are you trying to say?"
"I'm trying to say that I'm sorry."
"Don't." His fingers were on her lips. "Don't apologise."
Katara almost went cross-eyed trying to look at his fingers. They felt rougher than she imagined. They were calloused and hot. He was gazing intently at her mouth and then he hastily pulled his hand away as if her lips had scalded him. Katara thanked the spirits that it was just dark enough in the room for him not to see her blushing.
"You did what you had to do in order to protect your friend," he said, after unceremoniously clearing his throat. "You have every right to hate my country and my family, especially me. I've been chasing you all across the world. I must have looked mad to you." He paused thoughtfully. "But what that man did to your mother was unforgivable, and wrong. And I—I'm not really even sure anymore if this war is right anymore."
"Zuko?" She watched him closely. It felt as if she was looking at him for the first time. Was this the real Zuko?
"Never mind." He shook his head. "Let's just call it a truce for now. Okay?"
He extended an arm to her and she stared at it dumbly for a moment before some half-remembered speech from Sokka on the manly tradition of grasping another man's forearm sprang to mind. She extended her own arm in return and grasped his with a firm shake.
"It's a deal."
After a moment, they let go and settled back onto their respective sides of the bed, with Zuko's pillow still acting as a natural divide.
Katara felt temporarily recharged. Her senses were piqued to a degree of wakeful readiness.
Goodnight, then, was what her brain wanted to say, but her mouth seemed to have other plans—ones that mainly involving babbling. And so she unwittingly attempted to liven the mood with tales of sucking on frozen frogs and telling horribly unfunny jokes, most of which she forgot to properly deliver the punchline for.
When Zuko didn't so much as smile, she nervously rubbed at the spot behind her ear. "Uh, Sokka's usually much better at telling jokes than I am."
"You don't say."
She sucked on her bottom lip, feeling the tips of her ears burn with embarrassment. Yeah, she wasn't exactly good with the telling of the jokes, but Zuko wasn't exactly good with the hearing of them, either. They had reached an impasse in their conversation and she had no idea where to go from there or what to do next.
"How about we try to get some sleep," Zuko suggested dryly. "Who knows what sort of craziness we'll face tomorrow."
Katara nodded in tired agreement and settled back into bed, pulling the covers up to her chin. She watched Zuko turn over on his side, facing her with his eyes closed. He was already falling into a deep slumber.
Sokka's the same way, she thought enviously. He'd fall asleep at the drop of a hat and be completely dead to the world. He would tell her it was a warrior thing, but she was convinced it was really just more of a guy thing.
Her eyelids suddenly grew heavy and she realised that she was indeed tired and no longer fighting the urge to sleep. As her eyes began to flutter shut, her gaze once more drifted to the Fire Prince's sleeping form. She watched the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed and the way his face relaxed in his sleep, giving him a gentle, boyish look. Then her eyes focussed on the ugly scar on his throat, the one she had given him, and she frowned. She did this to him—she did. Could he trust her to rescue him from here? Could she trust herself?
Eyes finally sliding shut, Katara let out a soft sigh in relaxation. She didn't have all the answers, and she wouldn't know for sure if she could return Zuko until she tried, but she would try. She would try for the both of them.
ஐ
KATARA WOKE IN the middle of the night, or what she assumed was night (it was hard to tell down here), and rolled over onto something solid: Zuko's chest. Like something out of a nightmare, she slowly turned her head to look up at his face, to see if he was still asleep. Instead, she was met by two bright golden eyes staring down at her quizzically.
She let out a scream of terror that ended up sounding more like a squawk and jerked herself off his chest. The top of her head connected with his chin and she heard him grunt before she promptly fell off the bed. She quickly got back up on her knees and cautiously peered over the edge of the mattress at the prince.
How did he end up on her side of the bed?
"What did you do that for?"
His large hand was covering his mouth and chin, smothering multiple expletives. After a few seconds, he removed his hand and sniffed. Katara didn't see any blood or broken teeth, so she didn't think he really should have been complaining this much. Really, were all men such babies?
"Why are you on my side of the bed?" she demanded.
"Your side?" Zuko blinked and looked to his left, seeing the empty expanse he had travelled across to get to her side. "Oh."
He quickly shuffled over as an apology and, after a while, Katara hesitantly slipped back under the covers. She eyed him suspiciously, as if he might try to sneak-cuddle her when her guard was down. She had no idea why he would want to get close to her. She wasn't exactly a running warm type of person. In fact, her body temperature was rather cool. It would have made more sense for her to be on his side, seeking the natural warmth of his body—and it might have explained why she had woken up with her head cradled on his chest. She brought the sheets up over her nose at the thought, trying to hide her blush.
Several moments of silence passed and Katara eventually drifted back to sleep, only to be awoken by a gentle dip in the bed. She opened her eyes and turned her head to see golden eyes glowing eerily in the darkness.
"Did you really mean what you said?" His voice was surprisingly soft, so much so that she wasn't sure she had heard him at first.
"What?" She yawned, turning over on her side as she tucked the blankets underneath her chin. She had said a lot of things today.
"What you told Varuna—that you thought I could do some good in our world."
Katara paused. She could see the outline of Zuko's face in the moonlight. She had never seen him look so earnest, so vulnerable.
"Yes, I did," she said, and then corrected herself, "I do."
He seemed unsure of her answer, so she clarified.
"You said it yourself: we are all capable of horrible things. Once I could only see the bad in you, but coming down here and seeing you—the real you—I know now that there is good in you, too. Real goodness."
What she didn't tell him was that she respected him and, much more frightening than that, she trusted him. However, she couldn't be sure he felt the same about her. Any why would he? It was probably hard to fully trust the person who killed you.
"Look, I don't know if anything will change when we return or if we'll just go back to being enemies, but right here, right now, you have my trust. So much so that I'm willing to risk my karma." She offered him a lopsided grin. "Consider it intuition or just plain craziness, but I have faith that you're a good person, Zuko."
The prince went silent then, mulling over her words.
"So, you think I can be like you, one of the good guys?" he asked, and she nodded. "I don't know." He shook his head thoughtfully. "I don't think I'd be good at being the hero."
"I think you'd do fine," she murmured sleepily into her pillow. "You just need to believe in yourself—" she yawned loudly "—and allow others to believe in you."
Katara's eyes were already closed when she said the words, so she hadn't seen the way Zuko was staring at her or the shy but proud grin that had surfaced on his lips.
ஐ
VARUNA'S GUARDS CAME for them at daybreak.
The teenagers were already awake and ready to go. Katara was hollow-eyed and yawning while Zuko looked pale—paler than usual, anyway. They weaved their way through the empty hallways and stumbled down the stairs until they reached the entrance hall. Beyond that was the throne room.
When they stepped inside, they expected to see Varuna. Instead, there was a man: a beautiful young man dressed in golden armour that shone as dazzling as the sun. In fact, he was so bright that Katara had to shield her eyes at first.
His skin was golden like the sun and glowing with radiance. He was draped in brilliant gold armour, from the nape of his neck to the bottom of his feet. The light from his armour was so blinding that Katara could barely make out the insignia on his broad chest. It almost looked like a flame. His hair, which was raven-black and long, was half-queued in a topknot, and fitted perfectly inside was a gold crown shaped like the sun.
He was silent, standing next to Varuna's throne. His hands were held behind him at the small of his back, his legs only slightly spread apart. He looked at ease but also coiled at alert. That hair of his, black like ink, was sleek and almost as long as Varuna's snow-white mane. And while Varuna was haunting and pale like the moon, this man was blinding like the sun.
Katara offhandedly wondered if this stranger was Varuna's husband. He was handsome and boyish, a bright contrast to the timeless and surreal beauty of Varuna. Though opposites, they somehow seemed like a perfect fit.
"Who are you?" Katara asked suddenly, unable to stop the words from tumbling past her lips.
"Who are you?" the stranger shot back playfully.
Zuko, who had pinched her arm so forcefully that she yelped, hissed in her ear, "That's Lord Agni! The god of fire."
"Oh."
Zuko had let go of Katara's arm and was already abasing himself on the ivory tiles while the waterbender stared at this magnificent god with a slacken jaw. She was shamefully embarrassed for a moment, but the fire god didn't seem to mind her lack of recognition or her lack of respect. It was then that she noticed the hard slant of his cheekbones, the bow of his mouth, the slight raise of his eyebrows and the gentle glow of his golden eyes. He reminded her of Zuko—an older, non-scarred, shining brighter than the sun version of Zuko—and for some reason that made her blush.
"I am Katara," she finally said, bowing lowly, "daughter of Hakoda and Kya."
Agni's eyes were both light and hard and his lips had curled at the corners into a fetching smile. "So you are the mortal who killed this boy here and petitioned for his return to the living?" He motioned to Zuko, who was already back on his feet with his head bowed lowly.
"Yes, I am."
"I see." Agni's eyes curved with a hint of mirth. "The guards outside will escort you to Varuna. She will show you to the gate that will return you to your world above."
Both Katara and Zuko bowed in unison, expressing their thanks. They were about to leave when Agni called out to them.
"One moment. I would like to speak with you." His eyes were on Katara and he held out his shining hand. "Alone, if you will."
Foolishly, Katara looked back at Zuko for support, but the prince's eyes were bulging, silently demanding that Katara submit to Agni's request or else be smote with fire (by his or the god's). With a measure of courage she didn't know she possessed, Katara squared back her shoulders and took Agni's hand. Willing or not, she was about to hold palaver with the god of fire himself.
.
ஐ
·
OUTSIDE THE THRONE room, in the entrance hall, Zuko paced and he waited. And waited. Katara had been gone for a long time, or at least it seemed so to him. Maybe it was because he was curious what the god of fire had to say to a relatively unimportant water peasant. He couldn't help but be envious. Zuko would have given his good eye to hold court with the lord of all firebenders.
Finally, Katara stepped outside, slipping out of the throne room like a thief in the night. She was red all over and trembling, not once taking her eyes off her feet.
"What did he say?"
"Nothing!" she whispered hurriedly, refusing all eye contact. "Just drop it!"
She brushed past him, making a beeline for the two guards who were patiently waiting outside to escort them to Varuna. Zuko peeked back inside the throne room. Agni was no longer there. He was gone. Vanished. Zuko's mouth puckered into a disappointed frown.
He turned back to Katara, who was fidgeting with her tunic. She must have felt his eyes on her for she stopped, turned around and snapped her fingers at him before slapping at her thigh like an owner calling for her pet to follow. When he glared at her, her eyes widened in shock, as though finally realising the absurdity and degradedness of the act. Her cheeks flushed scarlet before she promptly swivelled around.
Zuko shook his head with a scowl. This blushing idiot was the one who would damn him, he told himself with a resigned sigh. But then . . . but then she might very well be the blushing idiot who would save him.
.
ஐ
·
THE GUARDS LED Katara and Zuko outside to the shores of the celestial waters where Varuna was already waiting. The goddess looked almost corpse-like against the backdrop of the rising sun. The night was definitely Varuna's time to shine, whereas the day was for Agni. Still, the goddess was hauntingly beautiful no matter what light she was in.
Varuna lifted a pale arm, signally for the guards to leave and for the teenagers to come forward. She then guided them along the golden-white sands to another stone gateway, not unlike the one Katara came through. Although this one was much bigger, opening up into a long arching bridge and a set of stairs that ascended into the clouds.
"This is the bridge to the living," Varuna said softly. "At the end of this bridge are a set of stairs that will return you to the living world. Go gently."
Katara and Zuko stepped forward together and were about cross the threshold when Varuna called out to them. Both turned expectantly, faces wearing identical quizzical expressions.
"You must go first," Varuna said to Katara. "You must walk before him and trust that he will follow you. It is your mission to guide him to safety."
Katara swallowed hard but nodded in affirmation. Varuna opened the gateway for them and they walked forward again. Suddenly, the goddess was standing directly in their path.
"Before you go, Katara, daughter of Hakoda and Kya, you should know that you alone will be tested on this path. At no point can you turn around, nor can you call out to him. If you do, he will be lost to you forever—sent to Naraka, the hell of the underworld, where he will dwell until his next reincarnation."
"W-What?" Katara felt like she had been punched in the gut, the wind knocked out of her lungs. Hell? Her world turned black and she took a staggering step back. "N-No one ever told me that! I-I didn't—I didn't know." She turned to Zuko. "Did you?"
He failed to meet her gaze and she felt her heart plummet into her stomach. She felt nauseated. He knew. He knew all along and he let her convince him to come here. Why? For what purpose? Did he want to punish himself?
"The road taken here was Zuko's trial alone," Varuna explained. "It was a quick balance of karma, a short-cut to reincarnation or internment."
"But the sacrifice—"
"The sacrifice has always been his soul, to free it to the world of the living or to banish it to the ice and fires of Naraka." The goddess's blue eyes darkened. "Your penalty was to suffer humility; to know that you chose yourself over another. It never crossed your mind that your acts could only further punish him."
Katara's knees buckled. She tried to breathe but found no air. Varuna was right. She had never once thought how any of this could harm Zuko. She had never bothered to listen to what he wanted. Bile rose to her throat. What had she done?
"With all due respect, I disagree."
Katara swivelled her head around in shock. Zuko was standing beside her. His eyes were level on the goddess.
"I don't believe that she chose herself over me," he said. "She's not that sort of person. I think it's true that she feels guilt for what she did, but I believed her when she told you she thought I could serve a purpose greater than myself. I believe her still. That is why I think her goals are selfless. She will not fail."
"Zuko."
"Don't let it go to your head!" he snapped, but there was a hint of a smile on his lips. "I need you to be that sickeningly hopeful girl I once tied to a tree."
"Tied to a tree?" The goddess was intrigued, but Zuko ignored her.
"Can you do that?" He turned to face her. "Can you lead me out of here?"
"I-I can," Katara stammered, momentarily at a loss for words. She felt fear, of that there was no doubt, but it was small and tightly contained, swallowed whole now by sheer determination. "I will."
Zuko's Adam's apple bobbed nervously in his throat, but he nodded, pleased enough with her answer. He offered her his hand and helped her to her feet, and she smiled appreciatively. Both of them were playing the hero now, defending and depending on one another, and it was now up to Katara to validate her promise. It was up to her to bring this prince back to the land of the living.
"Goodbye," Varuna said, quietly smiling. "And good luck."
Katara craned her neck to look up at the intimidating bridge beyond the arc. She could feel Zuko staring at her back, but she did not move. Her limbs were twitching and her body was aching to turn around, but her spine had turned to steel and she took in a deep breath.
She strode forward.
She could do this, she told herself, hoping against hope that Zuko would follow. For there was no turning back now. In both life and death, they were inextricably bound, and she would bring the Fire Prince home.
ஐ