Chapter 6: Unorthodox

Sokka didn't know how to break it to the airbender. The Southern Air Temple was empty now for a reason. A horrible, unjustifiable reason. Yes, Aang was a kid and wasn't deserving of this, and he would no doubt be devastated that everyone he grew up with and loved, every speck of his culture and people, every reminder of Monk Gyatso, the boy's mentor and guardian, were wiped out due to the Fire Nation's quest for power.

But the truth couldn't be hidden from him forever.

"Aang…I hate to say this, but… the Fire Nation killed a lot of our waterbenders, and if it hadn't been for pure luck and the Spirits' grace… we would've lost our mother, too." Katara placed her hand on the boy's shoulder, "They could have done the same to your people…"

"Just because no one has seen an airbender doesn't mean the Fire Nation killed them all," Aang said hopefully, "They probably escaped!"

And that was enough for Katara's already-existing motherly instincts to amplify in number. Sokka could only frown through it all, wishing that shielding the boy could work but knowing that it wouldn't. But of course, he would still play along and take the brunt of the monk's airball kicks and join him as he pried open the untouched secrets of the Air Temple.

"And with you, we have all the Avatars here," Katara remarked, her voice echoing through the vast sanctuary that Aang had pulled them into, insisting on survivors. They instead found a bunch of Avatar statues.

Sokka kept his arms folded, drawling, "Yep, the gang's all here," as he stared ahead, his attention quickly morphing into disinterest in the wake of his hunger and annoyance at Katara's sugar-coating of a harsh reality. In contrast, Aang gazed at the statue closest to him, dazed as he identified the sculpture as that of Avatar Roku, the Avatar before him.

"You were a firebender?" Sokka squinted at Roku, "No wonder I didn't trust you when we first met!"

But the Avatar Spirit had also taken on the bodies of earthbenders and waterbenders, men and women, rich and poor, everyone.

"There's no writing," Katara noted. "How do you know his name?"

"I'm not sure," Aang simply said, "I just know it somehow."

"You just couldn't get any weirder," Sokka grumbled, trying to silence his growling stomach, but he noticed that Aang was still lost in thought. The monk was still locking his gaze with the stone-cold stare of Roku's statue.

"Someone's missing," Aang eventually said.

"Who?" Katara asked.

"Avatar Yue."

"Yue?" Sokka raised his eyebrows, "That sounds like a Water Tribe name."

"I don't know how I know that name, but… I feel like that person should also be here…" and the airbender looked around, spotting the other Avatars.

Sokka zeroed in on the waterbender Avatars, skeptical glances jumping from one to another. "'Yue' means 'moon,'" the warrior mused. "And it sounds like a girl's name."

"A female waterbending Avatar," Katara also traversed the rows of statues, her eyes lighting up. Being the last waterbender of the South Pole, she grew excited at the prospect of being in the vicinity of a powerful waterbending tribeswoman — even if in statue form— who wielded great power and a strong leadership position. "Which row does she belong in, Aang? Do you think you can sense what she looks like?"

"I don't know," Aang seemed to be dazed again for a moment. "If I'm being honest…when I saw the Moon Spirit tapestry at your place, your goddess seemed very familiar to me. I didn't understand why because I know for a fact that I'd never met anyone like that. And I was kind of afraid to figure out why I felt that way. I thought it was because I was apparently part spirit myself…"

"You're saying that she belongs here?" Sokka asked, his interest piqued, "Are you saying she's the Avatar?"

"But you're the Avatar," Katara turned to the monk. "She's the Moon Spirit. And I know she's known by many names, but 'Yue' isn't one of them. 'Yue' is a word that means moon in our dialect, but it's not really used in our chants. Very few people name themselves that, too…"

But Sokka was repeatedly reminded of his dream, of the woman with eyes that glowed with the same intensity that Aang's eyes had when the monk had entered his Avatar State to ward off the Fire Prince. Sokka could clearly picture that woman's silhouette, the way her face was hidden in the starless midnight sky, the way she cast her stare upon the world as she took the place of the moon. The subtle glare that she burrowed into his soul…

"But as far as I can sense…I think all the waterbending Avatars here are in the right order," Aang said, looking around again.

"But you said she was missing," Sokka persisted.

"It does feel like she's missing, but she doesn't belong in any of these other rows."

"But you were the one who said she belonged here," Sokka groaned, "It doesn't make sense. Unless if she's after you in the order or something."

"After?" Aang blinked.

"Yeah. Isn't that the cycle? Air and then water?"

"Oh my Spirits, Sokka, there can only be one Avatar at a time, I keep telling you this," Katara said, annoyed.

"I know that's probably a rule or whatever but it's the only logical explanation." Even if logic wasn't remotely the right word to describe the young monk's intuition or the cryptic messages these statues seemingly gave off. "I'm just saying, what if you're having visions of the next Avatar or something like that?"

"But Tui is the Moon Spirit, not an Avatar," Katara reminded.

"Can't you, I dunno, do both?"

The Southern waterbender shook her head, turning back to Aang, "Maybe you're just feeling a spiritual connection with Tui because she's the Moon Spirit. I think your Avatar Spirit is reacting strongly to her presence." Looking at the other waterbending Avatars, zooming in on reminders of the moon that never failed to graze some part of their outfit or skin, whether it be the full moons of their armor or the crescent tattoos engraved onto the arms of the statues.

"Our ancestors always said the moon is like a giant natural magnet," Katara went on. "The moon is an important source of our existence and survival. She draws everyone in like she draws the waves. I wouldn't say it's a surprise that people can't turn away from her."

"But even if that was the case, where did the name 'Yue' specifically come from?" Sokka asked, resisting the urge to yawn at his sister's sentiments.

"Oh, I don't know, because Yue means moon, and the Moon Spirit is the moon?" came Katara's irritable quip, "You act like you're the only logical one around here."

Sokka ignored her and turned to Aang, asking with utmost seriousness, "Alright, Airboy, are you sure sure that there can't be two Avatars at the same time? 'Cause I've been having these visions, alright? And this tribesgirl in my dream is always glowing and—"

"Keep your nonsense to yourself," Katara frowned. "An immature sexist like you having visions of an all-powerful tribeswoman Avatar? I don't even know if your brain can handle that kind of image."

"Nonsense, huh?" the growl of his stomach overpowered the last of his care, "Well everything that's happening here sounds like nonsense to me. Sorry for not differentiating between good and bad nonsense."

"Don't take it the wrong way, Sokka," Aang said kindly. "It's not like we don't want that to be the case."

"There's just a cycle to be followed," Katara said. "Water, earth, fire, air, then the cycle repeats."

We can't rely on a damn cycle if millions of people are dying. But he left it unsaid. Perhaps the Avatar Spirit was actually all about tradition and procedure as opposed to saving the world. Silly me for thinking otherwise.

"Was there a past Avatar who was connected to the moon somehow?" Katara asked Aang.

"I don't know," Aang shrugged, rubbing his head, "Everything seems…blurry…"

"It's okay. You don't have to stress yourself," Katara smiled at him. "We'll figure things out along the way."

Sighing, "You know what'll clear up our brain fog? Some meat!" Sokka grabbed his boomerang, "And I'm off to find some."

As it turned out, his hypothesis and his efforts to find meat turned out to be unsupported. A wild chase of a rambunctious winged lemur, the discovery of Fire Nation armor amid the ruins, the horrendous sight of Monk Gyatso's skeleton, and a spine-chilling session of calming Aang's Avatar State later, the trio stepped away from the temple ruins, set to head back on their journey. Aang, exhausted from his grief and from having accessed his Avatar State, leaned against Katara for support. Her arm was fiercely wrapped around him, silently reiterating to him what she and her brother had wholeheartedly promised him.

"Monk Gyatso and the other airbenders may be gone, but you still have a family. Sokka and I, we're your family now."

They decided to take the lemur with them as a new friend and a token of remembrance. After partaking in his share of the fruits that he bought for the trio, the lemur curled up on Aang's shoulder.

"You, me and Appa…we're all that's left of this place," Aang had told the lemur upon taking one last look at his old home. "We have to stick together."

Sokka supposed he could be friends with and simultaneously protect a lemur that he originally intended to have as dinner. And indeed, the lemur — Momo— was cherished quite quickly by all; he was a quiet reminder of the little things that still remained, the mischievous remnant of a place that would likely never return to its old glory.

And as they eventually soared into the skies, leaving the abandoned temple behind, Sokka sighed discontentedly over how wrong it supposedly was to expect two Avatars. How hoping for more than one "savior of the world" was sheer absurdity in a war-torn world. He draped the sleeve of his coat over Momo's shivering form in his lap, grumbling inwardly at the justification for a "cycle" that left everything in the hands of a kid— a twelve-year-old kid who knew nothing of violence and war, who didn't even like to swat the most annoying of beetle-flies, who was undeserving of the grief that the war had left him with. Whose pacifist people were especially undeserving of such destruction.

The Avatar State may bring great power, but it was also supposedly heartless enough to leave the fate of the world solely in the hands of vulnerable people. Sokka may be far from motherly, but he was going to protect Airboy no matter what it took.

"Thank you for having me, esteemed General Iroh."

Prince Zuko tried not to come off as too harsh in demeanor, cognizant of his breath of fire that flared whenever his temper sizzled. Iroh kept an eye on his nephew, placing a cautious hand on the young man's shoulder as he smiled at the official sitting before the two of them, "It is an honor to have you here, Admiral Azimaz."

"Please, Azi is fine."

"We wish to congratulate you on your new ranking in the new Dragon Division," Iroh told him. "We have heard about your achievements. Your promotion is well-deserved."

"It truly means a lot coming from you, sir. My meager efforts can never compare to your military prowess. To this day, the Siege of Ba Sing Se remains the Fire Nation's greatest military expedition." A failed one, but that did not have to be said aloud. "I must say you are my inspiration."

A courteous smile followed, accompanied by a bow of appreciation as Azimaz poured more tea into the cup sitting in front of the Fire Lord's brother. The admiral then attempted to refill Zuko's cup but earned a prompt, "No, I'm fine."

"Prince Zuko, where are your manners?" Iroh turned to him.

Lowering his tone, "I mean, no, thank you."

"Not a problem, Prince Zuko," Azimaz set the teapot down.

"I see that you are gifted with humility, Admiral," Iroh noted. "How rare it is to personally be poured tea by someone of your position. Officials lesser than you in rank look to servants for manners these days."

"How insecure does one have to be about one's status if he refuses to pour tea to his friends and heroes?"

Kiss-up, the prince breathed, but he was forced to keep a straight face with his uncle repeatedly glancing in his direction, a wary look insisting that he keep calm.

"We are honored to have someone like you visit our ship," Iroh then remarked to the admiral. "To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"I just wanted to see how our prince was faring after the recent accident in South Pole waters." Casting Zuko a knowing look, "It is concerning, after all, to hear of the feats a twelve-year-old airbender— that, too, the last of his kind— has done to subdue the efforts of the crown prince."

Zuko stiffened. Did word already spread regarding the monk's Avatar status? "I didn't know you were so concerned for me, Admiral."

"Oh of course I would be," Azi replied. "And surely this boy must be of interest for you to continue pursuing him. We are looking at rebellious activity after all, and it would not bode well for our nation if the children of the conquered also partake in such efforts."

"Don't stress yourself. He is my problem to deal with," Zuko insisted. "I will not underestimate him."

"As you shouldn't. The Avatar can put up a mad fight."

The defensive flare in Zuko's eyes did not falter.

"I am not your rival, Prince Zuko," Azimaz said, taking a sip of his tea, "And I am not like certain commanders. It's a shame how carelessly Zhao is dealing with this sensitive issue. And the disrespect, by Agni." Looking at the hot-blooded teen, "You are our future leader. I have utmost respect for you, and I have great faith in General Iroh's judgment."

"We're not interested in your sap talk," came the prince's outburst as he eyed the man, "Clearly you're not ass-kissing for no reason—"

"Prince Zuko," Iroh frowned, "You must show your respect. Is this the way to speak to esteemed officers?"

"The boy is only stressed. I take no offense," Azimaz said simply, turning back to Zuko, "Whatever it is that I want, I assure you that I will not get in your way, sir."

The prince raised his eyebrows, "Oh really?"

"As a matter of fact, I intend to cooperate with you. We need to look out for each other. At least for the sake of the nation. Don't you think?"

Ignoring his uncle's cautious look, "What exactly do you want, Admiral?"

"Well for starters, we're both officially looking for the same group of rebels. I think that part is obvious. But what's not so obvious is that we are after different people."

"What do you mean?"

"The Avatar is yours, Prince Zuko," Azimaz told him, "But I do think those Water Tribe peasants are fair game for me."

It was hard for the prince and the general to believe the man, but Azimaz held a look that meant he was serious. "You want those peasants?" Zuko asked, incredulous. "Don't you want the Avatar?"

"I believe that's your target."

"I didn't think military personnel would think twice about such an ambitious target when it's practically tradition at this point to hunt the Avatar," Zuko huffed. "You really expect me to believe you don't want the Avatar? All the glory that you'll get. The increased promotions and whatnot."

"I don't have a habit of playing games I don't win, Prince Zuko. And as you said, right now, the Avatar is an ambitious target. There is no need for me to join the competition. Also, I don't wish to posit myself as a rival to the heir to the throne. I have long-term interests I have to protect. It's pure selfishness, I assure you." Folding his arms, "And besides, my mission is to obliterate the Water Tribe race. I believe that's just as valuable of a mission if not equal to yours."

"Obliterate the Water Tribe?" Iroh asked. "What do you mean?"

"I'm sure you've heard of the events of our last Southern Raid. Our leader, Yon Rha, was blinded, stripped, maimed, and later overthrown in a violent skirmish. All of this happened in public. The last waterbender of the Southern tribe went untouched. Those savages are at present untouchable for many frustrating reasons, climate being one of them." He did not, however, mention a jot about the "magical" tapestry that safeguarded the community to this very moment, nor did he mention anything of the moonstone that blinded Yon Rha. "And you may find this unbelievable, but the tribesboy that's with the Avatar…he's responsible for Yon Rha's demise."

"He appeared to be younger than Zuko," Iroh frowned. "This incident happened a few years ago. That tribesboy couldn't have been but a child."

"He was the one who placed Yon Rha in a vulnerable position, and his efforts allowed the rest of the savages to attack our team," Azimaz said, remembering though not explaining the young tribesboy's ferocity in throwing the moonstone at the Southern Raiders' leader and pinning the captain into the snow as the tribesmen proceeded to attack him.

"It was indeed a grave loss for the Fire Nation," Iroh nodded. Zuko, too, had grown quiet in spite of lingering suspicion.

"Ever since, I've made it my life's mission to destroy the Water Tribe. I have highly nationalistic reasons for why I seek the downfall of the savage race. The defeat of the Southern Raiders incinerated our morale at the time, but we were reborn from those ashes." With a growl, "A bunch of savages stripping the dignity and honor of Fire Nation soldiers. And the infuriating part of this ordeal is that they have climate on their side. The South was accessible at least before, but the North has yet to see the impact of war on their ice and snow fortresses. Treacherous."

"How is capturing these peasants going to be of any help?" Zuko demanded.

"Having access to those peasants is highly necessary if I want to do more."

"They are the children of the South's official chieftain, Hakoda. He used to be the local chief of Amaguk, the Southern capital." Narrowing his eyes, "There is much that can be done once I have his children in my grasp. Hakoda may be strong-willed, but his family is his greatest weakness. I will do whatever it takes for him to personally turn his wife over to me."

"So you're after his wife?" Iroh held back a look of disgust.

"I have no reason to lust after a savage, sir, don't mistake me. She is the last waterbender of the Southern Tribe. Once I relieve her from the burdens of this world, it will be easier for the Fire Nation to take the South under its wing."

"Well it seems you haven't calculated correctly. The girl is the waterbender you're looking for, not the mom."

"That peasant is a waterbender?" Azi asked, surprised.

"She froze my soldiers, and we saw that with our own eyes," Zuko said. "Either she's the waterbender you're looking for or she's also a waterbender like her mom. But either way, you're going to have to take that girl into your custody. I mean, if that's what you're really rooting for."

"You have no idea," Azimaz hissed. "I want to see Hakoda on his knees, begging for mercy as I slaughter his family, strip him of his dignity, light him afire and watch him burn and rot."

The admiral's tone would have been convincing enough, but Zuko still clung to suspicion. Who wouldn't aspire to capture the Avatar? "So…you won't get in my way?"

"I have no reason to. But just know that I am highly interested in your target group if at least for the sake of taking those savages into custody. I am hoping that you will turn them over to me; in return, I will be sure to turn the Avatar over to you if my men reach them first."

Zuko still had his eyebrows raised.

"I respect your mission, Prince Zuko, and I am hoping you will respect mine."

"Respect. Hmph. What respect do you possibly have for me?" Standing up in his seat, tossing his uncle's arm away from his, "You think I'm a disgrace to the Fire Nation just like everyone else."

"I am not sure why you are taking Zhao's sentiments to heart, Prince Zuko," Azi said calmly. "The Fire Lord is the Fire Lord, but he is also a father. He is your father." Also standing up, "I understand that what he thinks of as discipline is…not necessarily desirable. But he would never think of you as a disgrace. You are his blood. The heir to the throne. Deep down, you are his pride."

You are his pride. "You want something, dammit," Zuko slammed his fist against the table, nearly lighting it afire. Iroh managed to hold the prince back.

"Just tell me what you want!" Zuko yelled. "Don't pretend like you give a rat's ass about me!"

Sighing, "Zhao does not know of fathers. He never knew his own to know what fathers are like. But I am of the belief that the Fire Lord is waiting for the day he will welcome you with honor. Please don't waste your time comparing me to Zhao; I am your ally, Prince Zuko, whether you chose to believe it or not."

The prince kept glaring at the admiral, but Azimaz simply waved off the prince's anger.

"You must forgive my nephew, Admiral Azi," Iroh said. "He is a wounded man."

"I am aware, sir, don't worry." And he bowed goodbye to them both, turning back to Zuko for a brief moment, "I look forward to cooperating with you about this. Best wishes to you, Prince Zuko. We will meet again."

And with that, the man bid the Fire Lord's brother and son farewell, making his way out of the Fire prince's bunker and traversing down the corridor. He shook his head in amusement, Fools.

"It seemed you really had the Prince's attention back there, sir."

Azimaz leered, turning to the crewman nearest him, "That prince thinks himself to be a man, but he's still a boy craving Daddy's love and affection. Unfit to capture the Avatar."

"But it is beyond me why you would be so quick to write off that airbender. He has to be the Avatar! Prince Zuko's crew members said he was glowing and—"

"I wouldn't bet my cards on Zuko's pathetic crew. And whatever glow they've seen hadn't blinded them, I can tell you that." Frowning, "Maybe in theory, and maybe a couple of decades ago, there could have been a greater chance of an airbender being the Avatar… but what about that tribeswoman? She has to be something. If that little boy is the Avatar, then who is she?"

It made no logical sense. It was impossible for an airbender to have survived the genocide. But even if this one kid did, he was still a kid. The timing made no sense: even if it was possible for the Avatar to survive a hundred years for the sake of the world, where exactly was this Avatar? Did the boy even know about the war, or was he in some sort of a one-hundred-year coma? Because he suppisedly used no other form of bending until that "glow" of his kicked in and made him manipulate water. Was he just sitting idle for one hundred years with no training in the other arts even secretly?

"The airbending Avatar died off a long time ago," Azi insisted. The burden had now shifted to the Water Tribe, and they, too, he believed, were going to have to pay like the Air Nation. Azimaz didn't know who this kid was; this kid could be the descendant of an airbender who survived. He might as well be the descendant of the very airbending Avatar people claim he is. He could be masquerading as an Avatar to save the real one. But to say he was the Avatar himself was a stretch.

"If he really is an airbender, I'm not saying he's unimportant. If he's the only other airbender in the world who exists, or if he has access to whichever group had miraculously survived, the current avatar needs an airbending teacher. And he clearly has the resources for that— if he hasn't already taught her, that is. But I am convinced that she's the Avatar. This is her era. And this boy could very well be an ally."

Because all he could think about was the glow emitted by her tapestry and that moonstone that defied all the laws of physics.

"I saw her tapestry glow with my own eyes. That savage is not nothing. Far from it, actually. And she is undeniably linked to the stone." Huffing, "Those savages are hiding her meticulously and parading the streets saying she's a patron goddess to save her ass."

"But she very well could be another spirit. Maybe even their Moon Spirit," the crewman pointed out. "Think about it, sir. We know only of her powerful glow, but we haven't seen her bend other elements. Much less any element. But Prince Zuko's crew members are witnesses to the fact that the boy was bending air and later water—"

"It is very possible that their testimony is rigged."

"Why would it be rigged?"

"Because Zuko is either a desperate fool to believe in illogical spirit nonsense or a crafty son of a bastard. He could very well be trying to stir up a story. Establish an ethnic outlier as the Avatar so he can go back and regain his honor and throne with his 'successful capture.' That boy is a failure, and he knows it. Sooner or later, his title will be stripped away from him. This is his way back in."

"That would be treason."

"If his father could do it, why can't he?"

"What are you saying, sir?" the crewman widened his eyes.

"Fire Lord Azulon cherished his firstborn and grieved for Prince Lu Ten's loss, but he decided to grant the throne to his second son as a 'burning dying wish'? Everyone knows something's up, but no one dares to speak out."

Brushing away a bead of sweat, "Sir, that would've happened either way—"

"Merely a day after Lu Ten's demise?"

"We probably shouldn't be venturing into this territory, sir," the crewman gulped.

Azimaz sighed, shaking his head, "Whatever. All I know is that whether Zuko really believes that boy is the Avatar or is trying to establish him as the Avatar is ultimately insignificant. We are the ones hunting for the real Avatar, and nothing can change my mind."

"But why get involved with the prince if this can just be our own separate effort, sir? It's difficult to get past his suspicion over you admitting you don't care to capture the Avatar. The Fire Nation's most prized target."

"But he still has resources," Azi pointed out. "Why waste all of our hard-earned supplies when we can join hands with the repository of all resources? We can conserve our efforts for larger future attacks on the Poles instead."

And besides, the prince had the Dragon of the West on his side.

"Sure, Iroh would have lived up to his name if he spent at least half of the attention he gives to tea for capturing the Avatar. And yes, he is an utter failure considering how easily he fell prey to emotion during the Siege of Ba Sing Se. But the man's military prowess had always been commendable, and I still trust his discernment. I need him on my side." Clenching his fist, "Agni knows Zhao intends to make use of that man first. I am not letting that happen."

"Do you really think General Iroh would join Zhao on a ridiculous fishing expedition, sir?"

"As silly as the idea sounds, Zhao has been in service longer than I have. It would be no surprise if Iroh humors him." Glaring at the torch nearest him, at the meager glow that was emitted from the small fire — no match compared to the heat and power of the glow that destroyed the Southern Raiders. A nation of water harnessing such power, such heat and light? Such a radiance of glory?

Impossible.

"The Water Tribe will fall. The true Avatar will be mine. The fame and the glory, the look on Zhao's face as he succumbs to his defeat little by little… but all of that cannot happen unless I have those peasants in my grip. They are the only ones who can wield the stone, and that stone is inextricable from that savage. We need to find them. We need to subdue the Avatar."

And of course, the plan of putting Southern Chief Hakoda through hell wasn't a total untruth.

"Do you really think the prince will be on your side, sir?"

"Oh, of course," Azimaz eyed the crewman, "Once you pull all the right levers, you'll see everything falling into place. Just give Daddy's Boy a little boost, and he'll toil away for you like a bitch."

Under the cloak of the night, Princess Yue snuck her way into the Spirit Oasis. She shed her overbearing parka and cloak, the light of the moon rippling against the waves of her unkempt milky hair. She summoned a soft gust of wind that closed the door for her, swiftly taking a moment to lock the door from the inside. She then bowed in greeting to the two circling black and white koi fish in the pond, uttering a soft chant to Tui and La before sitting cross-legged by the bank.

The look in her eyes was worn with the day's forced performance of grace in front of Minister Hanai, the father of one Hahn who was scheduled to meet her in the coming weeks. It was obviously a marital alliance in the works; her sixteenth birthday was only a few months away, and her mother repeatedly started conversations with her regarding marriage and child-rearing despite Shaman Kirqut's recommendations to the contrary. It was especially frustrating given the fact that four years ago today, the princess had learned of her identity as the Avatar. All it took was a night of eavesdropping on her parents' conversations with Shaman Kirqut.

No, don't tell Yue. No, Yue can't know of her burdens. No, Yue must marry, must bear children. No, Yue could be killed. Yue, the heir to the Northern throne. Yue, the crown jewel of Arnook and Ahnah's love. Yue, the unparalleled blessing from the Moon Goddess above.

And yet, following the realization of her identity was a series of her attempts at learning more about what an Avatar was, exactly, and what duties the Avatar was supposed to fulfill. And her efforts had been difficult. She was but a guarded, sheltered princess in a war-torn world who was unable to speak of her blistering truth. She was living behind impenetrable icy walls and was taught to attain mastery over her waterbending only due to the intervention of the rare open-mindedness of a shaman. She was to nevertheless be overseen by Pakku and the overbearing maids he had personally recommended so they would accompany the princess on an occasional basis and teach her the absolute glories of housewifery. She was bereft of the opportunity to be a normal person, seeking slices of freedom and fun with her servant friend even in whom she couldn't confide regarding her deepest secret. She was unable to even ask for authentic books and scrolls given the censored environment her parents had fostered around her. All she had for guidance were the few scrolls that Chuska would smuggle in for her from the local library igloo: historical documents on various Avatars' histories— updated only up to the life of Avatar Kyoshi; an old series of books on the origins of the Hundred-Year War; a thick collection of manuscripts describing Air Nomad culture; most importantly, a treatise on meditation — the fundamental step to airbending— that was written by an Air Monk over three hundred years ago. Save for what she was able to gather from these scrolls, she knew nothing, no one, no way of learning airbending— the only other element she was able to exhibit thus far even if in secret. Even with regard to Avatar tradition that dictated earthbending to be her next training venture.

Whatever.

It was all she could do; sit and introspect. Breathe, that's mostly what the scrolls would say. There was no way for her to know if she was meditating correctly, if that was what her "introspection sessions" could even be called. The chances of finding an airbending teacher were most likely nonexistent at this point. But this was all she had access to, all she could do other than meager blasts of air or little gusts beneath her feet that made her float in the privacy of the oasis. The silence was suffocating, her but if she spoke out, she knew she wouldn't be able to have even this.

She sighed impatiently, flailing amid the burdens of self-study. Her eyes fell to a close. She slipped easily into her trance, her cries for guidance always silent. And in the throes of introspection, in the struggle for contacting at least one of the numerous previous Avatars that were hiding deep within her somewhere, she welcomed the same figure she often saw in her trances: a twelve-year-old tattooed monk on an air scooter, laughing and riding amid the halls of a temple filled with saffron-robed monks. It always rattled her; the thought that this boy, likely her predecessor at the most, was too young to have suffered the flames of genocide. That he and his people were undeserving of hate. And yet, the boy was always cheerful in her visions. He would grin at her, chirping at her distressed form in reassurance with a voice that was clearly foreign yet highly familiar. An uncanny resemblance to someone she felt she always knew somehow. A feeling so strongly binding her to the suspicion that she and this boy were not different. Rather, they were one and the same.

"The monks always say you need to be patient. Storm clouds gather, but they will definitely pass."