Zuko sent another sheet of flame into the glowing oven and leaned back on the gondola, watching the sun. There was a comfortable warmth that came with its rays, and it gave him temporary respite from the heavy chill in the air.
All was quiet save for the sounds of the whirling propeller, the gusting wind, and the crackling coals from the engine. His war balloon was small and agile; he would easily be able to fly past the fleet. The moment dusk came, he would have to start closing the gap between himself and the airships. Then, as soon as it was dark, he would pass beneath them undetected.
His gaze settled on the large airships in the distance. Their flame insignias would be the first thing the tribesmen and women of the Southern Water Tribe saw before the onslaught. He knew Azula was in one of them, smiling at the thought of exacting her twisted version of justice. Zuko let his back slide down the side of the metal basin until he was sitting.
To most of the world, those flames meant one hundred years of oppression, fear, and death. That version of history was something his instructors never mentioned to him growing up. To them, oppression was leadership; genocide was righteous cleansing.
His scar ached distantly, and he raised a hand to rub it. Growing up, that was all he had known: unwavering national fealty, the draws of power, respect, pride, honor and prestige. Deep down, he'd never believed in it, never fully. It had always been a farce, though some facades ran so much deeper than others.
He let out a deep sigh, running his fingers through his raven hair before resting his forehead on his palm. His and his sister's purpose had always been to fit the mold that was designed for them centuries before they had ever been born. It was never about choice. It was about what was deemed necessary to keep the lineage alive, to keep the Fire Nation on top of the pecking order. Push and pull, yang and yin, Roku and Sozin. A cycle of violent delights and violent ends.
Zuko could never fit that image. Destiny posited he never should have. All those years he spent roaming the earth, doomed to scour the seas and four nations for a ghost, all that pain he endured... had led him here. But it went further back than that: to his mother, who whispered tales of freedom, of the endless grapple between good and evil and, later, to Uncle, who instilled unconditional love when there was none, who offered wisdom amid ignorance and had the patience to follow through.
The sun was low now, held up by the fine line between black sky and sea. Zuko's skin prickled. He managed the faintest smile. His uncle's breathing techniques were helpful. At least he'd be able to keep his inner fire burning long enough. It was only going to get colder.
With the Fire Nation miles behind him, his head finally felt clear. This was his choice. It had always been his choice.
Now that the temperature was dropping, he needed to conserve as much energy as he could. Tomorrow, he would find Aang and somehow convince him that he had changed. That was easier said than done. He exhaled a hot breath of fire into his cupped hands, rubbed them together. For now, he would rest.
He listened to the rhythmic huff-huffing of the propeller, the roaring wind, the hiss-crack of the glowing embers in the fire. Zuko was exhausted. He owed himself a few minutes of clarity and peace. Uncle's words rang in his head: A man needs his rest.
With his eyes shut, the sounds of the whirling propellor faded away.
*'*'*'*'
"Gran-Gran!" Katara cried, running to her grandmother who was the first to greet her.
Katara pulled Kanna into a tight hug, holding back her tears. Behind them, Appa let out a relieved grunt. They had been in the air for the past two and a half days. He was exhausted. But their work was far from over. This happy reunion couldn't last long.
"Katara…" Kanna pulled back and gave her a careful scan, frowning at the charred marks on her robes. "The invasion, the eclipse— your father spoke of your plan in his letters. What has happened, my dear granddaughter?"
"It was a trap," Katara replied urgently. "The Fire Lord and his army knew we were coming and mounted a counterattack. There is a fleet of Fire Nation soldiers coming to lay waste to our village as we speak. We have only hours to evacuate before they rain fire on us."
There were nervous murmurs amongst the villagers that had overheard her. Kanna's face was stony, deathly serious.
"Then we will leave." Her voice was level, but there was a fire in her eyes. "I will start warning the others. Do the same. We will take only what we need onto the ships with us."
Even in her elder years, her grandmother was a true Water Tribe warrior, through and through.
"Aang said we should wait out the barrage at the Southern Air Temple," Katara said, before addressing the rest of the village. "We'll be safe there."
"Yes," Kanna agreed. "We will be. The mountains will protect us. The soil is fertile and can sustain us. Fresh water is plentiful there. You must return to Avatar Aang and finish your journey with him. It is your path, my child." She brushed rebel strands of Katara's hair behind her ear and continued.
"The Fire Nation is powerful." Her eyes sparkled like glistening blue gems surrounded by the tanned wrinkles of her face. "But foolish. Ozai truly believes that the destruction of our home will extinguish our people. All he will do today is make us stronger."
"You're right, Gran Gran," Katara replied softly, squeezing her hand.
"Sokka and Hakoda. How are they?"
Katara felt a tight lump build in her throat. "Sokka's safe." She forced a smile. There was much to be done still, and so little time.
"Dad is with his men."
Soon, Katara was with the other women of her village, preparing for their journey across the sea. The only men here were still boys, with the oldest no more than the age of ten. Those sixteen and older were either fighting in the war, taken prisoner, or dead. Now, both young girls and older women alike shared the duties that were once reserved for their male counterparts.
In the curing tent, Katara helped an older woman, Shema, pack away food for the journey. There wasn't much to collect, but it would be enough. It was often difficult to keep the village's reserves even half full on such sparse land.
The south pole didn't have the fertile soil of the Earth Kingdom, and with long periods of both light and darkness, harsh blizzards, and freezing snow, farming was next to impossible. The only source of food they could rely on was the kind they found in the sea, save for the occasional otter penguin or tiger seal they hunted on land. Hunting parties had to come and go daily, and some trips were more lucrative than others. Sometimes entire seasons yielded meager results. Katara remembered times of hardship in her youth, before her mother's death, short but difficult periods of famine.
Katara's grandmother would sometimes reminisce about life decades ago, before the trade routes from the Earth Kingdom were completely severed by the Fire Nation. Back in a time when the Southern Water Tribe was not a fractured nation made up of small clusters of survivors huddling in tents. Katara managed a smile. Sokka would always drool when Kanna described the exotic Earth Kingdom meats that used to be typical imports, before complaining about having to eat sea prunes for dinner again.
She could understand where her brother's frustrations were coming from. Life seemed to be better back then. At least, better than it was now. But Katara could never envy the life her grandmother described in her stories. Despite living in a time of relative prosperity, Gran Gran had also witnessed the worst of the Fire Nation raids. She had memories of her friends and family being struck down or taken prisoner, never to be seen again. These stories were almost impossible for her to talk about.
Yes, life was hard in the Water Tribe now, but this life was the only one Katara knew. And as far as it concerned her, her people and tribe were enough. The only thing missing now were husbands, sons, grandsons, brothers, and nephews… The tribesmen lost to the war. She was eager to end it so she could finally see her father and brother in the same place again— not in battle, but safely at home.
At the seaside docks, Katara helped the others stow cargo on the ships. She used hand-made rope to tie seamen's knots, fastening crates and sacks below deck. This was one of a handful of tricks her father had taught her when she was little.
Her knots were not pretty, and some she even had to tie again, but her memory served her well enough to make them strong. Her father once told her that a good knot, like a good fighter, is one that performs best under pressure.
She frowned as a loop of rope unraveled between her fingers. It was moments like these that she wished her father were around to help her. She wondered where he was now, and if he was okay. The Fire Nation was notorious for its harsh treatment towards prisoners of war. She swiped her tears away before they could fall.
Dad is strong. He can take care of himself. You'll find him.
Her silent vow felt heavy in her heart. She tied another knot, perfect this time. Katara smiled. She would have to show him. He'd be proud.
*'*'*'*'
Only in his later years did Uncle become a spiritual, if not superstitious, man. Once, he had told Zuko that good deeds translated into spiritual energy that light spirits rewarded… or something. Zuko had stepped up to him, seething, and pointed to his scar: "Is this my reward, Uncle?" He winced at the thought.
The airships were far enough behind him to be out of sight. He had passed them successfully in the night. He was flying low among giants; huge glaciers that dwarfed his tiny vessel. With the south pole quickly approaching, he prepared to land.
He wondered if his uncle had been right. Were the spirits watching? Better yet, were they really rewarding people for their good deeds? Zuko almost laughed aloud at the ridiculous notion. He hoped not, for his own sake. His list of righteous and honorable acts was very short; starting with the time he saved a turtle-crab as a child and ending with him freeing Aang's bison. Everything between consisted of him terrorizing the world during his hunt for the Avatar. No, if his uncle's words were true, there were probably scores of bad karma lined up just for him.
"Oh spirits…" Zuko gripped the steel tiller, adjusting the airship's rudder as it began its far-too-rapid descent. "Let's hope not—"
His landing was far from graceful. The gondola slid uncontrollably after making hard contact with a large patch of ice, stopping only after it crashed into a tall snowbank climbing the side of one of the sheer walls of stone. Zuko flew forward from the impact, landing into a heap of freezing snow with a surprised shout. He scrambled to his feet, wildly shaking the snow off his hair and out of his clothing before drawing heat from the engine to warm himself. Apparently, the spirits were keen on carrying out their retribution today. Bad luck he could handle, but spiritual intervention…?
A plume of smoke left his nostrils as he let out an annoyed huff.
He had landed in the middle of a large rocky formation that sat in a rough semicircle. It consisted of sharp peaks that gradually stretched taller, as if they were reaching up to the heavens themselves. They shielded him from the more severe polar winds, a relief after such a jarring touchdown. Zuko decided to climb one of the shorter peaks so he could gaze out at the expansive tundra.
The south pole was the same as it had been six months ago: cold, icy, and barren. The opposite of what he was used to. At this time of year, the Fire Nation was sweltering, unbearably so, but Zuko found himself missing it amidst such a bitter cold. His hands worked to re-fasten his sword belt as his eyes adjusted to the bright glare coming from the freshly driven snow. He squinted, finally finding the familiar snow walls of the village, a few hundred meters west.
Unlike six months ago, Zuko was not hell-bent on kidnapping the Avatar. Convincing him of that would be difficult, especially when that meant encountering villagers who probably relished the thought of cutting him up and feeding him to the tiger seals. He needed to be careful. And smart.
Zuko leapt down from his rocky vantage point and studied the the ice his vessel had slid on. Where the loosely-packed snow had been swept aside, he noticed the dark likeness of frozen water. He frowned. The entire thing must have been a frozen pond. He had been lucky the ice didn't shatter completely during his landing. Silently, he opted to walk around it, finally reaching the other side where the rock formation opened up to the rest of the polar tundra.
He peered through his spyglass. The northern skies were clear now. Soon, the fleet would be within view.
By the sea, a harsh glare came from the rocky coastline. He scanned the waterline absently, pausing when he spotted a small Fire Nation skiff docked alone offshore. Apparently, he wasn't the only one who slipped away during the invasion.
The skiff was docked beside a large glacier and, from what he saw, it was the only vessel in the area. Zuko squinted through the spyglass as he drew his field of view up the side of the glacial mass, pausing when he noticed a dark figure crouched at the top.
Zuko sucked in a sharp breath. He should have stopped him long ago.
"Shit."
The assassin's position was betrayed by the morning light reflecting from his metallic arm. The prosthetic, which was permanently molded into a clawed grip, looked menacing even through the lens. From his tall vantage point, the combustion bender had a perfect view of the village. He would easily be able to pick off Aang with a targeted blast. Zuko lowered his spyglass and started toward the beach.
That is, unless he got to him first.
*'*'*'*'
"Katara!"
It was Shema, the woman from the curing tent. Katara tossed another sack of food onto the starboard, then hopped back down to solid earth. Shema was running over from the village, tan cheeks colored red from the exertion. Her eyes were wide.
"Shema, what's wrong?" Katara sent a sidelong glance north, not catching sight of any airships yet. The tribe was moments away from starting its journey to the Southern Air Temple.
"One of us spotted something landing near the Shelves…" Katara pictured the landmark and nodded her understanding. It was about a mile outside of the village walls. "They said it looked like a Fire Nation balloon."
A pit formed in Katara's stomach. Her fists balled at her sides.
Not now.
"A single balloon?" Her fingers were unconsciously fidgeting with the stopper on the waterskin strapped to her side.
"Yes, Katara. I came to find you as soon as I heard."
"Thank you, Shema. I'll take care of it."
A million thoughts were racing through Katara's head as she ran toward the outer wall. A single enemy balloon, landing almost a mile from the village. Was it idiotic or strategic? Perhaps a diversion to distract them while the airships started their onslaught. Katara's feet carried her through the deserted village.
Or could it be one of their own? Did the submarine escape fail? By some miracle, could it be Aang? Sokka? Toph? Katara shook her head. No. Whoever it was landed so they could not be seen. This was no friend.
As she stepped outside of the village's outermost boundary, she coated her hand with water. Her heart was pounding, and adrenaline surged through her veins. She was reaching the point in her element mastery where she feared very little, and every threat was an almost welcome challenge. If this was a Fire Nation spy, delivered to her on an icy platter, she was eager to unleash a torrent of retribution on them. On her home turf, too; surrounded by her element. She smiled.
The Shelves of Heem was a jagged rock formation in the shape of a crescent, cradling an inland pond. Its dark, basalt protrusions were salt-stained and precipitous, forming jagged peaks with weathered tops. Some people claimed that it made up the bottom of an ancient lake thousands of years ago, before the poles froze completely.
Resting at the center of the formation, the pond was covered in a thick layer of ice almost every day of the year. Children would often go sledding on the snowy banks that the howling winds gathered there. When they were young, Katara and Sokka frequently visited the spot together. She had a fond memory of the time she first bent snow onto Sokka's head after he pulled a silly prank on her. He had no choice but to dance around wildly to get it all off him, and she had fallen to the ground in a fit of giggles.
Katara's breath was visible in front of her as she let out a puff of air. Despite having happy memories of the ancient landmark, she still felt some uneasiness towards it. In the early mornings and late afternoons, the former of which it was now, the sun was completely blocked out by the Shelves' tall peaks. This plunged the frozen pond into a dark shadow. Katara felt her heart thump hard in her chest. She had a bad dream about this place, years ago.
In it, she went to the Shelves one morning, completely alone. It was dark inside the circular formation, and it was much colder than it was outside of it. The gathering winds howled as they picked up the snow so violently that it felt like she was in the middle of a blizzard. Unable to see from the whipping elements, she cupped her hands over her eyes to shield herself. Blindly, she stepped forward until she suddenly crashed through ice and fell into the pond. She tried desperately to orient herself, finally finding the direction of the sky and swimming towards it. Before she could surface, a foot of ice formed between her and freedom. She was trapped, pounding against the ice, and screaming in the pond's dark water. As she coughed and gasped, she only drew in more of the black, inky water. Her lungs strained and as darkness crept into her vision, she saw a girl that looked just like her staring down at her from the other side of the ice, smiling.
She willed the dark thoughts away. It had only been a dream. Besides, she was one of the most powerful waterbenders in the world. Drowning would be too ironic of a death for her. She chuckled under her breath, dissipating some of her silent concerns, but the uneasiness lingered.
Katara spotted the first set of footprints coming from the outer edge of the rocky formation. They were headed toward the northern shore and fresh still—not yet erased by the harsh winds. She came closer, walking into the familiar basalt cove where her gaze was drawn just beyond the frozen pond. Just as the scout had reported: a single Fire Nation war balloon.
It was stuck in a pile of snow after what seemed to be a rough landing. Whoever had been flying it didn't have much experience. They were lucky they didn't break through the surface of the pond, thin as it was this time of year. She could feel the invisible cracks, the ice shifting, the black water churning below. She shuddered.
Heat was still radiating from the balloon's engine. She took note of that as she stepped out of the rocky cove. Out north, the sun's glare off the snow was intense. Katara squinted hard as her eyes followed the direction of the tracks. She spotted her target, a lone figure wearing dark clothing ahead. They were slowly trudging through the foot-deep snow.
Katara got into a bending stance, dipping her hands down and willing the snow to part before her with a fluid movement of her arms. As she did, her eyes remained on the dark figure ahead of her, gazing intently at this unknown enemy. When the path was clear, she started her pursuit. Her otter seal skin boots barely made a sound on the soft snow beneath her as she closed in.
*'*'*'*'
Weeks before the invasion, Zuko had sent an assassin after Aang. The man was a nameless mute that grew up in a vagrant town in the Si Wong Desert. Jiang, a combustion bender, was the first of his kind. He could generate explosions with his mind. Shortly after mastering this rare ability, he began a bloody career of killing for coin. Other than that, little else was known about him. Except for the rumors, of course.
One stated that his loyalty was to the highest bidder. Apparently he had once found himself in the employment of two feuding noblemen, with each wanting the other dead. Although one had bought his services before the other, the latter's offered price far exceeded his rival. After he killed the first man, the second couldn't deliver the boon he promised. Jiang killed him too, taking whatever he could from his decimated home.
Zuko trudged forward in the thick snow, closer to the beach now, his expression stony. Basically, he had sent one of the most prolific and deadly assassins in the world after a kid. Now, that same assassin was here to finish the job.
Spirits, I should have stopped him weeks ago.
As if hearing his thoughts, the man's head abruptly turned in his direction. Zuko tensed as the assassin's shoulders retracted sharply and he took aim.
"Wait!"
He leapt out of the way, feeling the pressure shift around him. The air became stifling as the blast tore past him. To his surprise, the explosion made contact somewhere behind him. He whirled around in time to see a battered shield of ice melting to the frozen earth. In the middle of the fresh pool of water stood Katara.
Her hair was out of its normal plait, her clothing charred in places. She was in a wide bending stance, her shoulders heaving with every breath. Right now, she was the most dangerous woman in the world, and her narrowed eyes were locked directly on him.
"Zuko," she hissed out his name as if it were a curse, as if he had been the one who'd just attacked her. Her hands were already working on summoning a water whip from the ground.
Zuko found his words, quickly.
"Katara, wait! I'm not—"
Zuko's voice caught in his throat as a razor-sharp blade of water shot towards him. He leapt out of the way, blocking the brunt of her attack with a delayed burst of heat.
"Why can't you just leave us alone?!" she snarled.
Zuko could practically feel her hatred for him, crackling behind her blue irises like lightning. As he gathered himself, he felt a sharp pain shoot up his arm. Hot blood dripped onto the snow by his feet. She'd nicked him after all.
Before he could respond, he felt energy gathering by the glacier and leapt out of the way, unleashing a desperate ribbon of fire to protect himself from the brunt of the explosion. As the pulse of the blast sent him to the ground, he used the momentum of his recovery to hurl a ball of flame back. The assassin leaned effortlessly to the side as the flames hurled past by him, singeing the sleeve of his tunic.
For a moment, the three of them were at an impasse. Zuko's hands were up, his fingers splayed, ready to beckon more flames at any second against Jiang. At the same time, he kept an eye on the nearby Katara who was in her own stance, her eyes flicking back and forth between him and the assassin. As Katara's expression wavered between anger and confusion, Jiang looked at them both almost curiously, as if he were entertaining the idea of letting the two conventional benders fight each other instead.
Before any of them could summon their element, a loud warning call went off from the village. It boomed across the flat snowy tundra, echoing off the glaciers. Zuko heard Katara gasp and followed her gaze to the skies. The four-ship fleet was in sight now, charging ahead quickly, minutes away.