Underneath the deck, down in belly of the ship, the metal is warm, as if it holds the same heat of the firebender that threw me across the ship. The old man next to me, who Zuko called Uncle, has not said much. He holds his hands deep within his robes, and reminds me, vaguely, of one of the monks from the Eastern Temple. I do not speak, instead taking in the surroundings, the rust that gathers in certain corners, that pipes that twist and turn and reach toward something deep within the ship.
My neck stings, and I try my best not to touch it, like I want to. As if sensing my apprehension for my burn, Uncle asks, "Your neck, dear, how is it?" Uncle asks. He looks over at me, taking me in, my clothes and my appearance.
"Stings," I mutter, not quite wanting to reply. I tap part of it, knowing some first aid for traveling. "Doesn't seem to have blistered yet."
"No, I don't think the contact was that long or that hot. When we arrive at your room, I have some burn ointment that I can give you, just to help with the healing process. I am Iroh."
"Zia," I say. There are a lot of questions bouncing around in my head, and I want to choke them out. Zuko had said I was supposed to be dead. That we all were supposed to be dead. I don't know if he was referring to me in general, Air Nomads, or everyone.
"Well, Zia, welcome to your room." Iroh waves his hand forward at a door he just opened. He acts like this is a flourishing place, as if I am being held to the greatest accommodations, but part of me thinks he does this for everything. My cell is a square room, with only a small port glass, a rectangle table placed in the middle, and a mat on the floor. On the red walls are a few Fire Nation banners hanging down. Otherwise, the room is rather dull. There is a bucket in the corner for me to relieve myself. The severity of the situation falls onto my shoulders, and I try to walk straight.
I walk into the room and he follows me in. "Let me treat your burn before it gets too severe. Some cool water should help with that a bit. I'll also work on making some jasmine tea, if you would like some." I nod again, watching the walls for anything out of the ordinary. But there isn't, just the warm metal of the ship and the sway of it beginning to move. It is hard for me to focus, and I watch the sway of the banners as the ship moves with the waves. I feel like crying out.
Iroh walks out of the room, leaving me alone, and when I start toward the door, he comes back, smiling. In his hands is a bowl of cold water, not freezing. He has a teapot, some cups, and a burner. The teapot is red, like the banners hanging from the wall and the cups that he brought in with him. The color of the Fire Nation has always been red, I know, but now it feels like everything in the world is red.
He starts on the tea first, placing everything in a ritual like manner. I watch, always one to be absorbed in the routine of things, the act of familiar motions. "I think tea should come first, but medical knowledge speaks louder." He gestures toward a position next to him, and he dips a cloth in the bowl of water.
I sit, accepting this man's kindness. "This may sting a bit," he says. I watch as he dips a cloth in the bowl with water and starts applying it to my neck. I admit it stings a little, but I hold in the groan that almost comes out. "I'm sorry about what my nephew did to you. I believe your situation may be misunderstood, to a degree."
"Why did he do it?" My throat is dry and it's hard for me to say anything. I'm afraid that if I ask the burning question inside me that I will cry out, and the lump in my throat signifies this. From his robes, Iroh brings out a small jar with a whitish ointment. It smells vaguely like aloe vera.
"You see, right before you came, the Avatar was captured. He did this stunt and left. Prince Zuko has been searching for him for quite a while, and he's pretty frustrated normally. Prince Zuko is like a pot left on too long, and he boils over quickly. We should not wrap the burn up, especially since it isn't too severe. We'll just keep an eye on it."
"Why is Zuko looking for the Avatar?"
"It is quite a long story, but Zuko has faith that the Avatar will return him to where he once was."
"I admit, I seem to have trouble recalling who the last Avatar was. I was under the impression that, after Avatar Roku, we were waiting for signs from the Air Nomads. Who would be the next one."
The old man nods, as if understanding, and asks, "What do you remember being the last major thing in the world?" I think, hard, trying to get a hold of global information. Iroh watches my face and nods again, asking, "The last Fire Lord that you know of, maybe?"
"Ozin? No, Sozin. I don't pay much attention to politics, but I'm sure it was Sozin. I don't really remember why I was out in the cold, or buried in the snow. There are some things missing that shouldn't be."
His face falls, as if things are falling into place for him, but I'm still outside, trying to understand something that I won't ever grasp.
"You're an airbender, correct?"
"Yes. I'm originally from the Eastern Air Temple. But I was visiting the Southern Air Temple before I came here. Is something wrong?"
"I'm sorry, Zia. I'm truly sorry. But there is no longer a Southern Air Temple or an Eastern Air Temple. All the known airbenders are dead, except for you and the Avatar," Iroh states, solemnly. He makes a move to put some more ointment on my neck, but I jump back in my own haste, surprised.
"How is that possible?" I try to yell, but my voice cracks and the teapot begins to wail, whistling greatly in my mind and shocking me, but I can't grasp onto anything solid, except for dead dead dead dead.
Uncle Iroh walks over to the pot, extinguishes the flames, and begins to pour the tea into cups, ignoring my outburst for the short time it takes him to serve the tea. He hands me one of the red cups and sits on the mat, waiting for me to sit down. Understanding that it will take me much longer to sit, Iroh nods.
Iroh takes a long sip before answering. "I doubt you want me to go into all of it; the details are too gruesome even for me. But, I'm afraid, Fire Lord Sozin saw it fit to rid the world of all the Air Nomads, especially the Avatar. I do not know how you survived for so long without knowing, but I am sorry."
"I'm only twenty," I state, though I don't know why I tell him. Iroh nods. "I woke up yesterday in an iceberg, cold and I have no idea where I am or how I got here and you're telling me that, within those few days, everyone I know is dead?"
"Your body must have been preserved in the ice for a hundred years. That's the only thing that makes sense."
"A hundred years?!"
"That was the last time anyone really saw an Air Nomad."
"Everybody's dead," I whisper, looking for anything to clench, to help make this feel more like reality. "Except for me and the Avatar?"
"Yes, you are," Iroh says and takes another sip of tea. Slowly, I sit down and join him again, sipping my tea in silence. It fills me with warmth, it fills the dread and loneliness in my soul. "You are alone now."
"Who is the Avatar?" I ask, unsure, unknowing, of who could be an airbender, who I would have to teach. I look down at my hands, knowing without truly knowing, that I can only teach the movements, the spirituality, as it seems that airbending is no longer with me. "It should be a member of the Water Tribe next, or did Fire Lord Sozin kill them too? Good luck finding them in all that Earth Kingdom."
"I believe he is of the Air Nomads. I do not know how he survived, but his name is Aang. A little boy. Not yet thirteen, if I would guess correctly."
My hand slams down on the floor, because the world starts to spin, round and round and dizzying. I am going to pass out. From a distance, Iroh is calling my name, and all I can remember is the storm, of a little boy, orange against the backdrop of the dark sky. Of the thunder loud as we flit through the lightning clouds. As I chase him down in my glider, more foolish than him on his bison. And I remember him falling, and me diving down after him, and the blue glow and -
"Zia, are you okay?"
"I think I would rather be left alone now, Iroh," I say, voice loud to my own ears, but calm, somewhere. Somewhere far away.
As the door locks behind him, all I can think is how little he is, how young, and how much of a burden has just been placed on his shoulders. Knees pulled up, head resting on them, I think about how I was not even supposed to be at the Southern Air Temple. Just a stop over. Some other monks were traveling, and I had joined, wanting to see the statues of the former Avatars, the ring-tailed lemurs, the youngest nomad to ever earn their tattoos in centuries.
The Avatar.