Unalaq remembers the first time he felt something close to divinity.
He was little more than a pup, then; a few months shy of his presenting, trailing behind his mother and half-brother as they strolled through the marketplace.
Every year Mother had the insurmountable task of throwing a party on the eve of the Winter Solstice. And while the servants had no qualms with helping, and more so, fulfilling her every command to the letter, in recent years it had become too much of a daunting task to do alone with just the help. Many of Father's former military comrades had retired in the last four to five years, meaning that they, and their families and friends, were to be esteemed guests at the Clan Kavamanti estate.
This meant more eyes on the family, and a lot more scrutiny on their status within their social circle. Mother, being the ever-vigilant wife and matriarch, had to constantly appease others. Particularly the others within their class. Clan Kavamanti may have a longstanding membership as one of the High Clans of the North, but due to Uncle Aysen's falling out with Clan Atjak, not even his title of "One Year Wonder" was enough to keep them in the good graces of the nobility.
Leaving Unalaq's father, the current Kavamanti patriarch, to spend a lifetime of "rectifying" that mistake. Its why Mother would ultimately work herself to the bone playing the game and appeasing those would sooner shake her hand or spit at her depending on the turn of the tides.
They lingered in the market for quite some time. Stopping by several more stalls to glance at the collections of jewelry for sale; looking for something befitting of a chieftain's wife. A glass bracelet strung together with silver threads caught their eye; it was beautiful, it shone in the sun, and at an astonishingly affordable price!
Unfortunately, glass jewelry was an outdated trend. To give Sayyna Vinivi a gift from last season would be sacrilegious.
Unalaq continues to look; knowing how much was riding on this gift. Until he turned the corner and suddenly, a peculiar sensation settled over him—
An inexplicable expectation that the ordinary was about to transfigure into the extraordinary.
There, in the midst of the bustling market, a figure emerged:
Avatar Kuruk, as if painted by the divine hands of a master artist. His presence exuded an ethereal serenity, his ocean blue gaze a wellspring of compassion that seemed to touch the depths of every soul around.
Kuruk rode atop an arctic horse, its humble hooves clopping softly against the frosted cobblestones, creating a gentle rhythm that echoed through the narrow streets. The cityfolk, initially oblivious to the celestial presence in their midst, gradually turned their attention toward the god before them.
He radiated warmth. The sunlight kissed his dark brown hair, creating a halo that rippled with an otherworldly glow. The furs of his animal skins billowed in the breeze, as if stirred by the breath of unseen spirits. Children, with innocence in their eyes, ran to the edges of the crowd, their faces aglow with an inexplicable recognition of the extraordinary nature of this moment. The elderly bowed their heads in reverence, while the marketplace merchants set aside their wares, their mundane concerns momentarily forgotten.
As Kuruk passed, the air shimmered with an ineffable energy, and a sense of peace enveloped the square like a gentle embrace. The horse, a creature of burden meant to pull plows and suffer, bore its celestial rider with a quiet dignity, as if aware of the purpose it served on this ordinary morning.
And then, Kuruk's eyes met Unalaq's.
It was for an instant, as brief as a blink. But in that fleeting connection, was a profound understanding that transcended words.
.
.
.
Avatar Kuruk is dead.
Within the walls of the Spirit Oasis, where shadows whispered their secrets and the air hums with the weight of centuries past, a mournful silence settles over the realm. The great and effervescent Avatar Kuruk, known to all by a litany of monikers—The Spiritsbane, The Bonebreaker, The Greatest Pai Sho Player to Ever Live, just to name a few—breathed his last breath beneath the cloudless skies of Agna Qel'a.
Kuruk, with his white polar bear dog headdress and ocean blue eyes, had been a pillar of stability. Not just for the world, but for the Northern Water Tribe. Even with his libertine ways being a constant source of fervor among the populace, and ire for the Elders. No, Kuruk, regardless of how he was viewed, was still praised and celebrated for what his existence brought to the tribe.
Now he lies on a funeral pyre. His achievements and exploits reduced to memory, his future now no more than a collection of what ifs and could've beens.
The news of his death spread like wildfire, engulfing the world in sorrow. When word was first given, by the sobbing scream that wretched itself from his mother's throat one early morning, the bells tolled. A melancholic requiem that didn't stop until every man, woman, and child in the capital learned of their Avatar's death.
The Council of Elders and the Holy Covenant wasted no time in making the necessary preparations for his funeral, the first of its kind in over a thousand years. Phone calls were made within hours, travel plans scheduled and secured within days; the entirety of the Winter Palace had become a whirlwind of activity that hadn't been seen since the Fire Nation stormed their shores.
Unalaq, dressed in ceremonial mourning robes, stands before Tui and La, the Moon and Ocean Spirits. Their mortal forms, a pair of black and white koi fish, swim ceaselessly in their sacred pond. Pushing and pulling against each other as they have done for all eternity. Their children standing watch from their pedestals along the ice walls surrounding the oasis. Casting judgement from their cold, blank eyes.
Feet away, lies Avatar Kuruk. On a beautifully crafted wooden pyre that had been built overnight by master craftsmen, blessed with sprinklings of water from Tui and La's sacred pond. Now adorned with a sea of flowers and tokens of remembrance, given by the citizens of the North as the procession made its way through the streets. Their last goodbyes before the gates of the Spirit Oasis closed for his private ceremony.
And at his side, are the other Avatars.
Together, their combined presence alone would have anyone on their knees in complete submission, regardless of status or strength if they wanted to.
Instead, the air is thick with a sense of both loss and reverence, as the Avatars kneel in meditative positions. Quietly bidding farewell to another of their kind.
"Ladies and gentlemen, honored guests, we gather here today not only as individuals but as witnesses to the passing of a being whose presence transcended the boundaries of the mortal realm," Unalaq says calmly, voice strong and clear over the silence.
"Today, we mourn the departure of Avatar Kuruk, a being born to carry the weight of the elements, the destinies of nations, and the burdens of our everchanging world on the quest to bring it to balance." Beneath his ceremonial mask, Unalaq's lips press into a thin line.
His gods are cruel, he knows this well. Ever since he was a child, hearing from his father's own drunken lips that he wished he had been strong enough to run away with Tonraq's whore mother when he had the chance. Wished that an accident would befall Unalaq so he wouldn't have to stare into the eyes of the rotten fruit that bore from his loveless marriage. Unalaq spent many nights praying to Tui and La, to their children, for a miracle. Anything to be rid of that man.
But the gods never answered, forcing him to carry the weight of their silence until his father's eventual death.
The night of Kuruk's death, Unalaq prayed again.
In the dark of the night, with a single lit candle for warmth and light, he prayed on the shores of Agna Qel'a. Before the Moon Above, and the Ocean Below, until the waters washed away his candle and soaked into the fur-skinned lining of his boots. Until the clouds drifted in, tired of his lamentations.
"In the cycle of life, the Avatar's spirit has journeyed through time, linking generations, and guiding us through the ebb and flow of history. Their mastery of the elements was not merely a display of power but a testament to the responsibility they bore—a responsibility to maintain harmony between the earthly and the spiritual."
Avatar Roku was the first to be revealed. The son of Fire Nation nobles, the man had want for nothing. Even when the beta swore himself away to his lord, he lived a pampered life within the walls of their royal palace. Even now, as he kneels on creaky old bones, head bowed in respect and reverence to Kuruk's corpse, the skin of his forehead remains smooth despite his old age. His phoenix hairpin too expensive, and too personal, for a royal guardsman to own.
"As we bid farewell to the physical form of our beloved Avatar, let us remember the legacy he leaves behind. Kuruk was the embodiment of hope, the living testament to the potential within each of us to overcome adversity, to bridge the gaps that divide, and to protect the delicate equilibrium that sustains our world and the next."
Avatar Yangchen, the second to be revealed, is the picture of stony resilience. Her face a strong iron mask, even while under the watchful scrutiny of the commoners. As far as they were concerned, the scandalous rumors that followed the air nomad, have come home to roost. Infesting the populace like a sickness. Not even Unalaq's own cardinals were immune: clucking like gossiping hens over every rumor, every theory, every minute assumption about the omega's relationship with Kuruk, his wife, Ummi, and his older brother, Kavik.
"Let us not mourn in sorrow alone, but celebrate the life that touched ours so profoundly. Kuruk's journey was not without sacrifice, yet through every trial, he bore the burdens with resilience and determination."
Yangchen's gray eyes are like steel. Fixed on the pronounced slopes and planes of Kuruk's face, the result of his constant bouts in the Spirit World that left him ghoulishly emaciated beneath the layers of clothing. Each clap of thunder was a fight being waged with unseen forces; each lightning strike was another year being taken off his life. If there is any justice left in this world, the air nomad will learn to fear every rainfall.
Her student, Aang, the fifth Avatar and another air nomad, by comparison hasn't made enough of a splash in the world to warrant any sort of opinion outside of marrying a woman from the Southern Water Tribe. Regardless, it would behoove him to not repeat his master's many mistakes.
"Today, as we lay his earthly vessel to rest, let us release him with gratitude, acknowledging that his spirit will forever dance in the currents of the elements."
Unalaq raises his hands, signaling the Avatars to finally stand for their roles. He takes a step forward and takes off his ceremonial mask, holding it to his chest for a heartbeat before placing it on the pyre.
Kyoshi, the fourth Avatar to be revealed, assembles a wall of stones to encase the pyre with the aid of a metal fan. As strange as it is for a bender, much less an Avatar of all people, to require the use of weapons, Unalaq doesn't spare them a glance.
Far too aware of the stories that plagued the Earth Avatar's every step. The Earth King is no more than a lowly jester when in her presence, the commonfolk of the Earth Kingdom have all forgotten their gods to worship at the feet of this titan. This warlord who commands a fourth of a continent, beds twenty concubines, and can flatten entire mountain ranges with a single wave of her hand. A monster, even among her peers. Her only saving grace is a sage by the name of Jianzhu, who acts as her special consul.
"May we, the inheritors of his legacy, carry forward the lessons he left upon us. Let the elements of earth, water, fire, and air remind us of the strength that lies in unity. In our hearts, let the spirit of the Avatar endure, guiding us towards a future where balance prevails and the world flourishes in harmony."
The sixth and last Avatar, Korra, guides the mist surrounding Kuruk to separate, leaving an open pocket of air free of any moisture.
With an opening made, Roku lights the pyre with a gently push of his fist. A small burst of fire from his knuckles is all it takes for the wood beneath Kuruk to burn.
Yangchen and Aang, take to their positions on either side of Kuruk to bend the air around the fire.
Together they keep it burning until the pyre is ablaze.
"As we commit his physical form to the embrace of the earth, let us release Kuruk's spirit to the cosmic dance of the cosmos, where he will join the eternal cycle and become one with the energies that bind us all."
Unalaq watches as each of the Avatars take a reverential step backwards to let nature take control. His eyes lingering on Korra the longest; a familiar sense of contempt bubbles at the pit of his stomach.
The Northern Water Tribe lost their Avatar, their Son—the first in over a thousand years, and yet the gods thought it to be a fitting punishment for the Savage South to keep theirs in the face of that loss.
The irony of the South's misbegotten Daughter being Tonraq's whelp—his niece—is not lost on Unalaq. Unsure if he wants to laugh or at Tui and La's absurdity. Or curse them for their cruelty.
The flames have eaten away at Kuruk's clothes; his polar bear dog headdress reduced to cinders as the fire begins to gorge on his blackened body. The smoke from the pyre finally reaching the night sky.
Beyond the walls of the oasis, music starts to play. The city is alive again, celebrating Kuruk's departure.
Unalaq raises his arms. "Farewell, Avatar Kuruk, and may your spirit soar eternally."