Prologue

The cry of the baby carried down the street, breaking the dead of night. Tall houses of snow held the wail softly, gently, the small whimpers spreading in echoes through the city. Nothing stirred. The moon shone overhead, light pooling in the icy streets. The distant ocean clapped against the tall cliffs, deep and sonorous in their heaving motions, like a dark heartbeat. Stars twinkled in a sky of glass.

Slipping quietly and briskly across the snow, a hooded figure slunk in the cast shadows, cradling a bundle of cloth. Its fur trimmings shivered in the lazy breeze. Ursa peered from beneath her hood: yellow eyes in the dark. Her lips were pale and pressed tightly.

Her baby cried again, cold and frightened. She tucked the edge of the cloth back. "Shh," she begged, eyes tearing. "Shh, mother's here..." She held her child closer, rocking him gently. "I'm here..."

Her baby boy quieted, small fist clutching the fabric of her cloak. Ursa smiled at her son. Spirits. I'm not strong enough.

But for his sake, she had to be.

She crept forward to a mansion of solid ice, hidden behind looming white walls and towering, ornate gates. Her baby was silent. Already peaceful before his new home.

She couldn't do this. If he started crying again, she couldn't do this. What if he went hungry? What if they just let him—she bit her lip and sucked in a tight breath, tears blooming. This was goodbye. This had to be done.

She knelt before gates, slowly heaving her son from her arms. The child only stirred and cooed. She tucked him in tightly, trying to insulate his heat. He would never find ease in the weather; he was made for the temperate skies of home. His blood longed for warmth.

But the north was his home now. No one would find him here. He would grow up, unharmed and unknown. She knew this family would care for him, love him. They would know what to do.

Ursa drew a folded letter from her cloak, shaking, barely gripping the thin parchment as she set it on his chest. She was brittle now. Her son stared at her, golden eyes wide and curious in the night.

She lay a hand over Zuko's belly, rubbing it gently to soothe him. She squeezed her eyes shut to halt the oncoming tears. "One day, you'll see me again..." she breathed. "I promise. One day, we'll meet, and you'll know me as your mother..."

She looked up at the impassive gates. "...These are good people," she explained. "They'll do more for your than I ever could. You'll be safe here." Tears fell in silver rivers down her cheeks. "Forgive me for not being there for you when you'll need me most... Forgive me for leaving you... But I won't leave you with nothing."

Ursa reached into her cloak and withdrew a crimson ribbon, dangling with a gold and silver pendant. "It's a betrothal necklace, for when you come of age." She smiled, imagining the thought of her handsome young boy asking a lady for her love. Trembling, she rested the pendant across his chest. It glowed in a white hue of moonlight, two encircled dragons weaving. For the briefest second they seemed alive, worming from the stone and clawing their way into the air.

"Burn brightly in this life, my son," she whispered. "I'll remember my promise."

She stood and stepped back, wiping away her tears. Don't be afraid. She rapped on the gates. Voices called out behind the walls, and she startled. Lights flashed on between the cracks in the windows and the house seemed suddenly alive.

Her baby stirred, swaddled in his blankets. Ursa raised her hood and slunk into the shadows.

When he looked for her next, she would be gone.

The night unraveled. Staff forced the gate open, rushing to the pile of blankets they saw lying in the snow. The child was swept into the arms of many and passed from one person to another, the rise and fall of the ocean, rocking him deeper into sleep.

Later that night, he lay hidden away in a dark room while the maids watched him. A worried couple spoke in whispers. The husband, tall and proud, debated with his chief of staff the letter they found and the pendant to go with it, while his wife spent the hours with the baby, rocking him gently in the corner, slowly falling in love with each passing moment.

But the life of the night didn't reach the calmly sleeping Zuko. He was seeing colours behind his eyelids and hearing the soft voice of his long-gone mother. A half-smile crept across his face, tugging his small features into something pure with hope. The boy was secure, and left with good intentions.

Only fate could mar him now.