Book 4: Light and Darkness

by ButtonPusherExtraordinaire

Air's murder was a symptom. The Great War was over, but the Greater War endured. The Realms are imbalanced, and Air's loss is but a sign. Years after Sozin's Comet, The Avatar's most ancient enemy reminds The Avatar of his existence. Lies and truths are disordered as the roots are infected from the chaos, to which The Avatar was ignorant. Things must change. The cycle must end. AU!

8. War

Thank you for the reviews. I appreciate them.

Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender

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Kuei was dead—and Ba Sing Se with him.

The news blazed through the Earth Kingdom like Fire itself, and it was the words on everyone's lips, voices filling the air with terror and agony in the two weeks since it happened. The Avatar murdered millions of Children of Earth, among them the foremost king who sought retribution against Fire. The whispers were everywhere, and they were agreed—they were in harmony.

The Avatar was a Fire-sympathizer!

Two successive lives—Avatar Roku and Avatar Aang—did nothing to stop Fire as they should be stopped. Two Avatars let Fire rape Earth for a century, and when Fire no longer possessed their inherent potency, The Avatar raped Earth himself, doing what no Fire Lord did—struck a mortal blow to Earth in which there could be no recovery. Unlike when Fire conquered Ba Sing Se, Ba Sing Se still lived; now, Ba Sing Se was dead.

Maps of the Earth Kingdom would forever remember the scar of The Avatar's wrath, the void of the world's most populated city. There would be retribution! There would be vengeance! All roads led to Ba Sing Se, and families in the Earth Kingdom had loved ones, whether a brother or an unknown cousin, in Ba Sing Se. Families were broken forever. Fathers and mothers lost sons and daughters; husbands and wives lost each other; brothers lost brothers; sisters lost sisters; and children were made orphans. Entire branches—and sub-branches—on family trees were eradicated.

It was the biggest, most grotesque, and horrifying blight to ever happen to Earth.

Unlike the Great War, which was a long and arduous conflict, Earth was able to fight back and prevent Fire's supremacy for a century. But The Avatar struck with divine might for but a moment, and Ba Sing Se was dead almost instantly. It was brief but all-consuming, which was worse destructively. It was not a simmer that steadily grew over time like the Great War but a lightning strike, and the carnage was beyond fathoming.

Countless people traveled to what was once Ba Sing Se themselves, trying to see if there was truth to the vicious rumors that seized hold of terrified hearts, but what they saw exceeded any rumor. What they saw only intensified the whispers and furious discontent throughout the Earth Kingdom. Ba Sing Se, the once most-populated city, the most lively and vigorous, never resting and always living, was a mass graveyard; its great Walls were crumbled, all its towers and palaces destroyed, and its citizens flattened.

There was nothing left.

They sifted through the unimaginable rubble, finding a corpse—whether a man, woman, child, or animal, none were spared!—every other moment, many of which were frozen in the position of screaming, bodies crushed, limbs severed, heads decapitated, parts flung everywhere in traumatic chaos.

Few survivors endured The Avatar's wrath and told the tale, but those who survived, many of whom with life-lasting deformities once unknown, told the truth of what happened, divulging the experience of The Avatar's power. The world shook, and darkness descended over the city while terrible, bruising, killing rain—and hail—fell with blazing speed. Many tornadoes funneled to the earth, clouding the air with dust, soil, and smoke. Flames scorched across the roofs in Ba Sing Se in a sizzling line, blazing from The Avatar's fists, and buildings were on fire, flames spreading everywhere, providing visibility in the unholy darkness. Many suffocated and were ripped apart, de-limbed and decapitated; many died quickly while few died slowly, the only blessing; many pleaded to The Avatar, screaming up at his glowing form, supplicating for mercy and grace, but The Avatar was callous; many sobbed and shrieked; many tried to run and fell through the ruptures into the earth before they were crushed by the quakes, returning to the Earth of which they were born; many fathers and mothers threw themselves over their children, holding them fiercely in their arms and babbled that everything would be alright; many gazed upon the godly destruction and merely accepted their fates, calm and serene, memorizing their last moments living; and many huddled together under the toppled buildings, hoping and praying for a miracle.

Those outside of Ba Sing Se told a similar but different tale. They said that the sky was alive, swirling with power, coalescing storm clouds into an impenetrable wall of darkness that not even Agni—that damned Fire Spirit!—could pierce. They saw flames erupt into the heavens and a glowing figure—The Avatar—floated over the city, and they said lightning flashed around him; they said they felt the ground buckle and shake from where they stood far away, some even leagues away, from Ba Sing Se in one of the provinces. Some said that The Avatar's glowing arms rose in a slow arc, visible from the vast distance, and Ba Sing Se rose off the ground, floating in the sky, before The Avatar released his grip, and Ba Sing Se hurtled to the ground with terrifying speed; some said that The Avatar transformed into a living lightning bolt the length of Heaven and smashed into Ba Sing Se; some said that Devi herself tried to stop The Avatar but he slew her in his cruelty and loss of sense; and some said that Heaven itself turned away from The Avatar in horror.

However, there was one thing all the Children of Earth agreed on—they hated The Avatar more than Fire.

But Bumi knew better.

Based on the contradictory reports coming in from everywhere that each honestly tried to make sense out of all the chaos and horror, Aang wasn't alone when he went to Ba Sing Se. Toph was either with Aang or it was another Earthbender. And there were rumors that Princess Azula had been brought by Aang as a prisoner to give to Kuei. But that was all he knew, and the rest he could only imagine and input.

From the intelligence he received, Zaofu and Chyung were terrified and enraged, and riots broke out in their cities, protesting The Avatar's unjust cruelty, and he heard that some were outright calling The Avatar evil. Omashu was tense, and many of his citizens had evacuated to the country, terrified that The Avatar would visit Omashu and replicate his unstoppable attack. Bumi let them leave, and he would let them return if they wished. He understood their panic, having lived through the Great War and hearing the news of Air's slaughter.

He remembered the first days after Sozin's slaughter of Air, and those days were tense and explosive, shocked from the sheer, grave disbelief that everyone across Earth and Water felt in trying to comprehend Air's sudden, glaring absence and that Fire was powerful enough to eradicate one of the races in a single day, even if it was the maligned Air Nomads. But the tension after The Avatar's attack was different; it was more volatile and tangible, a direct threat rather than a response to news that happened to someone else. The news of Ba Sing Se's murder hit much, much closer to home for the Children of Earth than Air's murder.

Bumi had already received several petitions demanding he hunt down The Avatar and kill him in vengeance, citing his storied, legendary reputation as the Fucker of Fire, but such a thought was madness worse than Kuei's. Instead, he publicly condemned The Avatar's actions against Ba Sing Se to appease his citizens and those in Zaofu and Chyung who begged him to change his moniker to the Fucker of The Avatar, but inwardly, he wondered because none of it made sense. He knew Kuei, and he knew Aang—or he liked to think he knew Aang—and murdering Ba Sing Se was not something Aang would do. He refused to kill Fire Lord Ozai, but then he chooses to murder Kuei and Ba Sing Se with him? It didn't make sense. It didn't compute with what he knew about Aang.

But Aang was not the Aang he knew, to his utmost sorrow.

He had watched the transformation from a distance over the years after the Great War since Aang never spent time with him, clearly avoiding him, hating what he had become. Bumi didn't blame him because he hated what he had become, too. And he never tried to bother Aang, never pestering him to spend time with him when it was all he wanted. But even if he let Aang have the space he needed, he still paid attention; he still watched, and what he saw broke his heart but didn't surprise him. The boy awoken from a century's sleep slowly shifted into a resentful man who didn't understand what was going on, pressed to the edge of his limits, barely keeping it together.

Bumi sympathized, for he was once the same so long, long ago. When Sozin raped Air, it took him years to understand Sozin's motivations and find anything resembled contentment—if only because he realized he would never understand the madness and hatred that overtook Sozin.

He was extraordinarily hate-filled back then—and in many ways he still was—but he had an outlet in the Great War, and he took advantage of that massive outlet to his heart's content, fucking Fire as much as he possibly could, doing everything he could to end Sozin and his heirs.

But Aang was different; he didn't have an outlet like the Great War to unleash his sorrows and regrets, to drown in his hate-filled incomprehension. Aang had to play the political game—for politics was only a game and only ever would be a game—and act courteous and noble when his heart didn't want to. And Aang slowly became distant and aloof, barely interacting with anyone, and it was clear to see to Bumi that when he did interact, it was false and not genuine; it wasn't honest.

It made Bumi despise Sozin all the more for depriving Aang of his once joyful and innocent character, and it made him regret ever more his failure to kill both Sozin and Azulon.

Bumi's scarce conversations with Aang since the Great War were painful, for Bumi was not the boy Aang once knew and yearned for, and Aang quickly stopped being the boy Bumi remembered. Their conversations were stilted and awkward, and neither could be honest with one another.

A big part of him wanted to be honest and divulge his circumstances in the Great War, reveal how he became Omashu's king and targeted Sozin's line, nearly assassinating Azulon; he wanted to tell of his exploits and his fierce, obstinate will in refusing Fire's supremacy, the indomitable spirit that Fire could never extinguish; he wanted to confess of his crimes, not for forgiveness but freedom; he wanted to admit that he surrendered himself completely to his vices, finding pleasure and purpose in the abominable. But there was a bigger part of Bumi that knew Aang would be horrorstruck by the attacks he inflicted, the crimes he committed against Fire during the Great War. And he couldn't bear the thought of Aang looking at him like the monster he was, for, in Aang, existed the memory of the boy Bumi once was before the grief of Air's slaughter and the Great War, and Bumi couldn't tarnish that memory; he couldn't do that to himself or Aang—he was too selfish.

Did Ba Sing Se pay the price because he was too selfish? What if he had spoken honestly with Aang? What if he traveled to the Southern Air Temple, making the same journey he did over a century ago, and confronted Aang and was simply there for him so he wasn't alone? What if he sparred with Aang and let him release his anguish and boiling fury?

But it was pointless—because Aang already released all the wrath in existence against Ba Sing Se. But something told him that it was but a fraction of Aang's true wrath. Slumbering within Aang was something so much worse and catastrophic—he knew it, deep down.

What could have possibly enraged Aang to such a degree that he lost himself in the primordial Avatar State? To Bumi, who spent much time thinking about it, there was only one answer—Air. Kuei must have insinuated or outright said something about Air. Perhaps Kuei threatened Aang's future children; perhaps Appa and Momo were threatened.

Bumi knew it fundamentally had something to do with Air. But he was afraid that things were only going to get worse since Aang hadn't appeared and explained himself, revealing the reason behind Ba Sing Se's demise—for there must be a reason! If the Children of Earth knew that there was a reason, perhaps they could accept it in time, but Aang was nowhere to be found. There was no sign of The Avatar since the attack, and Bumi had the terrifying thought that Aang was lost in an iceberg again somewhere, but he knew Aang was likely at one of the Air Temples, probably horrified by what he committed.

He could understand that horror.

But time was running out. The Children of Earth demanded answers, and Bumi tried to answer them, but he knew his answers were inadequate. There were now only three kingdoms in the Earth Kingdom—Omashu, Zaofu, and Chyung. Zaofu and Chyung were lost to disarray and fear and now openly conspired against The Avatar, transforming their hatred for Fire to The Avatar. Omashu held steady, but it teetered precariously. Bumi had to play it carefully for now and be patient. But he knew he was the only one who could. Already, he knew there were many towns and provinces in the Earth Kingdom that were consumed by the story of Ba Sing Se's murder at the hands of The Avatar and chanted for The Avatar's death in recompense for the millions who died at what was once Ba Sing Se.

It was disturbingly reminiscent of the early days of the Great War when everyone in the cities chanted for Fire's death after hearing of Air's murder—but not with the violent intensity of what was now chanted because it was closer to home. For the Children of Earth, Air's demise was terrible news while Ba Sing Se's demise was an attack—a crime.

And justice was demanded, but Bumi knew nobody would get justice. There was something bigger going on; he could feel it, particularly because of the distressing matter of the vanishing members of the Order, dying from mysterious attacks. During the past four months, Order members disappeared, all contact discontinued because of something. Bumi sent one of the Masters of Earth to discover the source, and he received only one correspondence before there were no more messages.

We're being hunted! the Master of Earth wrote, and the grim desperation was more than apparent through the text. So many are dead, more than you fear, Grandmaster Bumi! There's a traitor in the Order, for that's the only reason why we could be hunted. I don't know who it is, but it's the only explanation. I wrote Grandmaster Pakku, and he said that he's found bodies in the South of our members. I wrote the Sage of Water in the North, but he only answered once and said that something has happened, needing his immediate attention. I fear he is dead. I believe we've found the reason why the North didn't join King Kuei's war against Fire Lord Zuko—the North was stricken by something. It must have been. I believe there are multiple attackers—all Firebenders—based on the state of the corpses, for I've never seen a single Firebender capable of such destruction and mutilation. But there's something else—some of the bodies I've found are strange. They are not like normal corpses of benders, which always contain a remnant of bending energy. These corpses are empty; there is an unnatural absence. The bending energy is nowhere to be found in these benders. I'm terrified of what it means. I'm going to keep searching and uncovering all that I can, and I'm going to keep you updated, Grandmaster Bumi. If you don't hear from me again, know that I am dead. If this be our last communication, know that I am forever dedicated to the Order and Avatar Aang.

Bumi feared why all the members were being targeted and killed, but he knew Aang wasn't the source of their deaths.

But who could it be?

The Order was comprised of many of the most powerful benders in the world and excellent strategists. Who was powerful enough except The Avatar to strike such a terrifying blow?

But more than anything, how did everything go so wrong?

The easy answer was Kuei—that fucking prick!—but there was more to it; he felt it.

Bumi just needed to figure it out.

"Is there anyone who can help us, Grandfather?"

He looked at his grandchildren—a grandson, Bor, and granddaughter, Anju. They were all he had left of his numerous children he sired during the Great War. So many were killed or died from disease, and Bumi failed them; he was a terrible father, and his failures manifested themselves in his many children. He chose to lead the fight against Fire rather than raise his children who needed him, and while he made the correct decision, he could have been more of an advisor rather than fighting in the front lines for decades. His sons tried to follow him, thinking it would make him proud, but all his sons—but one—died fighting Fire; his daughters either joined the fighting and, thus, were killed, or they tried to attend to political matters, but those daughters died because of the various plagues that hit because of the festering corpses that polluted Omashu's water supply.

Bumi suspected he had other children from his various exploits, but he didn't know them or know where they were. If he did, he would find each of them and try to atone for his many failures as a father. But he did what he could with Bor and Anju, for they were all he had, each born to one of his children. Bor was his grandson from his daughter who killed herself—and he knew the source of why she killed herself based on Bor's appearance—and Anju was his granddaughter from his son who died protecting his sister from the Butcher.

The Butcher.

At the thought of the Butcher, a burning fire burned in his mind, distorting his vision; bolts of lightning, flashes of terrible, blood-soaked memories, magnified his fury, and he closed his eyes to prevent the rage from pouring out of his eyes in impotent tears. But the fire continued to burn—as it always had. Sometimes, the hate threatened to deform his mind with its sheer strength and magnitude; it was a fire that could only be quenched by relieving violence—a relentless, ferocious, brutal, vicious vengeance for all the wrongs done to him and the ones he loved.

Bumi gripped his thighs softly, feeling the coarse, webbed, uneven flesh beneath his garments, remembering the lava that slammed into his thighs, robbing him of much of his mobility. Then, while he was unconscious, unprepared for something so unthinkable as lava, the Butcher raped Lira, his last surviving daughter after having already killed Sheil, his last surviving son. The Butcher was about to kill Lira, too, before Bumi regained consciousness and chased him off in an unintelligible fury, even with his robbed mobility; he marred the Butcher's face and catapulted him into the distance before collapsing again, unable to chase down the Butcher and complete his vengeance.

Lira helped him back to Omashu and nursed him back to health from the terrible, raging fever that almost killed him from the infection provoked by the lava. But she became pregnant, and though she never confirmed it since she had a husband who had died only weeks before the Butcher raped her, her suicide after giving birth did.

Bor was the Butcher's son.

Thankfully, Bumi only had the memory of the Butcher's face, bloodied and marred, not what he looked like prior to his attack. So Bor's parentage was less of a blow, and he had a fierce pride in and love for Bor, who could never know the truth of his origin. Bumi would never tell him; all Bor would ever know is the lie that both his mother and uncle died the night the Butcher attacked, leaving an infant Bor and toddler Anju in Bumi's care.

Bumi stared at Bor, and couldn't help but wonder, for the countless time, if he shared a deep resemblance to his father—why else would Lira commit suicide?—as he answered: "The only one who can help us is Aang, but he's nowhere to be found. There's some badgermole shit in the air, and it's clouding everyone's sense. I don't approve of what Aang did—if it was just that prick, Kuei, the Council of Five, and the Dai Li, I'd approve—but it doesn't make sense that Aang did that, not unless something happened. And with everything else that's happened, something bigger is here."

Batsu, born of a prominent noble family in Omashu, and, more importantly, Anju's husband, rubbed a hand over his face. "You speak of your circle of friends?"

He nodded. "I do. Many haven't answered my summons or sent a reply. That's never happened before. I'm afraid of what it means."

Anju sipped from her drink. "Do you think Zaofu or Chyung share your concern- "

"Of course not," Bumi chortled. "They're probably sifting through Ba Sing Se's rubble for their testicles that Kuei bought! Zaofu and Chyung have lost themselves to their anger, and they hate Aang; they call for his death—stupid fucks. It's going to get worse before it gets better. I hate what Aang did, but it's not going to change anything by calling for his death. I know that better than anyone alive."

Bor drummed his fingers on the table. "Didn't you know the current king's grandfather, fought with him during the Great War? If you reveal that connection—maybe say you're half-brothers or related—Chyung could be yours. But I don't know about Zaofu."

Bumi glanced at him in consideration. "But his son is now king with a young son of his own—fifteen or sixteen, I think. I'm not going to kill him."

Batsu's brows rose. "Then assassinate his father, giving him a throne of power. He will owe you."

"That's assuming he wants his father dead," Anju pointed out, shaking her head. "We can't take that risk. Omashu can't afford a war. If it's revealed that we disagree with the rest of Earth, the rest of Earth will attack us, replicating The Avatar's attack on Ba Sing Se as best they can."

"I don't think Earth can handle anymore death, particularly of leading figures, for a while," Bumi cut in. "Too much has happened in too short a time."

Anju nodded. "Have you tried messaging Avatar Aang, Grandfather?"

Bumi kept from wincing. "No. He'll come when he's ready to explain himself. I can't push him. If I push him, I think he'll stay away. Aang's broken up about it—I know he is."

"Then someone else? What about Fire Lord Zuko?"

He hissed through his teeth. "Many secrets have been told before they should be because a messenger runs his mouth, reading the secrets in the parchment he's sent to deliver, creating a rumor of truth. It can't get out that I'm more allied with Fire Lord Zuko than Chyung or Zaofu, not after what happened to Kuei, which is taken as a symbol of The Avatar's allegiance to Fire."

Bor's head popped up, face hopeful. "It's not clear if Toph was with Avatar Aang or stayed with Fire Lord Zuko. But if you address the letter to her and sent it to the Fire Nation, it could bypass that- "

"Everyone in Omashu, and most of the Earth Kingdom, knows that Toph is blind," Bumi pointed out, annoyed that Bor wouldn't stop thinking about Toph. But clearly his grandson loved Toph, always managing to fit her into conversation, even after she broke his heart. It was disgusting if not admirable. "It would be suspicious during these suspicious times. That's not going to work."

Batsu's brows furrowed. "There may be no avoiding suspicion, but what about your circle of friends? Anything being sent to the Fire Nation from anywhere will be suspicious, but surely there's someone you could contact who can get you in touch with Fire Lord Zuko."

Bumi sighed at the thought of Iroh. "Iroh's in the Caldera with Fire Lord Zuko."

Bor's head tilted. "Wasn't there a swordsman- "

"Piandao, and I've already messaged him, but he hasn't answered," he supplied. "I also sent a message to Jeong Jeong explaining everything I suspect; he hasn't answered, either. I'm afraid of what it means."

"Was this how it was during the Great War?" Anju asked, curious. "All the subterfuge?"

Bumi remembered those wild days and nodded, feeling a pang of fierce grief at the thought of Kuzon, his greatest friend—one who was stolen from him like all the others. "Even more if you can believe it. There were always opponents in the Fire Nation to Sozin's conquest, but they were few and far between, and we had to be careful when sending messages; we had to use a lot of tricks and aliases, and we had to write in code. But Sozin had so much monitored; he was brilliant and, rightly, paranoid." He closed his eyes in memory of Kuzon's failed assassination attempt; it was so close, but Sozin was Sozin, unstoppable and ruthless. At least Kuzon was able to kill two of Sozin's children. "But what's scary now is that I'm not sure there are many, even few and far between, who would oppose Kuei's pursuit, because his pursuit is now known across the continent because Zaofu and Chyung spread it far, telling everyone with ears. The horror and trauma of Ba Sing Se's murder, seen as a direct support for Fire by Aang, are too thick; it's too close to home. Back then, there was so much confusion, and people did different things; we weren't united, having different approaches to the Great War. But now everyone's primed to return to the state of the Great War. It's like fucking the same woman for years—familiar. People already know how to act and what to do. Before, nobody knew what to do, and it took Earth a long time—years—to adjust. We were all virgins back then. But there's something darker in the air now; there's something rabid. And Earth is almost unified under it, reverting to the instincts of the Great War—because the instincts never left."

Silence.

Bor averted his eyes. "Do you think Toph is alright?"

Bumi sighed, wishing that his grandson could have chosen a worthier girl. On the one hand, he liked the impact Toph had on Bor, but on the other much bigger hand, he hated it. He found Toph alright, on the whole. She had a lot of spunk, which he respected, but Toph lacked anything resembling wisdom and had an arrogance resembling, instead, a Firebender's—and Bumi hated it. If Toph had lived decades earlier, she would have never survived the Great War, not in those days when everything was insane, and she certainly wouldn't have survived Sozin and Azulon like Bumi had. The last several years of the Great War were easy and nowhere near as intense as the previous decades.

Both sides were tired, and Fire's victory was clear—until The Avatar returned. But Bumi saw the worst of Fire's conquest; he experienced it directly. At the beginning, there was a vicious frenzy, wild and chaotic, that lasted for several decades until it became something more severe and daunting, more structured and ordered. After Sozin and Azulon conquered Chyung and Zaofu, so much changed; things were not the same because Fire was already half-way through conquering Earth; there wasn't as much to conquer, leading to a new energy sweeping through the air. The frenzy became tempered. Not to mention Azulon's separate conquests of the South, which spared Earth from his primary focus for a combined eight years or so.

After Sozin and Azulon, Sozin's line wasn't as impressive militarily. Sozin and Azulon fought on the front lines, which was why Bumi did the same when he became king, and while Iroh fought on the front lines when he became of age, and fought for a long time, his presence wasn't as terrifying as Sozin's and Azulon's. Iroh didn't make much headway in his war against Earth; mainly, he strengthened Fire's hold on already conquered provinces and oversaw the structuring of the Colonies. And Ozai never fought on the front lines —coward! Bumi could have killed Iroh and Ozai in a fight always during his wilder days, but he could never kill Sozin or Azulon. The greatness of Sozin's line was in its genesis, called the line of Sozin rather than the line of Kai, for Sozin was so prolific that Fire saw him as Kai's ultimate, superior successor, beginning a rebirth for Fire. But Sozin's greatness degenerated over time, as all things did, not evolved as Iroh believed for so long before he saw the lies of his grandfather and father.

So many great men died during those first decades of the Great War, men greater than the many Bumi had encountered in the decades since. Bumi was more impressed by the memories he had of those great men he fought with and shared stories with than he was by anyone but Aang, Fire Lord Zuko, Iroh, Pakku, Jeong Jeong, and Piandao. He felt unimpressed watching the young ones rise to greatness, for they were so much lesser than those who came before—it was painfully obvious.

Fire's loss in the Great War was a loss of circumstances because Aang returned, nothing more. If The Avatar returned decades ago, the Great War would have ended promptly in a similar way.

Yes, Toph played a part in the Great War, all the members of Aang's new group did—they played massive but short roles—but they were expendable and replaceable like all combatants in war. He never found anything particularly impressive about any of them—and he really tried to find something impressive in each. But they were just a bunch of kids who hadn't fought long. Iroh's nephew, the future Fire Lord, was the most impressive, but Bumi expected more from an heir of Sozin after having fought the boy's grandfather in the biggest fight of his life. But Prince Zuko was young and lacking stature—and not in height.

Of course, Fire Lord Zuko later proved him wrong, strengthening and growing with age—just like Bumi once did a century ago.

But maybe he was too old and bitter to recognize Aang's new friends' accomplishments; maybe he resented that timing and circumstances were on their sides, whereas, for Bumi, timing and circumstances were never on his side for a century—because timing was a pure fucking cunt. No one planned against Fire like he did, spent decades of his life theorizing and pursuing, considering and acting; no one fought against Fire like he did, resilient and striving. But he never achieved victory against Fire, not really. His closest victory was nearly assassinating Azulon, which he thought he did for several weeks before it became apparent that Azulon wasn't killed by the mountain because he had flattened the wrong squadron.

He remembered the overwhelming joy and relief when he dropped the mountain, thinking he killed Azulon, Sozin's son, belatedly avenging Air's murder, of which Aang was part. He wept and hugged his surviving soldiers; they all cried together, their tears mixing with their blood from their open wounds. A celebration ensued, for while the losses were immense, it ended ultimately in victory—it was beautiful! Sozin's son was dead! And Sozin's grandson was young and immature, an easy foe to defeat! Bumi could effortlessly kill Crown Prince Iroh! The Great War was soon going to be over! Air would finally be avenged! Aang would finally be avenged!

But then messengers notified him that Fire Lord Azulon was alive and constructing what would become the Great Gates, and he was calling Bumi the Scourge of Fire.

The overwhelming victory turned swiftly to overwhelming loss, and the rage burned like it always had—but even more intense because he was so close! So close! Close! Close! Close—close! It was right there, but Azulon took it from him and never gave him a chance to fix his failure, for Azulon never set foot on the continent again.

It was a meaningless victory.

That was the last great battle of the Great War—at least between Earth and Fire. He knew that Azulon focused on the South and battled there. But by the time of the Great War's end, the Great War wasn't what it used to be; it was flickering and tenuous. Fire was going to win, even after all of Bumi's efforts, but Bumi's motivation wasn't what it used to be, not after the Butcher took so much from him; he failed his children, but he wasn't going to fail his grandchildren. He would be there for his grandchildren, and he would raise them; he would love them. So, he stepped away from fighting on the front lines, leaving the duties to those less capable than himself. It was bitterly done, but he did it. Because the Butcher's attack—that fucking lava!—robbed him of much of his mobile foundation, and Earthbenders need mobility and foundation. And his grandchildren needed him.

But as the Great War neared its conclusion, it was obvious that Fire was going to win; it was inevitable.

But then The Avatar returned, and The Avatar was Aang! It was Aang—Aang!

The memories of that day were often on his mind. When he heard that some kids had tried to ride the mail chutes and caused mayhem, he was intrigued because no one had rode the mail chutes for decades like that. Times changed, and things weren't what they were once. One of the casualties was that the joy of riding the mail chutes was forgotten, and Bumi himself hadn't ridden the mail chutes since before the Great War. It had been a hundred years since he rode the mail chutes; he forgot about the mail chutes—or forced himself to forget so not as to lose himself in the grief of losing that beautiful boy that was Aang.

Hatred was so fulfilling but exhausting.

Bumi demanded to see the perpetrators, interested to see what children resurrected a game thought-to-be-dead, even by himself. But in walked an Airbender dressed in airbending garbs, and Bumi couldn't believe it—it was impossible! But it was true—it was true! The walk that he thought he had forgotten met his disbelieving eyes; it was the vibrant colors he thought he forgot; it was the tattoo of mastery he thought he forgot, perfect in its alignment across the Airbender's body, centered masterfully, the work of the wise Air Nomads; it was the flutter in the garbs, the wind singing its tune; it was the smell of a fresh breeze relieving him of the terrible memory of that horrifying, evil smell at the Southern Air Temple a century ago—when he traveled to the Southern Temple to see for himself if the news was true; it was the gray eyes that he hadn't seen in so long; and it was the airbending that confirmed it after Bumi threw the meat, flawless in its effortless execution in catching it between his hands, floating in the air like a holy relic of a bygone age.

He had seen many frauds in his travels dressed in similar garbs, trying to pass as an Airbender, trying to make money or become famous. Bumi found all of them and killed each of the frauds, disgusted and in hateful despair. Because they were frauds, and it was easy to prove.

But what—whom—he stared at wasn't a fraud—the boy was an Airbender! A real Airbender, so young and so resembling that beautiful friend he lost. He had long forgotten what Aang's face and eyes looked like, a source of terrible grief and fury, but there were Aang's face and eyes, miraculously staring back at him in confusion after he threw the meat, not recognizing him, and he knew instinctively—he knew!

It was Aang! By Devi, it was Aang! And there was only one Airbender who could survive a century unchanged, immune to Time—The Avatar! He found both The Avatar and Aang—because Aang was The Avatar!

But Aang didn't recognize him, because how could he? Bumi changed so much in a century, and he was all that was left of he and Aang's old friends. Kuzon was executed by Sozin after the failed assassination attempt which was only successful in killing two of Sozin's children. But Bumi remained living in a world that was impossible and didn't make sense, so horrible and lethal. But Aang was there, and things started to make a little more sense.

It was amazing; it was the greatest day of his life.

Bumi tested Aang, creating tests that only Aang—the Aang he knew—could solve and defeat, hoping that he could show to Aang that the path before him wasn't easy and that he must work intensely. And Aang performed brilliantly as he always did because it was his friend—his friend was alive! It was a miracle!

And when he finally hugged Aang, the overwhelming yearning he had denied himself since laying eyes on him, Bumi felt that heartbroken boy looking upon the destruction of the Southern Air Temple and the atrocities therein find relief after a century of hatred.

His faith was rekindled, and he felt hope. Fire's conquest wouldn't be forever; Fire's season was ending. And it was because of Aang. But unfortunately, he couldn't go with Aang; he couldn't teach Aang earthbending as he so desperately wanted to. Because it was never his time, for timing was never on his side; timing was a cunt.

When once he had been at the forefront of the Great War, one of its biggest, most impressive players, he was later relegated to the sidelines as Aang found a new group of friends to fight Fire and end Sozin's conquest. Bumi couldn't do much; he surrendered Omashu, saving his citizens lives from a war of attrition, and he wasn't the man he used to be because of the Butcher's attack. When Fire captured him, he knew they wouldn't kill him, for he was too valuable; his life was a psychological attack against Earth. If he was killed, he would be a martyr around which Earth could rally and rebel, doing everything he once did. If he was alive, it kept Earth subservient, for he was a hostage, ensuring Earth's good behavior, for he was Earth's champion and fighter, the only one who ever made a real difference. Earth would never risk his life after all the times he risked his life for Earth. Thus, Fire captured him instead of killed him, knowing he wouldn't fight against being captured.

And he didn't feel the overwhelming urge to fight like he once did—because he knew, somehow, Aang would handle it. So, he surrendered Omashu and waited for the opportune moment to strike. But retaking Omashu during the Eclipse felt hollow because the enemies he wanted to kill weren't there. And he couldn't celebrate because all his enemies were dead—and the real enemies that kept him awake at night weren't killed by him. Sozin and Azulon were spared his hatred—damn the spirits!

Bumi once wanted to win the Great War more than anything, but upon the Great War's end, it felt like a hollow victory; he didn't celebrate, really. He only thought about the events of a century of war and found that he missed some of those events. He felt bitterness that the Great War ended the way it did. Liberating Ba Sing Se was meaningful, but it wasn't killing-Sozin-meaningful; it wasn't killing-Azulon-meaningful; it wasn't killing-Ozai-meaningful.

He should have played a much bigger part in ending the Great War because he was worthy of it. He had suffered for a century to defeat Fire, and he dared anyone except Aang to deny him his rightful place at the first in line to defeat Fire and strike the mortal blow. But a group of children who should have never been in the Great War ended the Great War—it was abominable!

Aang and Fire Lord Zuko were understandable, but the others weren't.

It was infuriating and unfulfilling, but he felt grateful that Aang and his group accomplished what he couldn't, even though the victory was Aang's victory and no one else's—although Toph boisterously proclaimed otherwise.

So, Bumi quite enjoyed always humiliating Toph in their sparring sessions after she came to Omashu after traveling through the Earth Kingdom, running away from her home. Originally, Toph boasted boldly that she could kick his ass and make him eat his own shit, and Bumi showed her what the Great War—what Sozin—molded him into, although he never unleashed the Fucker of Fire on her. He just played around with her, toying with her because it amused him, and just when she thought she would beat him, he would wipe her off the floor instantly.

While he always enjoyed dismissing her youthful arrogance, Toph did grow on him eventually—if only, primarily, because it was so clear that Bor cared for her. However, Bor didn't think clearly when in Toph's presence, and Toph took obvious advantage, treating Bor more like a servant rather than a prince, a great man's grandson.

It was badgermole shit, but he only supported Bor in his pursuit, knowing Bor had to learn on his own—just as Bumi had to learn on his own once. He liked Toph, but he didn't like her with Bor because he couldn't see how anything good could come of it. Sure, it possessed a tantalizing possibility of a stronger ruling lineage by combining their strength in their children, but that wasn't enough.

Toph clearly was incapable of hard decisions as a queen needs to be able to handle, epitomized by her uncharacteristic timidity after their confrontation four months before she left.

He never figured out how she discovered his secret, but when she did, he had to act. She confronted him about it, saying she wanted to tell Bor, which he knew Bor wasn't ready for, and she told him to go fuck himself when he said she couldn't. It culminated in him nearly killing her in an attack and only sparing her with the promise—threat—that should she try to tell Bor, she would be blind forever, incapable of earthbending; he would annihilate her and all that she was.

Bumi threatened to mutilate her feet, crushing them by boulders, or even chopping them off. As expected, Toph was cowed, but also unsurprisingly, she was incapable of making the hard decisions. She simply continued on like nothing happened after their confrontation, clearly not telling Bor about it, but it gnawed at her; still, she did nothing. When she finally acted after Fire Lord Zuko's letter, she fled in the middle of the night, not leaving any letters or preparing Bor for her departure. Instead, she left word with a servant, who gave a message to Bor.

He had felt Toph leave the palace, knew where she was going, and done nothing to stop her. It relieved him that she left, for it ensured that Bor wouldn't know his secret. But it quickly became clear that Toph had left for another reason based on Bor's behavior and confession after she left.

She had left because of Bumi and Bor, not one or the other.

"Toph's alright," Bumi answered. "I don't think Aang killed her if she was at Ba Sing Se, if that's what you're asking. But she could be; it's possible."

Bor cringed. "I know, but is there a way to see- "

Anju closed her eyes, looking pained. "Bor, she left; she left you. She doesn't care. If Avatar Aang killed her, he killed her. It's not a big loss- "

"It is to me!" Bor snapped, voice rising, and his eyes blazed. Bumi wondered if he looked that way during the Great War when fucking Fire. Or was that how the Butcher looked when he raped Lira and murdered Sheil? "I don't want her dead! I want her here and alive!"

"You were impatient, Bor," Bumi reminded, knowing why Toph ran from Bor. But they didn't need to speak of why Toph ran from Bumi himself. Bor never needed to know that. "That's what scared her. You're being impatient now, and nothing we can do will let us know if Toph is still alive. I think it's very likely she's still alive, but there's a small possibility that she's not—just like with anything."

Bor swallowed. "But what if she's dead? What do I do?"

Bumi remembered that his grandson was young and, thankfully, spared from the horrors of the Great War. "If she's dead, you have to deal with that. But you deal with it slowly," he advised, voice softening as he remembered all his terrible experiences. "It will come, and it will consume you. Don't brush it off; don't tell it to fuck itself—accept it and go through the fog. That's the only way. Death doesn't care who you are. You can be the self-proclaimed greatest Earthbender in the world, but it will still take you. I knew great men during the Great War, all friends and brothers, and Death took them; Death took all my children. The fog is inevitable, and you have to deal with it; you have to get through it. Don't fight it. You have to let it take you; let it fill you; let it hollow you; and finally, let it pass through you."

His grandson looked miserable and slumped in his chair. "Let's talk about something else."

"Will Avatar Aang come here and do the same?" Batsu dared ask, and Bumi found that he hated it but understood it.

Bumi snorted. "No. Kuei pissed him off; that fucker did something to provoke all of that. We wouldn't provoke Aang, and Aang's my friend. Kuei made himself a lot of powerful enemies these past years."

Anju nodded. "Good riddance. But what about Ba Sing Se?"

"It will be rebuilt, and Children of Earth will live there again. And Bor will be Ba Sing Se's king."

Bor's eyes bulged from their sockets, and Anju had a similar reaction. "What? What are you talking about?"

"Ba Sing Se must be rebuilt, and Kuei had no one left of his lineage," Bumi explained. "That's why he was so happy about marrying Princess Katara—she could help him extend his withered lineage. But none of that's going to happen; Ba Sing Se is for the taking, but I don't trust Chyung or Zaofu. And I don't want Ba Sing Se; I've never liked Ba Sing Se. It will go to you, Bor. You will be Ba Sing Se's king, and I will be Omashu's king until my death, after which Anju will become Omashu's queen."

Batsu hesitated, glancing at Anju, who looked shocked. "Are you sure, King Bumi?"

Bumi snorted. "I've thought about it since before I heard Kuei died. It's the only thing that makes sense; it's the only way peace is possible."

Bor blinked rapidly, trying to understand something once-thought impossible. "You want me to be King of Ba Sing Se?"

"I was planning to assassinate Kuei, anyway," he revealed, shrugging. "Ba Sing Se will be yours, Bor, and Omashu will be Anju's after I die."

"You were going to assassinate King Kuei?" Anju breathed, eyes wide in astonishment. "But that would be war against you!"

Bumi stared at her, wondering what she would think of him if she knew the depths of his exploits during the Great War. Then she certainly wouldn't be surprised by his plan to assassinate Kuei. "I would have handled it. Kuei was going to drag all of Earth down with him in his madness; he was never going to stop. Aang did what I wanted to do before I did—except he went a lot farther. He went way too far. Either way, this was the plan. Both of my grandchildren will have thrones."

Bor stared at him. "I'm not ready to be a king, and Chyung and Zaofu wouldn't accept me. You should take over Ba Sing Se while Anju takes Omashu; she's older, and she's ready. And she'd have Batsu with her!"

"Chyung and Zaofu would accept you over me."

"But you're the Fucker of Fire, renowned across the Earth Kingdom! Before the Great War ended, you were more beloved than Kuei could have ever been!"

Bumi closed his eyes briefly. "This is politics, Bor—the worst part of kingship. It's all a fucking game; it's all a joke. They don't want me having too much power. I've always been the strongest of the Earth kings, even if Kuei wouldn't admit it, and they don't want me becoming stronger by being in control of two thrones."

"But that's what would happen, regardless! I'd be seen as a puppet taking orders from you!"

"Then I'll step down and let Anju become queen while you're in Ba Sing Se- "

"I'm not ready to be king!"

"I wasn't either," Bumi lied, remembering how eager he was after seizing Omashu's throne, how enraged and hate-filled he was, ordering a full assault against Fire, leading the charges himself. But Bor was not like he was, no matter how much he wished. Thankfully, Bor seemed to hold no similarities to his father in character beyond the likely physical resemblance. "But you're going to be king, and now you know."

Bor sagged in his chair. "How did you handle it? What did you do when you learned you would be king?"

Bumi saw flashes of blood and gore, his violent assassination of his predecessor, a weak man who couldn't lead, only ceding ground to Sozin—the crime that Toph had discovered and confronted him over, which culminated in him nearly killing her before he decided to threaten her instead. "I could have handled it better," he said shortly, hoping the memories weren't visible on his face. "But I'll be here to help you. Nothing's going to stop me."

"Good."

XxXxXxXxXxX

He hadn't believed the rumors of Ba Sing Se's demise, thinking it a psychological attack meant to galvanize Earth in their new war against Fire. It was common during wartimes. Fire Lord Azulon was renowned for his psychological attacks, which, rumors say, were even directed against his heirs.

Jeong Jeong believed the rumors based on his experiences with Azulon's sons.

But Bumi's letter left no doubts, and he had to warn Iroh because it was worse than he had imagined!

A month ago, Avatar Aang lost his control, and just as he wounded his friend, Katara, wounded Ba Sing Se—forever. And there would be no healing as there was for Katara—he knew! A rising bloodlust drifted across the continent and over the ocean into the Fire Nation, and he could smell it; he could feel it. But beyond the bloodlust, which he once embraced intimately, there was something more; there was something darker; there was something more secure and stable while bloodlust could only be transient and fleeting.

Whatever was coming—the Enemy as Bumi called him—was firm and unwavering, and it was horrifying. Why did so much have to happen in his lifetime? Why not another lifetime? Why did so much have to happen in the past 132 years? Had the generations before the past 132 years lived so comfortably and easily that Nature—the cosmic cycle—was correcting from one extreme to the other? Where was the balance? Why had The Avatar not fixed the fundamental imbalance?

Jeong Jeong did not believe the problem had its source in Avatar Aang but a previous Avatar, based on his extensive studies after joining the Order. Avatar Kuruk was likely the harbinger of such imbalance, beginning a terrifying thousand-year stretch in which balance was impossible; the world had operated only on the ends of the spectrum since his reign, alternating between two extremes. Avatar Kuruk was so lazy and unconcerned, so apathetic, it produced chaos, which led the pendulum to swing all the way to Avatar Kyoshi's rigorous order, which produced Avatar Roku's indecisive nature that culminated in chaos, which was the world Avatar Aang was born into before Fire Lord Sozin unleashed calamity.

Avatar Kuruk's incompetence culminated—would continue to culminate in—Avatar Aang's reign, the Avatar before the next Water Avatar. Or perhaps Avatar Yangchen was the source of Avatar Kuruk's chaos. What about Avatar Jinzhai? What—who—was the source of it all? Was there a source? There had to be a source!

There were stories of wonderful, transcendent times in the past, times in which The Avatar did his duty and Light flourished, and Life seemed balanced. But Darkness was enticing, and the Enemy seemed to understand it.

Jeong Jeong felt like he lived in a nightmare.

There was no peace in the world. After the Great War ended, he had such blissful hope that peace, harmony, and balance would be possible, but so many he encountered wanted nothing to do with the Light, only the Darkness. War would rape the world once more, for Earth and Water hated Fire for the Great War while Fire hated Earth and Water for their severe, imposed penalties—masqueraded as reparations—for Fire's role in the Great War.

Some things were unforgivable, and until the accumulated animosity was released, the tension would only grow, and he feared the conclusion. Because there was something wrong in the world; there was a sickness, propagated socially, infecting everyone, and Jeong Jeong felt the effects. He once basked in those effects during the Great War before he awakened to the destruction he wrought.

His awakening was painful, and isolation was the only cure he could conceive, but he knew the world could not isolate—unless the Four Nations segregated themselves from one another for a couple generations to give time for the tensions to be forgotten. But while he approved of that cure, he didn't think it was possible, not now—not yet.

He wasn't sure the world would ever be ready. Things must be in their places, and the Four Nations were out of their places, imbalanced, and it was only getting worse—embodied by Avatar Aang's loss of control when he banished Ba Sing Se to legend.

Jeong Jeong didn't know what the cure was, but he knew his duty. Upon reading Bumi's letter, he immediately left for the Caldera, heart grim but determined, prepared to join Iroh and Fire Lord Zuko against the Enemy. And he thought he was prepared—he wasn't.

The attack was sudden and unexpected, savage in the darkness of night, and Jeong Jeong failed to prevent it—and the deaths of those with him.

The forest was alight with flames, burning uncontrolled, producing an atrocity to Nature—or perhaps a cleansing. But Jeong Jeong hated to comprehend Fire as cleansing, for it only reminded him of Sozin's pursuit of 'cleansing' the other nations of their impurities. The light of the forest provided confirmation for the identities of his assailants—the Fire Sages. But he couldn't diminish the roaring flames everywhere, for if he diverted his attention, the Fire Sages would kill him, for the Fire Sages were traitors.

Not again! It was unthinkable! When spiritual leaders were corrupted, loving power and gold more than their principles, looking outward rather than inward, it revealed the destiny of the nation!

Had the Fire Sages ever been reformed after the Great War, or had they been biding their time to strike, to join the elusive, nameless Enemy?

Too much was happening all at once, accumulating over decades of turmoil and imbalance, for it to be a coincidence! Something was going on! Something planned! Something big!

Damn the Enemy, whoever he was!

"Traitors," he hissed, summoning a wall of fire taller than the trees and slamming it against the Fire Sages, keeping his hold so none could walk through.

But suddenly a tall figure suddenly walked through the wall effortlessly where the Fire Sages struggled. The beard was new, as was the shewn hair, but the man was recognizable—deposed Fire Lord Ozai.

"I thought you had died finally," Jeong Jeong said, lowering the wall of flames, knowing he could not afford to waste energy on the Fire Sages, who were insignificant next to the threat of deposed Fire Lord Ozai. He dared lower all the flames in the forest to save the forest, and surprisingly, deposed Fire Lord Ozai allowed him to do it.

In response, the Fire Sages all alighted their hands with flames, providing visibility; they stood behind deposed Fire Lord Ozai like a wall, shadows extending into the forest.

"The Deserter," deposed Fire Lord Ozai called out, a sharp smile under his beard. "I once thought I would never see you again."

Jeong Jeong stared at the amassed Fire Sages—more than two dozen in number. "You have been busy."

Deposed Fire Lord Ozai chuckled. "My son is strong, but he refuses to wield his rightful power. The Fire Sages desire leadership, and neither my son nor The Avatar provided it to them. I do, and they follow me in my rightful pursuit. I will have my vengeance. The world will be mine."

"The Avatar will stop you."

Beautiful, massive flames bloomed across deposed Fire Lord Ozai's hands, alerting him that The Avatar's pacifist solution to end the Great War was a doomed failure. "He will try. My bending is awake, and I bring with me years of torment and vengeance. I will flay him alive—as I have so many of your friends."

He closed his eyes briefly at the news that deposed Fire Lord Ozai was responsible for his friends' deaths. "How did you find me?"

"Does it matter when you are going to die?"

Jeong Jeong smiled, but it was cold. "You want to tell me—so you may delight in my agony."

Deposed Fire Lord Ozai's smile was equally chilling. "A traitor in the so-called Order of the White Lotus. And hunting The Avatar's loyalists is my training after my years of shame."

The confirmation was dreadful, and he wavered in the realization of who could have provided the treachery in the Order, who could supply deposed Fire Lord Ozai with members' locations—only a Grandmaster or Sage.

He remembered Bumi's letter in his satchel, and the dread transformed into denial. "No, Bumi would never ally with you."

Deposed Fire Lord Ozai's brows rose. "The Scourge of Fire? No, not even I attempt to hunt him, not yet. He nearly killed my father, and my father was brilliant in his power."

"Until your wife assassinated him."

Deposed Fire Lord Ozai's face darkened. "Do not belittle my wife."

"I do not belittle her," he corrected honestly, still amazed at Princess—Dowager Fire Lady—Ursa's unthinkable feat in assassinating Fire Lord Azulon. "I pity her—because she married you."

"My wife is a stronger Firebender than you."

"She is."

Deposed Fire Lord's face spasmed. "This is how you chose to live your final years. You descended to savagery and, thus, your death must be equally savage."

Jeong Jeong remembered Prince Ozai, the spare heir, isolated and resentful, awkward and tense; how long ago those days were. "How far you have both risen and fallen."

"I know how to play the game; I know how to get what I want. I play the game better than any man alive."

"But it will bring no peace."

"Piandao said something similar before I burned him alive," deposed Fire Lord Ozai sneered. "Avenge your friend, Deserter."

Jeong Jeong shifted his stance, locking his arms behind him. "No. I will not fight you."

Depose Fire Lord Ozai's smile was a torment. "Because you recognize your superior; it is the natural order, the hierarchy of Being. There is always someone better, something I once thought impossible until I encountered the god."

"He will defeat you again."

"He will defeat himself," deposed Fire Lord Ozai countered, smile growing into something sinister and prideful. "He is weak and ineffectual—because he can do what he wants but refuses to. He is easily malleable."

Jeong Jeong's eyes narrowed, unable to resist; he felt like a flame drawn to a larger fire, embodied by deposed Fire Lord Ozai. "What did you do?"

"I know you've heard the tales of Ba Sing Se's demise, only one month old. But what you haven't heard is The Avatar murdered Ba Sing Se because of me."

Silence.

"But you still live," he managed to say, trying to comprehend the impossible. "The Avatar should have murdered you- "

"His attention was elsewhere," deposed Fire Lord Ozai dismissed. "But I know if he focused on me, for but a moment, I would be dead because his power is beyond me; he is superior to me—but not for long. I will ascend and become his superior; he will kneel before me, and I will relieve him of his head—the very burden on his shoulders. I will be the god—the ultimate power. All will kneel before me. We can start now—kneel, Deserter."

"When you rise socially, you fall spiritually," he observed, looking past deposed Fire Lord Ozai to the Fire Sages. "You are a shame to your predecessors who once dedicated themselves to their purpose. You corrupt that purpose in pursuit of social power. I am not the one who's weak, enslaved to desires whose conclusion is only consumption and destruction. The Avatar knows consumption and destruction, triggered by you in Ba Sing Se, but he knows so much more; he has a hand in all things. But you will only ever know consumption and destruction."

"I will match his power; it is my vow."

"But your strength will never match his."

Deposed Fire Lord Ozai's hands became alight with fire. "Will yours match mine?"

"I won't fight you."

"The Avatar once made a similar declaration before he revealed his fundamental nature as a liar and fraud. And you are a liar, too, Deserter. You fought the Sire Sages."

"To preserve the lives of my friends, who are now far from here."

"I will find them and kill them, too," deposed Fire Lord Ozai dismissed. "If you kill me, you preserve their lives even more. Will you make that sacrifice, Deserter?"

Before he could answer, massive spurts of fire, bigger and more intense than any other Firebender he had met, including Iroh, roared toward him.

The response was instinctive, and Jeong Jeong batted the flames away with a strained effort, participating in the battle. Immediately, it was clear how far above him deposed Fire Lord Ozai was in strength, ferocity, and, shockingly, control. How far he had risen, indeed. The memory of Fire Lord Azulon's awkward, impatient spare prince was nowhere to be found.

It was a fight between two men, one older and one younger; one embodying Fire's worst traits and one the best traits; one vigorous and one feeble.

The battle was over quickly, and Jeong Jeong laid, wheezing on the forest floor, leaves crumpled beneath him; burns littered his body, and one of his arms was broken. Above him, deposed Fire Lord Ozai loomed, triumphant.

"My father prized your talents," deposed Fire Lord Ozai said. "How shameful that you forgot those talents."

"I never forgot those talents," he whispered, turning his head to look at the forest one last time; Nature was so beautiful and intelligent. "I live with the reminders every day."

A foot interrupted his vision, and Jeong Jeong watched, pained, as deposed Fire Lord Ozai sifted through his satchel and pulled out Bumi's letter. He said nothing as deposed Fire Lord Ozai read its content before laughing. "Why am I not surprised? The Scourge of Fire and my brother are friends—and after all my brother's public proclamations to skin the Scourge of Fire alive while the Scourge of Fire vowed to end Sozin's seed. Let my brother read the contents and weep like the fool he is, knowing there is nothing he can do. Let him know shame; let him know humiliation; let him know impotence. And may my son share in his distress."

"Fire Lord Zuko will continue redeeming the blight of your grandfather's sins," Jeong Jeong coughed out, chest heaving with effort. "The son eclipses the father in all things—it is destiny. Your son's destiny arrived much earlier than most sons."

A fierce kick smacked his face. "And your fate has arrived now."

The blood leaked from both his nose and mouth, and a whistle echoed when he spoke due to the chipped, broken teeth, but Jeong Jeong felt serene. "Your grandfather was a tyrant that Heaven rejected, but he still met his fate. And you will meet your fate, too. The Avatar will bring it to you, and you will be powerless to stop it."

Jeong Jeong didn't try to tame the flames that consumed him.

XxXxXxXxXxX

Sunlight pierced through the eternal darkness of his mind, gently waking Aang from his peace. It impaled his defenses suddenly, but the sharp, wounded cry was familiar as awareness swept through him. He blearily opened his eyes and unseeingly stared at the intricate air symbols carved into the stone for several moments as he tried to orient himself. Where was he? What happened?

He felt a terrible exhaustion that wasn't at all physical and a terrible headache pounded between his ears. He tried to think of the reason for his physical state, but no matter how desperately he sought the answers, he couldn't think straight. Trying to keep himself from panicking, he inhaled slowly and tried to latch onto his last memory. What was the last thing that he remembered?

Azula had been sitting next to him, but his attention hadn't been on her, had it? No. No, it was something else. What was it? It wasn't Toph; it was someone else, someone he loved and trusted-

"Mad Balance-Keeper!"

Gyatso's screeching words suddenly and painfully erupted into his ears with the force of Combustion Man's explosions, and Aang flinched as he was catapulted back to what happened as he sat on Appa's head-

Appa!

The events in Ba Sing Se—everything that had happened—assaulted his mind, and Aang physically recoiled from the images, springing back at the memories. Appa's blood was sticky and fresh as it stained his hands, marring his Air Nomad arrows with the blood of his best friend. But it wasn't only Appa's blood; it was Kuei's brains staining his hands, flecks of gray matter squelched under his fingernails. It was the blood of millions in Ba Sing Se, all innocent of Kuei's sins and Ozai's crimes. But he hadn't cared.

Oh, why hadn't he cared? Why was he willing to be Sozin reborn? Why didn't he realize what he was doing? Why didn't his past lives stop him? Why—why?

Aang's chest felt crushed by the weight bearing down on him—all the bodies he destroyed, pilfered of their spirits. And the spirits revolved around him, faceless—because he never knew their identities!—as they condemned him, screeching the truth of his fate.

He would never be anything but a Mad Balance-Keeper.

And the spirits' faces were marred by terror beyond understanding as they pointed at him; their necks were arched in unnatural, impossible, painful angles, and their vein-exploded, blood-filled eyes were filled with death-causing pain and outrage.

"Look at what you did!" Gyatso cried out, wizened face ashamed and disgusted. "This is the future you wrought! You have intensified the imbalance! You are a murderer!"

"I'm sorry, Gyatso!" he choked out, words tangled on top of another. "I didn't mean it- "

Gyatso was severe. "Yes, you did, Aang. You meant to kill everyone, and you did not care who died from your wrath. You are not an Air Nomad."

"No!" Aang denied, finding his voice. "That wasn't me! It was The Avatar."

"You are The Avatar."

"No! I'm Aang, and The Avatar is- "

"The Avatar is you, and you are The Avatar."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. "How do you know? You aren't The Avatar!"

"You identified yourself as The Avatar, not Aang."

"Stop lying! You can't say anything about it! You're Gyatso, not Aang and not The Avatar!"

Gyatso was daunting. "I am not your mentor; I am your guilt."

Silence.

Aang swallowed, unable to prevent his tears. "Please."

"Why do you deserve life? Why do you still live after committing the atrocity of Sozin?"

He flinched and clawed at his ears, trying to keep Gyatso's words from impacting him, but it was futile. "I live because I'm The Avatar."

"But you do not deserve life, not after what you have done! Not after what you have heralded to molest the Realms! End your pitiful, shameful existence and be reborn again. Another Avatar could do a much better job than you! If you are of Air as you claim, you will give yourself Air's fate."

"The Avatar doesn't deserve to live," he slurred, vision blackening with spots. "The Avatar's evil. I'm evil."

"Then rectify this blighted evil, Aang," Gyatso judged. "Atone for your sins."

Aang dimly recognized the movements his hands executed perfectly, but no sphere of air wrapped around his head in a vacuum to deprive his body of air. He wept, desperately executing the movements again, but the air wouldn't respond to his commands. Thinking his bending was gone, he executed another move, and the air lapped against him like a lover.

Despite his sins, he still wanted to live. He would never find his peace himself.

Gyatso's face was severe and disgusted. "You cannot even kill yourself correctly. You are a pathetic Avatar. You are not of Air."

"No, no," Aang groaned in a pitiful whisper, tears descending his cheeks, and he scrubbed at them, feeling the long but thin hairs on his cheeks and jaw, which curved around his mouth and down his neck.

How long was he unconscious?

"Gyatso, please," he said, reaching out a hand to him. "Give me peace; I can't do it."

Gyatso's eyes flashed. "You do not deserve peace; you deserve to remember your evil and live with the truth of the monster and abomination you are."

Aang lurched out of the bed, falling on his face as his legs collapsed, but he ignored it, pitifully crawling to the window. He had to leave! He was suffocating, throat closing just as he had suffocated Kuei and the Dai Li and Council of Five—and so many more! The walls were closing in on him, attempting to crush him—just as he had crushed millions of lives!

He needed the peace again! Why did he wake up! What woke him? Why did he have to wake up? Why?

"Good morning, Aang."

The images vanished, along with Gyatso and all the spirits, before his eyes, and he groaned aloud in relief, turning around. His eyes wearily connected with Pathik's, feeling their similar states. Aang felt miserable, and Pathik's eyes were solemn.

Aang licked his lips. "It's not a good morning, Pathik."

"I understand why you think that," Pathik commented and sat down beside him; Aang felt grateful that there were no platitudes.

"You know?"

Pathik nodded. "You descended into wrath."

Aang stared at his hands, which looked clean—but they never would be. "I killed everyone. I want to go home. I want to go back to when everything was beautiful."

"Look out the window there, Aang."

He followed Pathik's gaze, and he saw Agni shining in the sky, bathing the world in light. "What about it? It's the same thing I always see."

"And is that not a fundamental comfort? There is an order and stability, a perceived but incomprehensible intelligence and design. Agni returns from his rest each day; Indra provides our air to breathe; La provides our water to drink; and Devi provides the stability beneath our feet. Today is a good day; today is a good day always. Yesterday was a good day; yesterday was a good day always. We don't know if tomorrow will be a good day, for it is unknown, but if the Elementals continue to imbue life into the world, tomorrow will be a good day. Isn't it beautiful?"

Aang stared at him, unimpressed. "That's a nice thought, but I murdered Ba Sing Se yesterday."

"You murdered Ba Sing Se two months ago."

His eyes widened, and his fingers drifted over the hairs on his face. "I was unconscious that long?"

"And every day since has been a good day."

He closed his eyes in frustration. "These high-minded ideas don't help me. They don't help everyone who died because of me! They don't help all their loved ones and family in the other cities and provinces in the Earth Kingdom! Look at what I did! I murdered all those good people!"

"Only by accepting that Life is good will you ever obtain peace, for which I know you yearn more than anything- "

"I'm not talking about Life!" Aang snapped. "I'm talking about my life; I'm talking about the lives of all the people I just murdered! I know Life is beautiful and wonderful! But my life within Life isn't! And I made all those other lives within Life terrible! Look at what I did to them!"

Pathik nodded. "I know. But somehow, your day in Ba Sing Se was good and every day since in the months that have followed."

"How can you say that? It was evil! I'm evil!"

"How can you say it is only evil when you do not know what your day in Ba Sing Se will evoke across the world?"

Aang swallowed at such a thought. "Terror, hatred, and distrust—all for me."

"And what will terror, hatred, and distrust evoke?"

He put his head in his hands, wanting to scream, but he only groaned. "Another war."

"But what will another war evoke, Aang?" Pathik asked patiently, and Aang resented his tranquility.

"Death!"

"But wars are not endless, even the Great War; there is always a conclusion. What will be the conclusion of another war? Peace."

Aang stared at him with wide eyes. "You're insane. I murdered Ba Sing Se! And I didn't do it for peace! I did it because I didn't care!"

Pathik hummed. "It relieves me you are self-aware enough to admit that. But good days- "

"So, every day since Sozin's evil has been a good day?"

"Yes, because Air is not gone; it is only empty—for now. It will return through you; its beauty will permeate the world again. And Air's emptiness is not the end of Life, for there is more to Life than only Air; there are Water, Earth- "

"I don't care about the other races!"

Pathik stared at him, eyes ancient. "As epitomized by your actions against Ba Sing Se."

Aang flinched. "I don't want to talk about this anymore."

Pathik placed a calm hand on his shoulder. "So much of what we think we know is merely artifice."

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Wisdom only increases when resentment decreases. The seasons change always. You are in the Winter, and you shall live in the Winter for a long time, but the Spring will come, which leads to the long, nourishing Summer. It is part of the cosmic cycle. The Winter is the very reason why the Summer is so beautiful. But there are many—arrogant, forgetful, and dishonest—who resent the Summer, brimming with misunderstanding and imbalance, for they desire conflict and challenge, which the Winter provides. You cannot have the Summer without the Winter, and you cannot have the Winter without the Summer."

Aang's eyes closed. "Because peace belies mortal nature," he recited.

Pathik smiled, and it was fond. "Ahh, one of Gyatso's favorite adages. Him and I shared many wonderful discussions about mortal nature."

"I'm not interested in hearing them."

"I did not think you were. I must apologize, Aang—I forget how young you are. Our last conversation did not go well- " Aang winced at the memory. "- and I pushed you too hard. You spoke many truths on which I've ruminated in the years since."

Aang closed his eyes. "I don't want to talk about this now. I just woke up. There are other things on my mind."

"What you saw was not Gyatso."

He cringed, realizing Pathik heard his insanity. "I know. It was my guilt."

"I commend your self-awareness."

"How's the temple?" he asked, changing the subject quickly.

Pathik smiled. "Come and see."

Aang found that he didn't have the will to stand up. "And Appa?"

"Healthy and strong. I dare say that I have never seen such a healthy sky bison."

Tears welled in his eyes, and Aang felt such relief at the confirmation that Appa was okay, and he remembered those terrible moments. "I healed him in The Avatar State, and I brought him back. There would be changes. I poured my power into him. I healed everything there ever was to heal, from a nick to the lightning. I perfected his body."

"And you must perfect your mind and spirit," Pathik replied. "You must complete your training. Your chakras are blocked."

"I don't care."

Pathik sighed. "Then what happened to Ba Sing Se will happen again. For years, you denied the problem, simmering. Look at what happened. It cannot happen again."

Aang ran a hand over his face, wishing he never woke up. "I'm a fully realized Avatar. I don't need more training. I've been training for years. I've mastered every bending art there is to master!"

"You are not preparing vigilantly for Vaatu, who will test your spiritual capabilities and endurance exceedingly more than your physical abilities."

He felt no surprise that Pathik knew Vaatu's identity. "I'm going to put him back in the Tree of Time."

"You can only defeat him with a balanced spirit, and you are fundamentally imbalanced. I can feel it right now."

"Your senses are wrong."

Pathik's eyes crinkled. "I do not wish to repeat our last conversation, Aang."

"Then stop talking," he mumbled. "Your timing is terrible."

"I think you are fearful."

"I don't need training- "

"You fear—rightfully so—what such training will force you to confront."

"Nothing's going to help me heal from everything that's happened," Aang whispered, looking at nothing; not even the familiarity of the Air Temple's room helped. "There's no point."

Pathik hummed and was quiet for several moments. "What does it mean to heal?"

"I don't care what it means to heal!"

"I think you should, Aang. Think of how you healed Appa—you perfected him. Your healing will perfect you, manifesting the wisdom, perception, and understanding unique to you alone, which will save the world."

Aang found the strength to scoot away from Pathik, not caring if he acted like a child; he hadn't been a child since he learned he was The Avatar. "I don't think so."

"Healing is acceptance- "

"No!" he shouted, finding immense energy sweep through him. "I will never accept Air's slaughter! I'm never going to get over that! It's evil!"

Pathik closed his eyes for several moments. "I accept Air's slaughter, Aang, and it wasn't easy to accept. It took me almost thirty years to accept it. I had no peace for a long time, and Air's wisdom seemed feeble for so long. But enough time passed where I reached clarity. What I realized is that I was being close-minded about the possibilities. Life is still beautiful and marvelous, even with so much horror and grief. What if Air's slaughter, in the end, evokes good?"

Aang threw his hands into the air. "How could it possibly be good? It's evil!"

"Yes, it is evil, but is it only evil? What if there is something more to it? What if it was a 'necessary sacrifice,' so to speak?"

He wanted to throw Pathik out the window and off the temple, but he restrained himself. "How can you say that?"

"Because we all often make hard decisions that, upon considering the possibilities and consequences, we determine to be necessary sacrifices, no matter the consequences that arise. You have made such decisions before, Aang. Your actions at the Northern Water Tribe against the Fire Navy were a necessary sacrifice in killing the thousands upon thousands of soldiers so the Northern Water Tribe would survive. Maybe it is the same with Air's slaughter. What if there is complexity rather than simplicity? What if there is beauty rather than only tragedy?"

His eyes narrowed. "You've been talking to Azula."

Pathik smiled with delight. "Of course. She is splendid. I wondered when you would mention her. I can't help but wonder what her reasoning would be behind Air's slaughter because she is too intelligent to recite Sozin's indoctrination."

"There is no reason behind it but Sozin's evil!"

"Was there a reason behind your murder of Ba Sing Se but your evil?"

Aang cringed, trying not to remember. "Appa was murdered- "

"So?" Pathik asked, voice detached. "What does that matter when you murdered millions? Not even Sozin's evil compares to your evil in sheer volume. If all of Earth was populated in Ba Sing Se, you would have deprived Devi of all her children just as Sozin deprived Indra of hers."

"Stop it," he hissed, squeezing his eyes shut, the horror and revulsion a physical sensation that ravished his body, chilling his spine and seeping into his heart.

"What if there were many reasons behind Air's slaughter beyond Sozin's evil, which was, certainly, one of the reasons—but not the only reason?"

"I don't care!"

Pathik looked sad. "You need to learn to care again, Aang. You try so desperately to rip out the strings of your heart, but you never will. I wish I could give you thirty years as I had to come to terms and find peace, but I can't; I push you so urgently because we do not have much time. I don't know how you will obtain acceptance and peace, but you must. Your enemy gathers allies unto himself, and this enemy is primordial, beyond any enemy any Avatar but Avatar Wan has battled. But your battle is much more severe- "

Aang placed both hands over his eyes, pressing deeply. "I know. And I know that what I did to Ba Sing Se only made things so much worse."

"And you can only make things so much worse if you do not heal and become fully realized."

He swallowed, bitter that he—only him, not anyone else, because that's all The Avatar was and would ever be—had to make such a monumental sacrifice. "What must I do?"

"You are a Master in all the bending arts, including Energy, and you have control over The Avatar State, but there is so much more you can achieve."

Aang groaned. "Not chakras."

"Yes, chakras. Before, you merely unlocked them, which helped you gain control over The Avatar State. But you need to master your chakras—there's a difference. By mastering them, you will be able to access your full power and potential, the vast spiritual energy you have denied yourself."

He shook his head, feeling hysterical. "I'm not doing it. I can't do it. It would destroy me."

Pathik smiled. "It would destroy the identity you have forced yourself into. You will see things as they truly are; you would see you as who and what you truly are. I think at least half of the chakras will be relatively simple and painless, for you possess remarkable self-awareness and intelligence, Aang. Although, your Air Chakra will be the chakra that concludes whether you can become fully realized."

"I'm not going to be able to do it."

"You won't be alone- "

"You won't be helpful."

Pathik laughed. "I do not mean me; Azula will master her chakras with you."

Aang's eyes widened. "What?"

"She accepted the idea."

He sat there for several moments, absorbing that information. "That's not going to change the inevitable—I won't be able to do it."

"But Azula will help you, and I suspect that her presence will facilitate healing."

Aang's eyes narrowed, and he tensed as he recognized the gleam in Pathik's eye. "Don't go there."

Pathik only smiled. "Why not? She is a beautiful woman who devotes herself to extraordinary pursuits. She is intelligent, and her and I have shared many stimulating conversations since your arrival."

He grit his teeth. "And in those 'stimulating conversations,' did she happen to mention that she nominated herself for Mother of Air?"

"Yes."

Surprised, Aang shook his head. "No, I mean, that's all she wants—the power and reputation given to her by me."

Pathik sighed. "How unimaginative you are, Aang—and so dishonestly close-minded. I don't think you foresee the possibilities and significance. The Avatar's wife is a renowned position- "

"And that's all she wants—the renown."

"It's a renowned position that so very few women could ever possibly fill. But Azula is intelligent, patient, and reasonable, possessing qualities and traits that few do."

Aang closed his eyes, wishing to fall back into slumber. "She lost her mind, you know."

"And you haven't? But I don't think you care about that—in fact, I know you don't care about that."

"It worries me that she could do it again."

Pathik's brows rose. "And I'm certain it worries, not only me, but Azula that Ba Sing Se could happen again."

Aang scoffed, doing his best to block out the guilt; he failed. "She probably loved it. She's been so desperate and bold about wanting to see The Avatar State. And Kuei was demanding her head for years; she hated him, and he hated her."

"Who is she to you?"

"The only friend I have," he snapped, hoping the insult was understood.

If it was understood, Pathik was unbothered by the fact that Aang didn't consider him a friend. "A friend would not only want the power and reputation such a position and title would give her; a friend would not visit you so often while you slept; a friend would not lament the fact that you miss the beginning of Air's revival; a friend would not take such a profound interest in and fascination with Air, spending days exploring the temple and in the library, asking insightful questions and embracing Air's teachings, wisdom, and philosophies. Is that a friend?"

"Yes," Aang answered, hoping he didn't sound as unconvincing as he thought he did; he ignored the flush of affection stirred in him by such an account.

Pathik only smiled. "Have any of your friends ever taken interest in Air- "

"They're not my friends."

"But whatever Azula is, she has devotion and fidelity—to you."

"Because I'm The Avatar."

"Because you are The Avatar, no matter how much you resent that fundamental truth. You can try to make yourself appear what you are not—growing your hair and wearing long sleeves to hide your tattoo of mastery—but you will always be The Avatar, designated, for now, as the Last of Air. I think it is The Avatar that grieves you more than Air's loss, for Air will return—you know this—but you are The Avatar forever, and you can't accept it, for it is your shame. Confront your shame, Aang, for, until you do, there will never be peace."

Aang shook his head in aggravated wonder. "You really aren't my friend."

"I tell you what you must hear, not what you want to hear."

"I don't care."

"Again, you must learn to care again." Pathik placed a hand on his shoulder, and his eyes latched onto the arrowhead on his forehead under his hair. "Do you remember that boy who once so proudly displayed his tattoo of mastery?"

He swallowed and brushed Pathik's hand away. "I would peel it off if I could."

"Why?"

"Because it's only a reminder that I'm the only one who has it. And the tattoo of mastery is what allowed Sozin to hunt down the survivors of the Attack!"

"Air will return- "

The tears welled in his eyes, and Aang felt so tired. "Why don't you understand? No, Air won't return, not the Air that was, which will always be better than the Air that could be, for What Was is always better than What Is!"

"What if you are wrong?"

"I'm not! How could I possibly be wrong? Air was wonderful and beautiful; they were pure! If Azula was Mother of Air, Air would never be pure again—because they would have Sozin's blood tainting them and compromising their purity!"

"You've thought on this," Pathik observed, words spaced in consideration.

"Of course, I've already thought about it!" Aang snapped.

Pathik hummed and smiled. "That's interesting."

"No, it's not. Azula will never be Mother of Air. She's of Sozin's blood."

"That boy you were would have never been so lazy as to judge based on blood."

Something horrified but vicious seized hold of him. "The Boy's dead—I'm glad he is!"

"That boy is broken and forgotten. You have cast him aside- "

Aang's fists clenched, and the room rumbled. "Because he deserved it! It was his fault that everything went wrong! It was his fault that I'm The Avatar! It was his fault that Air's gone because he was too weak to stay! It's his fault that I'm alone! The Boy's all that's wrong with the world!"

Pathik's eyes shadowed with sadness. "He must reclaim his place in your heart, Aang. You have a rare opportunity. You can exercise forgiveness like Air teaches- "

He sagged against the wall, wishing the conversation would end, but he participated regardless; it was better than talking to his guilt, embodied by Gyatso. "Air was wrong. I'm not forgiving Sozin, not ever."

"I speak of forgiving yourself."

Aang flinched but shook his head. "No, the Boy doesn't deserve it, and neither does Sozin. Both are evil."

"And is Azula to blame for her forefather's actions?"

"Of course not," he snapped, sighing in disgust. "Do you think I'm that simple? I don't hate Azula or Zuko or Iroh or Ozai for Sozin's crime. I hate Sozin himself and only Sozin himself, and I will hate him forever; I will be reborn into Water hating him. I will teach my children about Sozin's evil, and they will curse his name just like I do. They will know the truth of Sozin—he thought he was brilliant, but he was only brilliant in his depravity. No one will ever live in this world who is as smart as Sozin thought he was, not even the poets and philosophers. My children will know that Sozin's spirit haunts his tomb rather than enjoys the Gardens. Air will never forget Sozin, but we will be free of him—because Azula won't be Mother of Air."

Pathik was quiet for several moments. "What would you say to Sozin if you could speak with him?"

"I'd ask him 'why,' but I don't want to hear his deranged rationalizations." His fists clenched, and he suddenly felt The Avatar State like a beacon in his soul, calling his attention, whispering in his ears, tempting him, liberating him. "I should go to his tomb, capture his restless spirit, and obliterate him from Life."

Pathik looked sad but unsurprised. "Which would make you worse than him."

"I don't care."

"Air still exists in the Gardens- "

"That's not good enough! And has it occurred to you that I haven't done it?" he demanded through clenched teeth. "I could easily do it! But I never have! I follow the Laws of Balance."

Pathik nodded adamantly. "As you should. But I commend your restraint and your adherence to Air's wisdom."

Aang looked down. "It's hard. There have been times where I've journeyed into the Spirit World and traveled to the Gardens of the Dead, but I've never been able to cross the threshold; something held me back."

"And because your instincts are true, you will have joyful experiences again, Aang. Maybe Azula can provide you with joyful experiences."

"I'm not attracted to Azula," he denied.

Pathik laughed. "At least try uttering a lie not so obvious."

"She's not attracted to me."

Another laugh, softer than the previous. "Again, an obvious lie."

"She's attracted to The Avatar- "

"Because you are The Avatar, and you always will be. Your attempts to separate yourself are an illusion."

Aang crossed his arms. "A comforting one," he mumbled.

"As long as you maintain your illusions, shutting your chakras even more, your misconceptions will be all you know."

His head perked up, and he looked around the room for the sack that contained the ancient airbending scroll, but it wasn't there. Let go of the misconceptions that plague you, the ancient scroll had said. Enter the void, embody Air, and walk on the winds.

"Where's my sack?" he demanded. "I need it."

Pathik tilted his head to the side, considering him. "Azula has it. If you need it, only she can provide it."

Aang's exuberance faded like Agni's light when the darkness of night appeared. He couldn't talk to Azula, not yet! It wasn't because he didn't want to, but rather because Pathik's words would be echoing in his ears if they talked, thus forcing him to wonder and imagine. The Avatar and Fire Princess of Sozin's line would never work, not even a little. They were totally different in character, beliefs, and personality. He was an Airbender, evading every obstacle in his path and achieving freedom, whereas Azula was a Firebender, aggressively attacking every obstacle in her path and seeking power. Plus, she had tried to kill him dozens of times and almost had when she shot him full of lightning in Ba Sing Se all those years ago.

And Azula was clearly seducing him only for the 'power of the world' that she often mentioned.

It didn't matter that he felt such a simple and soul-soothing peace whenever he was merely in her presence, or that she was willing to challenge him, The Avatar, unafraid to speak what was on her mind, a first that he had experienced while maintaining honesty and reasonability. It also didn't matter that she seemed to accept every part of him, including the unholy darkness and evil that he could unleash so effortlessly that he himself hated. It didn't even matter that they understood each other, had a bond, and that she was the most strikingly attractive girl whom he had ever encountered.

None of it mattered—because she was of Sozin's blood!

"You must be open-minded but discerning," Pathik advised. "Your healthy skepticism can quickly become debilitating."

Aang stared at him for several moments. "I'm not sure. I trust her, but I don't trust the blood in her veins."

"But does her blood, truly, inform her identity?"

"It's Sozin."

"But not Azula. Do not mistake Azula for Sozin; she is worth more than the blood in her veins."

"Evil blood," he corrected. "I'm never going to compromise Air with her impurity."

"Is it her impurity or Sozin's impurity?"

"It's hers because she carries Sozin's impurity," he stressed. "She's of his line, one of his heirs! Air's blood must remain pure from that stench."

"The Air Nomads never believed such nonsense," Pathik said, disappointed.

Aang shook his head. "Maybe they could say something like that when there were many who possessed Air's lineage, but now, Air's blood only exists in me and no one else! Maybe if Azula weren't of Sozin's blood, I'd pursue something, but she won't be Mother of Air. I've made my decision."

Pathik looked out the window, face warmed by Agni's light. "You rationalize your decision, which is feeble, and you don't sound convinced by it. You know for what you yearn—love. Love is part of the cosmic cycle of imperishable creation. We all love, striving for a connection transcendent to the boundaries imposed by time and space. We love, which produces children, who will love and produce children of their own, repeating the cycle endlessly until the End. Our love produced the Four Nations as we know and understand them. And love will produce Air again. You want to love the Mother of Air, whomever she will be, so Air's rebirth can be a product of love, so it can become again the Air that was."

"It would make things easier," Aang confessed. "I've thought about it a lot, but if I have to relive my desires as Kuruk, I will. I trust Azula, but I don't believe her."

"Trust and belief go hand-in-hand."

"Then I don't trust her nature, which is lusting for power. That is why she's attracted to me—because I have all the power."

"What if that has changed? A positive change would- "

Aang scoffed, staring at him in disbelief—and growing rage. "Now who doesn't adhere to Air? Air teaches that change is a plague that weakens bonds and harms sustainment in which your judgment shifts from one position to the next, chasing whims and impulses, forgetting wisdom in favor of disdain and contempt! But Air said to prepare for change, for change is inevitable—like the seasons and cycles of the world. And everything did change, didn't it? But while Air taught that change must be used to enforce your traditions and wisdom, this change obliterated everything, pilfering the world of the ancient joy of Air! And everything about Air is like a memory whispering in my blood, a story that I never connected with fully—a story, not lost, but erased from history because of Sozin. Change is a plague and reveals what is not. Because Nature doesn't change; Life doesn't change. Azula's blood will never change; she will always carry Sozin's stench. And her nature won't change; she will always lust for power. And that's what she would focus on rather than Air. She couldn't handle being the Mother of Air. The great deeds and wisdom of Air, propagated by all the striving monks and nuns, must flow from Azula's lips forever as Wife to me and Mother to my children, but she was raised an heir of Sozin, taught of Fire's supremacy, indoctrinated to think of Air as feeble! She's only trying to seduce me! She'll destroy, either overtly or covertly, everything that relates to Air—finishing the job that Sozin tried so hard to! I'm afraid she'd conspire with my enemies, with Vaatu himself, because she couldn't handle what I expect of her—what I need to expect of her! Air is righteous and free, imposing on themselves duties, and I have a duty to Air more than I ever would to her! And I have a duty to the world as The Avatar! I'm afraid she'd hate that and destroy everything I've worked so hard to preserve and revive already, leaving me with only the memory of Air's old customs! All that's left of Air, and the freedom that goes with it, is the shadow and name, and I must change that by doing everything possible! If my children are to be true Children of Air, never to be mired in the fraudulence of the other races, I must raise them as true Air Nomads; I must teach them how great Air is and has always been better than the other races, how renowned the monks before them were, and how great we still are despite Sozin's horrid infliction! I must tell them of the teachers and sages of Air, the heroes of our race, renowned for their wise deeds and profound insights. And these stories and teachings must be told in the library and the airball court, wherever it is, wherever I can, whether I'm happy or sad, because we can't forget them. We must—I must—keep them alive forever. And the only way that my children will be Children of Air is if my wife agrees and speaks of everything that I do, raising my children as they should be raised! I don't know if Azula can do that!"

Pathik frowned. "What are you afraid of?"

"That she'd taint my children! Maybe she'd turn them against me! Maybe she'd teach them allegiance to Fire rather than alignment with Air! I'm afraid she'd steal them away to the Fire Nation, raise them under Sozin's doctrines, and then send them back to me when it's too late!"

"You would stop that absurd notion from happening."

"But it would be terrible! I don't know if she respects me or if she's scheming!" Aang gripped his hair, feeling his madness return. "She's incredible, but will she stay incredible? Her voice is musical and calm; her eyes are alluring and enticing. She's beautiful, but her tongue is as nimble as any Airbender I've ever known, and it's been used before to devastating impact. I can't have that devastating impact affect Air—I can't. I can't have her ruin me and Air. She's been so reasonable so far, but I don't know if she's going to stay reasonable. I don't know if she's going to accept everything that I must do to revive Air. What if she suddenly wants to transform Air and make it more like Fire? What if she wants to write new laws for Air, none of which she would actually obey? What if she surrenders herself to her passions, as Children of Fire are so prone to do? What if she loves the power I give her more than me? What if the power I give her makes her mad again? I'm afraid she will love nobody but herself, not me and not my children, while wishing that all should love her through fearful worship."

"You're afraid."

"Yes!"

"Are you afraid because you will be giving the Mother of Air, whether it is Azula or not, freedom by not violently enforcing your will on her? Because that is not in your nature; you would never let yourself to do that."

Aang swallowed. "Yes. Because it's not Air. When you rob others of their freedom, you rob your own. Gyatso told me that freedom is the virtue on which all other virtues rely. 'Without freedom, all other virtues serve to make you a slave, forgetting your history and origin. Only freedom brings prosperity and peace, Aang. The only humans you can recognize as free are those who are not slaves to one another nor to themselves by preserving their morals and values. When you lose your morals, you lose your freedom by enslaving yourself to your desires, pleasures, and whims.' I'm not going to rob Azula of her freedom, but I'm afraid what she'd do with her freedom if she's Mother of Air."

"Because she is of Sozin's line?"

He glanced at Pathik and looked away, bitter. "And because it's her nature, and she only wants The Avatar and, thus, the power and renown I give her. I've seen it."

"You are paranoid."

"I see Gyatso, don't I?" Aang whispered, closing his eyes. "Why is it only me? Why does the Mother of Air have to be a woman not of Air?"

"Perhaps she is not of Air physically but spiritually and mentally."

Aang shook his head. "Air teaches isolation, refining itself by an intensive process in which monks and nuns gave life to each other across the generations, keeping Air pure, keeping Air free. But now, because there is no woman borne of Air, there will only be Bastards of Air, not Children of Air. I've read the annals, Pathik. I know our teachings about half-spawns. Half-spawns aren't allowed! Half-spawns are evil! Half-spawns are worthless, tied and connected to nothing!"

Pathik's face spasmed with disgust. "An archaic title that contradicts Air's teachings. That was many, many generations ago. It was during Avatar Kuruk's reign when he sired several children by the nuns, which produced an impact that provoked monks and other nuns to expand Air's lineage into the other nations, however briefly."

"But it was held for a reason," he murmured. "What if it was a good reason? They were exiled from the Air Temples, truly becoming nomadic. The annals say that introducing foreign morals, customs, and values by outsiders diminishes Air's primacy and compromises its purity. My children will be a mixture of Air and Fire."

Pathik smiled. "So, you choose Azula?"

Aang stiffened. "No. I'm considering her; I'm not choosing her."

Pathik only hummed, and Aang resented him. "Air was brilliant but not perfect, Aang."

"They're better than the other races—you know it."

A solemn frown crossed Pathik's face. "Your illusions are concerning."

"Look at what Fire did! Look at what Water wants to do! Look at a Great War lasting for an entire century, and they were all too stupid and weak to stop it! Look at what Earth wants to do again and what Kuei did!"

"King Kuei- "

"I realized what Kuei was doing," Aang hissed, trying not to remember what his realization evoked. "He thought he was doing good; he was convinced utterly that he was right, which made him dangerous and a terrible threat. But he wasn't right; he was wrong. Then we argued because of the differences in our outlook, and he refused to be intelligent and remember wisdom. Now, I wonder if that's what he wanted, if he was doing it on purpose. Because that's what he was doing the whole time after the Great War with Zuko. He was provoking quarrels and emphasizing differences between the races, which, inevitably, leads to war, as he showed by declaring war on Zuko! And with war, everything is thrown into confusion and destroyed. And it was by design by Kuei! I know it was! But I was blind for so long—so, so foolish. While everyone is killing each other, Kuei's people, his agents and spies, the same spies and agents working for Vaatu and Ozai, come and attack the ports to prevent escape, rape the women, kill the men, enslave the children—all by corrupting morals, which prevents anyone from ever knowing a semblance of freedom!"

"King Kuei surrendered himself to wicked passions," Pathik observed. "But so did you—to a far worse degree. Look at the conclusion of your- "

"I know!" he cried out in anguish, the air in his lungs thin and inconsistent. "I know what happened, and I know that I'm responsible for all that death and horror. It's my fault."

"Do you regret it?"

Aang stared at him in disbelief. "Of course, I regret it!"

"But you are still angry."

"Of course, I'm angry! Why did things have to go this way? It didn't have to! It could have all been avoided! Everything would be better if Sozin was never born! He started the cycle of fearful vengeance, and that disease overtook Kuei!"

"If Sozin was never born, you would not know Fire Lord Zuko and Azula."

Aang flinched. "Some sacrifices are necessary, no matter the cost."

Pathik shook his head. "Do not succumb to Sozin's reasoning, Aang. He perceived Air's slaughter as a necessary sacrifice for the Greater Good."

His fists clenched, eyes narrowing in outrage. "That's not- "

"I was there," Pathik interrupted, raising a hand. "With anyone else alive, you could hold the authority about this, but not me. I was alive, and I remember. That was Sozin's justification, and it was the justification that shocked Earth; it was his rationalization for the horror he inflicted. I was in the cities and there. And it allowed Earth to make its own rationalizations. I heard the whispers daily: 'Fire is enslaved to their sages and creeds, which are enslaved to their Fire Lord's dark will.'"

Aang bowed his head. "I don't want Zuko or Azula dead. I never have, and I never will. But I want Sozin dead; I want the world to forget his existence, and I want the Gardens to have no memory of his essence."

Pathik was quiet for several moments. "You spoke of Azula's nature. What of your nature, Aang?"

He looked at his hands, which dripped with the blood of millions. "I don't know," he whispered in agony. "I'm The Avatar, who is evil, a monster like Sozin, but I'm Aang, who's tired and guilty."

"You perceive Aang as primary while The Avatar is secondary."

"Yes."

"What if you are wrong?" Pathik asked, brows rising. "What if The Avatar is primary while Aang is secondary?"

Aang blanched. "I'm not wrong—you're wrong! The Avatar's a curse! A monster! A blight! Evil! The Avatar shouldn't exist! If I was noble enough, I'd kill myself in The Avatar State right now to rid the world of my evil!"

Pathik closed his eyes and bowed his head. "I don't agree, Aang- "

"And who cares?" he demanded, voice rising. "I don't! You have no authority here!"

"I am the only man in the world to live in another Avatar's reign and remember."

Silence.

Aang leaned back. "Roku's reign."

Pathik smiled, eyes gazing past him into the haze of the past. "I was about double your age when you died and were reborn into this life. I remember the world that was much more completely and vividly than you do. The world then had many problems, but it was good. Roku's reign was good; he made it good, which means The Avatar is not evil but good."

"The Avatar provoked Sozin's evil," Aang hissed, fists clenching, and he knew his eyes blazed with manic intensity. "Doesn't that make The Avatar evil? I'm the uncaused cause! It's me, and it's always been me! I'm why Air's gone, both because I'm The Avatar and because I was weak and pathetic! And Roku did nothing to stop Sozin's evil, not really and not truly, so doesn't that make The Avatar evil, too?"

"You refuse to listen to Sozin's deranged rationalization, but you force me to listen to yours."

"It's the truth!"

"You don't trust, Aang," Pathik pointed out. "If you don't trust, it's because you have no foundation of truth. If you don't know truth, you don't trust."

"I once trusted," he whispered, remembering Gyatso.

Pathik smiled sadly. "I miss that boy."

Aang turned away, the grief unbearable. "So do I."

"Perhaps that boy may yet be reborn," Pathik said, standing to his feet. "I want you to meet someone."

He slowly stood to his feet and wavered. "I'm not sure that's a good idea."

"Take my arm," Pathik suggested, and Aang told hold gratefully. "It is a good idea."

Pathik slowly pulled him along, passing the pristine Air Nomad art and statues, bringing a subtle joy and grief to Aang's heart.

But also guilt—for he was no Air Nomad, as Gyatso said.

But as they continued, the temple seemed alive and brighter; there was a vitality that had been missing. And hearing a sudden burst of a child's joyous laughter echo through the air brought him to his knees. He looked around desperately, looking for a child—children—dressed in orange and yellow garments, but the halls were empty of bodies.

But the sound echoed still, a harmony that resonated in his soul.

"Do you feel it, Aang?" Pathik whispered with a small smile. "Air's revival has begun."

Aang blinked rapidly, overwhelmed and stupefied; he never thought he would hear such laughter ringing through the halls. "How?"

"You must meet Samir, a child in whom Air's lineage endures. She reminds me of you."

He stared at Pathik, trying to comprehend the impossibility. "Air's alive in her?"

"She is descended from an Air Nomad of old," Pathik explained, face alight with joy. "She has gray eyes—just like every Air Nomad I ever met, and she's an Airbender- "

Vitality filled him, a vigor inexplicable, and Aang ripped his arm out of Pathik's and surged through the halls with the wind, following the sound of laughter. His heart raced when he jumped out the window and landed in the courtyard, eyes glancing everywhere, senses stretching, and he felt the vibrations nearby. Aang dashed immediately and came across Appa, Momo, Azula, Toph, and a child playing in the airball court.

The child ran around the airball pillars in odd circles before zipping to another one, and she would pivot again when Toph suddenly raised a stone pillar in front of her before dashing to another one. And Azula was watching with a critical eye, calling out directions.

He realized in several moments what they were doing, specifically when the child swiped her arms in a movement at Azula's command—practicing bending forms. But it was not firebending forms or earthbending forms. It was airbending, taught by Azula somehow. Astonished, he stared at the girl's sloppy, wrong movements that weren't correct in the slightest, and he felt sorrow, for he recognized none of Air in her features from the distance. And when he stretched his senses, it was so obvious that she wasn't an Airbender—she had none of that delightful presence and energy like every Airbender he ever met had. Apparently, all she inherited from Air's lineage were the gray eyes.

Pathik approached from inside and stood next to him. "It was Azula's idea," he informed, sounding satisfied.

"You said she was an Airbender," Aang accused, furious, glaring at him.

"She is- "

"You're a disgrace to Gyatso's memory by saying she is!" he hissed, so tempted to banish Pathik from all the Air Temples—toss him from the temple to the valley below if he had to! "She's not an Airbender!"

"Yes, she is, and Azula thinks she is, too. That is why she trains her now; it was her idea."

Aang realized he could never pierce Pathik's absurdity and grunted in disgust as he looked away. "How is she training her? That's not training. She's doing everything wrong—it's pathetic!"

"You must remember kindness again, Aang. Azula said she remembers your movements and watched you enough to act as a brief instructor. And Toph has suggestions, too. Apparently, Samir is light on her feet but does none of the movements correctly."

"Of course, she doesn't," he confirmed in a whisper, almost cringing when he looked back and saw Samir execute a movement so poorly, so terribly—it was horrible and evil! "It's pathetic. She's not an Airbender."

"She is- "

He almost unleashed The Avatar State on Pathik but refrained; he probably would have if Ba Sing Se didn't happen. "How old is she?"

"Six."

Aang sneered. "You know it as well as I do! Stop lying to me, you damned idiot! All Air Nomads I've ever heard of started airbending by their fourth year. And even if she was an Airbender, she'd be an awful Airbender. She's doing everything wrong. She's pathetic- "

"She is a wonderful child," Pathik defended, staring back at him fearlessly—and sadly. "I think she'll be so good for you- "

"She can only be good for me if she's good to begin with!" he howled, cracking the stone beneath his feet before he repaired it instantly. "Look at her, Pathik! I know you're not stupid! Stop being stupid! She's terrible! And for the last time, she's not an Airbender!"

Pathik frowned with a morose gleam in her eye, but before he could speak, Appa roared, and Aang turned, watching Appa rise to his feet and zoom toward him. In a huge blur of motion, an enormous tongue suddenly smeared against his face, and Aang welcomed it.

"You're okay," he breathed, closing his eyes into Appa's familiar fur.

"He made a splendid recover," Azula greeted, voice drifting into his ears. "He is stronger than before; it is most obvious."

His gray eyes snapped open in alarm, an emotion close to panic. He didn't know how to talk to her since Pathik's words, unable to help but wonder about a potential future of possibilities. He had thought about Azula being the Mother of Air more than he was comfortable admitting, but the conclusions he reached suggested that Azula could never be the Mother of Air.

It was an evil conclusion for her to be the Mother of Air.

But the fact that she was willing to teach Samir, an obvious non-bender descended from an Airbender—an impossibility!—airbending forms to the best of her ability warmed his heart and provoked sensations in his mind. He was filled with affection and awe that she was willing to do such a thing, especially while he was unconscious, unaware of Samir's existence because while it was a waste of time, effort, and energy, her action was clearly not born of malice but gladness, trying to and believing that she was doing the right thing.

In some ways, despite its idiocy, it was an act of love.

Slowly, Aang turned around, Appa's slobber drizzling down his face and body, gray eyes connecting with beautiful golden ones, and somehow, he knew what to say. "It's most obvious that you've been very helpful while I've been out of it. Thank you."

Suddenly, Momo shrieked in joy and darted through the air, coming around the curve of the tower, blurring toward him. Aang caught Momo and hugged him back, contentment stirring inside when Momo nestled into him.

He was at one of his homes—as much as the empty Air Temples could be. But there were others now, and he didn't feel so distressingly alone.

Azula smirked. "Who else was going to? Toph?"

Toph scoffed as she approached, and Samir hid behind Toph's legs—Aang pointedly didn't try to look at Samir as she was clearly not an Airbender. "I'd punch you for that insult, you know."

"But you will not."

"You've grown on me, I guess." Toph ran forward and slugged Aang's arm brutally. "But I'll punch Twinkletoes! It's good to feel you!"

Aang rubbed his arm but managed to grin at her. "Thanks."

The child now hid behind Azula's legs, and Aang was surprised that Azula allowed it—and he was further surprised that Azula seemed comfortable with Samir latching onto her. He felt more than saw Pathik's twinkling eyes.

He sighed at the beckoning look in Azula's golden eyes as she clearly wanted him to meet Samir, and when he hesitated, a glare appeared, to which he succumbed and kneeled in front of Azula, trying to catch Samir's eyes; the child's face was pressed into Azula's thigh, and she didn't look at him. Were her eyes really gray? And from where had Pathik procured an apprentice so young?

"I'm Aang," he said kindly, hoping his smile was as loose and easy as it used to be when he was younger. "It's nice to meet you. What's your name?"

The child shyly looked at him, and Aang, despite being prepared for the gray eyes, was astonished by the gray eyes, for he had seen those gray eyes before in his race during his childhood; they were the same shade as all Airbenders' eyes, a portal to the past where everything was bright and wonderous.

Aang could look into her eyes forever.

Azula hummed. "Her name is Samir, and she has something to tell you."

Suddenly, Samir's face transformed. "Avatar Aang!" she shrieked in awe and dashed at him; she latched onto his leg before he could react, and her beaming face stared up at him with a wide grin. "I'm an Airbender like you! You'll teach me!"

Stunned by her vigor, he instinctively reached out with his senses again and inhaled sharply when he felt that connection, the airbending connection he hadn't felt in anyone since the Day he murdered his race forever, but the connection he sensed in Samir was so wrong—it was so weak! She wasn't a real Airbender; she was an imposter! She was a fraud, a blight against Air itself! It was just a perennial reminder born of crushing disappointment of the lack of Air. The temple was alive with Air's energy, indeed, but Samir wasn't—because her connection wasn't a real connection, not like it should be. It was half-formed and incomplete, so pathetically weak.

"You're not an Airbender," he whispered, distraught. Maybe she was of Air's lineage and was an actual Airbender, but she wasn't real; she wasn't like Gyatso or any of the boys he grew up, who were so much better than Samir could ever be. Samir could never measure up, and with how frail her airbending energy was, it was obvious that she'd never be a master or anything—because she was fake! She was a fraud, an imposter that ruined his real memory of Air by trying to substitute it with something unholy and wrong!

"She is an Airbender," Pathik said kindly, but Aang only stared down at Samir, who looked so joyful, and he didn't have the strength to tell her that she wasn't an Airbender and would never be an Airbender—because she wasn't real like his race was.

She was a half-spawn somehow, an abomination of Air, not the real thing—and her features themselves weren't even that much like Air! She looked more like Earth and Fire, not Air! It was only her gray eyes and airbending energy, but the airbending energy was paltry, like the most timid of breezes, when it should be like a whirlwind of power and presence, impossible not to feel—because that's how it always felt when he was a child himself! She was of Air's blood, and though he sensed that she manifested that primal, ancestral connection to Air despite its vague energy, barely discernible unless he was actively looking for it, her blood was too diluted; she had the blood, but not enough of it.

She wasn't a real Air Nomad—because he was all that was left, cursed to only know abominations for the rest of his life.

All his children would be just like Samir, so pathetic to look upon and know.

He wanted to die.

"The Air Spirit saved her life," Azula added.

Aang's gaze snapped to her. "She saw Indra?"

"She was pretty!" Samir cried out, beaming. "She was nice. She saved me."

He looked back at Samir, and upon recognizing the Earth features, felt his insides hollow in realization. "You were in Ba Sing Se."

"Uh-huh."

Aang swallowed, and his eyes roamed her small body. "Did I hurt you?"

Samir tilted her head and laughed, and he didn't understand why she wasn't screaming in terror and running away from him. Didn't she understand what he did? Didn't she understand that he kind of hated her if not actually hated her? "No, the Air Spirit saved me."

"Did I hurt your family?"

"I don't have a family," Samir answered, smile falling from her face. "I'm an orphan."

Aang opened his mouth, but Toph interrupted, face eager: "I'll ask what's on all our minds—is she your spawn?"

He blinked at the unthinkable question, baffled. "What? Of course not. I haven't spread my seed yet."

But Samir might as well be his child because all the children he sired would be just as fraudulent, disgusting, worthless, and weak as Samir was—never to be real, living Air Nomads.

Toph shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe hearing the spirits walking made you want a distraction, and Samir said her mom was a whore. That's quite the distraction."

"I distracted myself in other ways," Aang answered slowly, annoyed at the reminder that he was forced to distract himself—because Katara, Sokka, and Toph weren't around. "I mastered all the bending forms I could."

"So, that's why you mastered metalbending."

"Yes." Aang turned to Azula, and he stared at her, trying but failing to understand—and trying to not become angry, though that felt impossible. "You were teaching Samir airbending forms."

Samir didn't deserve—wasn't worthy of—learning airbending forms.

"You talk about it often," Azula murmured. "You love Air. I witnessed your movements and tried to instruct her to the best of my inept ability."

Despite his fury that she desecrated Air by daring teach someone so profoundly unworthy of it, he felt a fierce affection stir inside him because it was obvious that she didn't understand and did what she did out of love, and he nodded, hoping she understood. "Thank you."

Samir tugged on his hand, and she stared up at him with hopeful gray eyes—he had to stop looking at her gray eyes because she wasn't a real Air Nomad! "Can you teach me airbending, please?"

Aang looked down at her, eyes crinkling; he felt his heart break in anguish because he could never teach her. "I can't- "

"But Guru Pathik said you would!" Samir cried out, looking devastated.

He glared at Pathik. "Guru Pathik has a habit of saying things he shouldn't. I'm sorry he lied to you, Samir, but- "

"I didn't lie," Pathik cut in serenely, smiling. "Samir is an Airbender, and Aang will teach her mastery- "

"Stop," Aang ordered, feeling his face twist; the dam began to crack. "Mastery? You're as evil as Sozin! She has the connection, but she's not an Airbender, and she'll never be an Airbender. How dare you say she is? She's nothing!"

Azula placed a hand on his arm. "Aang, stop."

He ignored her, sneering at Pathik; hostility buzzed around him, emanating from him. "Stop lying to her! You're just doing the same thing to her that you've done to me all these years—confuse me and lie to me, thinking that you know better than me. You don't! You're not even an Airbender! You're not an Air Nomad! You're nothing, too, Pathik—just like her!"

Samir abruptly bolted into the temple, and Aang stared after her running form, visualizing an actual, real Airbender in her place, and he felt mournful.

Toph blew her bangs out of her eyes, looking disgusted—and scared. "Your kids will be blessed to have you as a dad."

"Like you could ever make a judgment about fathers since yours paid mercenaries to kidnap you," he snapped, glaring at her.

"I wish you were back unconscious," Toph muttered distastefully with a deep frown.

"So do I. Then I wouldn't have to meet a worthless imposter who's not a real Airbender- "

Pathik stared at him in disappointment. "Indra saved her for a reason. Why would you dismiss- "

Aang's fists clenched. "Indra can come to me and discuss it. I've searched for her for years, and she's evaded me."

"Probably because she's ashamed all that's left of Air is you," Toph scoffed. "Why would you say that to Samir? She's a really good kid. I like her way fucking better than I've ever liked you."

It took much restraint for Aang to refrain from blowing Toph off the temple to crash into the mountains below. "I like her way better than I've ever liked you, too, which should tell you something," he sneered. "And I didn't say it to her; I said it to Pathik."

Azula's usual warmth was much warmer—she was angry. "You did say it to her, Aang."

Pathik sighed. "If you would allow me to explain- "

"You've explained enough," Aang cut in, disgusted. "Go lecture somewhere else, you blind idiot. She's not a real Airbender. I want real Airbenders—I need real Airbenders- "

"Samir is a lovely child," Azula interrupted, golden eyes piercing. "You should speak with her alone. She is six years old, Aang. She experienced Ba Sing Se, and she certainly would have died like the majority, but the Air Spirit saved her life. She said the Air Spirit called her a Child of Air- "

Aang shook his head. "She's not. There's a connection, but it's not a real one- "

Toph laughed in disbelief. "You're more arrogant than the Loser Lord! The Air Spirit is wrong about Samir being her child and being an Airbender? Wouldn't she know if Samir was one or not?"

Azula's eyes were urgent. "Samir said Indra mentioned a song."

Pathik nodded. "The Song of Air. It exists in her, but it is not in harmony."

"Because the connection's not a real one!" he snapped, wondering how they all could be so pathetically stupid, even Azula! Why couldn't they understand? "Your senses are senseless!"

"I tire of your doubt."

Aang's fists clenched. "I tire of your patronizing! You know nothing about Air because you aren't of Air."

"Air teaches- "

"What have you done to revive Air, Pathik?" he demanded, taking a step forward, ignoring Azula and Toph's concerned looks. "All you've done for over a century is sit here and meditate! You haven't spread Air's teachings across the world; you haven't tried to invoke Indra to bless you with airbending because of your spirituality; you haven't spread your seed in hope that you sire an Airbender because of your spirituality; you haven't done anything but stay in the temple and lecture me about what I need to do. You don't have the right to advise or admonish me; you don't even have a right to be in this temple, but I let you stay here. You don't have any damn right to say anything to me, least of all about Air!"

Pathik gazed at him with old, disappointed eyes. "You have fallen so far, Aang. Air welcomes everyone- "

The temple shook. "No, Air didn't. And they had every reason not to! Look at the other races, Pathik! Look at what they do! Look how they war and destroy each other! Look how they poison the world with their weakness and idiocy!"

"The boy you were- "

"The Boy was a waste of Air's blood!" Aang cried out, the darkness providing warmth and comfort, encouraging him, convincing him of his rightness. "Never has a more shameful boy relied on a pulse! The Boy is responsible for everything wrong in the world; he was weak and pathetic, going out of his mind. The Boy should have never been The Avatar; he should have died with his race."

Toph's milky eyes swam with tears. "Twinkletoes- "

"The Boy should have never been born."

Silence.

Azula grabbed his shoulders and twisted him to the temple; she directed him forward. "You should speak with Samir. Connect with her."

"No, I'm not- "

"Go," Azula ordered, golden eyes intent.

Aang stared at her for a moment before walking off, senses stretched to find Samir, and it wasn't hard. Feeling the air and earth around him, he followed the path of vibrations and sensations. The temple was alive beneath him, sitting on the mountain, and he felt the normal vibrations of Pathik, Toph, Azula, Appa, and Momo—and Samir. He stretched his senses further, feeling the fire and water around him through the temple. After several moments, he felt the heat surrounding him and Agni's rays; water entered his vision as he felt all of the many fountains in the temple and the lakes below the temple.

He hated how he felt so profoundly fulfilled by using all the Elements; he should only use Air! It was his vow! But why did he have to feel such a stirring for Water, Earth, and Fire?

Why was he The Avatar?

Finally reaching Samir's quarters, outside her room quicker than he wanted, he heard the sobs from inside.

He swallowed in grief, angry at everything but most of all himself—because it was his fault everything was like this in the first place. If he never ran away and went in the Iceberg, Samir's fate wouldn't be such a dour one because it would never matter; she'd never be lied to Pathik about being a real Airbender when she never would be one. But as her sobs echoed in his ears, he remembered how he sobbed after learning that he was The Avatar, alone in his room, told the truth of something he never wanted—just like Samir was told the truth that she wasn't and would never be an Airbender. He remembered the thoughts burning his mind then, the terrible, simple ideas like suicide, like jumping out the window and not using airbending to land.

Panicked that Samir had similar thoughts, he entered the room and felt something unclench when Samir wasn't near the window, only sitting on a rumpled cot, huddled, and weeping quietly; she wasn't aware he had entered. Looking around the room, he was unsurprised to see it looked like every other empty room—except it had an occupant and two beds.

Aang blinked in surprise and saw that, on the desk, there laid in the center an open scroll explaining Air's philosophy on perfection. Next to that open scroll there were other scrolls, all furled but based on how they were lined up, it looked like they had already been read and analyzed.

That was all much too advanced for a child of Samir's age, and it was something that Pathik already knew—but didn't have the right to know because he wasn't a real Air Nomad and preached heresies so an ignorant mind in Samir!—while Toph would never care to explore Air's teachings.

There were also candles in the room, whose burnt wicks showed that they were used often. But why would a child of Samir's age have candles in her room? It didn't make sense—unless it wasn't only Samir's room.

Was Azula sleeping in the same room as Samir?

That was the only thing that made sense.

Aang tried to imagine it—the candles were alight with sapphire flames at night while Samir slept in her cot while Azula sat at the desk, which was next to the second cot, reading Air's scrolls of wisdom. Maybe when Azula read something that fascinated or intrigued her, the flames would grow and darken in blue color, her emotions affecting the small flames. Then, when she was done for the night, Azula snuffed out the candles with a deep exhale and situated herself on her own cot, drifting into slumber, mind enveloped by Air's wisdom.

He liked the image, despite its wrongness.

He was pathetic and evil—as always.

"Is this where you sleep?" he asked finally in greeting, feeling a wave of remorse crash into him as Samir's quivering back straightened painfully.

Samir didn't respond, huddling in on herself even more, looking so small on her cot.

"It seems all I know how to do anymore is break things," Aang whispered, unsure of what else to say as his mind recoiled from the images of Ba Sing Se. "I wish I met you when I was younger. You'd like him. Everyone did. I think he'd know what to say."

Silence.

"Do you like the temple?" he tried.

Silence.

"Does Azula sleep in here with you?"

Silence.

"Have you tried a fruit pie yet? It's really good."

Silence.

"I'm guessing you snuck onto Appa, right? That's how you got here?"

Silence.

"I saw you playing in the airball court. Do you know what airball is? It's really fun. I used to play it all the time."

Silence.

"Have Azula and Toph treated you well?"

Silence.

"Do you know if Azula likes the scrolls she's been reading?"

Silence.

"Has Azula read to you any of the scrolls? Has she recited for you any of Air's wisdom?"

Silence.

"I can take you exploring if you want. The view from the top is like nothing in the world but the other Air Temples."

Silence.

"I can't do this alone, Samir," he whispered, sighing. "I need you to say something. You're not in the Immortal Realm, are you?"

Samir sniffed. "You hate me."

Aang almost laughed at how she had guessed the truth so simply, which was absurd because she was so young, but he didn't; he felt tired and raw. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Samir."

He was sorry that he felt that way, too—but there was no other way to feel.

"But what's wrong with me?" she cried out, staring up at him with those gray eyes. "No one wants me! I'm gross!"

"Gross?" he echoed, realizing that, impossibly, Samir understood how he felt about her with an unthinkable accuracy.

Samir was gross because she wasn't a real Airbender, just an imposter pretending to be one, enabled by Pathik's idiocy.

"My mommy was a whore, and my daddy was a Firebender! And I'm not an Airbender! I'm gross!"

Aang slowly sat down beside her, giving her the opportunity to move if she wanted to; she didn't move. "I'm gross, too."

Samir stared at him with wide, teary eyes, which only augmented the fact that her eyes were beautifully, brilliantly gray; Aang would be in love with her if he didn't hate her—didn't hate what she represented. "Really?"

He nodded, smiling kindly; it felt a lot easier to smile without the presence of the others. "I'm The Avatar, which make me gross and evil."

She gasped, turning to him fully. "But you're a god!"

"I'm just a broken and forgotten boy," Aang whispered, trying to keep smiling, but he felt it falter. "But The Avatar is different; he's a monster."

"But everyone loves The Avatar!"

"No one should love The Avatar—ever."

Samir blinked, looking curious rather than horrified; he didn't understand it. "'Cause of what happened at Ba Sing Se?"

He tried not to remember the carnage and death he unleashed; he failed. "And other things. Do you know about the Great War?"

"Uh-huh."

"That was my fault," Aang acknowledged, feeling Roku stir inside him, but he ignored him. "It's my fault there are no more Air Nomads; it's my fault I'm all that's left. I ran away from my home, and my home died because of it. I could have stopped the Attack; I know I could have. There are so many things that are my fault, and it makes me gross—I'm gross forever." He turned to her fully, exhausted. "The fact your mother was a whore and your father a Firebender isn't your fault, Samir, and it's not your fault that you're not an Airbender—it's not. Never think it's your fault."

Samir swallowed, tears spilling down her cheeks. "Really?"

Aang smiled, face softening. "Yeah. It's my fault, not yours. Okay? And even though you're not an Airbender and never will be, you have Air's blood, you have Air's gray eyes, and for that I love you."

She gasped, eyes bulging from their sockets, and her face was amazed; she stared at him like he was impossible—or what he had said was impossible. "You love me?"

And hated her, too.

He laughed slightly and grabbed her tiny hand, marveling at the delicate fingers, and he poked at one of her veins. "You see that?"

"Uh-huh."

Aang pointed at his own veins. "In our veins is the same blood, somehow and some way. We share Air's blood. In your blood is the blood of an Airbender, and because of it, more Airbenders. I love you for that, because now I'm not so alone. You may not be an Airbender, may not be of Air, but you are descended from Air. Maybe that will be enough."

It would have to be enough for his children when he had them. Maybe he could learn how to deal with it by dealing with Samir.

Samir pouted and poked and pinched her veins. "But why can't I be an Airbender?"

He really didn't want to discuss the intricacies of bending with a child who couldn't possibly understand it, but he chose his words carefully. "Bending is complicated, Samir. Your body has the connection for it, but it's not a real connection; it's too weak. It's supposed to be strong, and yours isn't."

Samir sniffed. "I want to be an Airbender."

Aang sighed. "I want you to be a real Airbender, too."

"Can you make me an Airbender?"

"No, I can't."

Silence.

Samir swallowed. "Okay. But can you stop my dreams?"

Aang frowned. "Dreams? What dreams?"

She pulled her knees into her chest, looking down. "I have dreams. They started when I came here."

"To the temple?"

"Uh-huh."

He considered her for several moments. "Do the others know?"

"Azula does, but the others don't."

"Why not?"

Samir shrugged. "I don't want them to hate me."

Aang tensed. "Why would the others hate you about your dreams?"

"They're bad."

"What do you mean?" he asked with a dreadful feeling. "What are you dreaming?"

Samir shook her head pitifully. "I don't want you to hate me."

Aang reached out and picked her up—she was light—and placed her in his lap, so she was facing him directly; their eyes locked—gray eyes and gray eyes. "I'm not going to hate you for your dreams, Samir. What do you see in your dreams?"

Her gray eyes watered, and her face trembled; her cheeks were both flush and pale. "It's dark and scary. And a voice keeps talking about you; he says you're making him angry. He says he'll hurt everyone."

"Everyone in the temple?"

"Uh-huh.

His grip on her arms tightened for a moment before he loosened; it was clearly Vaatu. "I'll stop your dreams, Samir. How often do you have them?"

She shrugged, bowing her head. "I don't know. Not every day. I want them to go away! Make them go away, please!" Samir was shaking badly, terror etched into her features.

Aang felt compassion and pulled her forward into his chest. She stilled briefly and then snuggled into his chest and finally, she sobbed, the wails of a poor and petrified child echoing in the air terribly. He soothingly rubbed her back, brushing his fingers against her sob-wracked form, and he remembered how Katara once comforted him during the Great War when his nightmares—memories—were too overwhelming.

"I'm going to stop your dreams, okay?" he said into her hair. "I used to have dreams, too."

He still had dreams.

Samir remained nestled into his chest, her sobs still audible, but he heard her question clearly. "Really?" Her voice was hopeful as her sobs quieted.

"Yes," he whispered back, remembering his prophetic dreams of Sozin's Comet that he had mistakenly and stupidly ignored. "It was about my race. It was a warning of Sozin's Comet. Do you know what that is?"

She nodded, her sobs ceasing; she seemed calmer, and her breathing wasn't as erratic. "It's what ended the Great War. Everybody says The Avatar won that day."

"But The Avatar lost when Sozin's Comet came a hundred years ago," Aang said, still feeling the perpetual grief and horror. "Air died that day, and I wasn't there to stop it. My dreams told me it was coming, but I couldn't interpret it. I was a child, weak and foolish. I should have known; I should have known. I should have told Gyatso."

Samir nodded. "Your daddy."

Aang stiffened and looked at Samir, startled, finding that she stared at him with clear gray eyes. "You know Gyatso?"

She nodded again. "Azula said he's your daddy."

He nodded slowly. "He was."

"You miss your daddy."

Aang felt a harrowing melancholy. "Every day, but I don't want you to talk about him, okay?"

She didn't deserve the honor.

"Okay."

"It was my fault he died. I could have stopped it, but I ran away instead. I had the dreams, but I never told anyone about them. You're smarter than me, Samir."

Samir's eyes widened. "But you're The Avatar!"

"The Avatar is at the mercy of his own limits and understanding," he replied mournfully, recalling Gyatso's wisdom. "I misunderstand more than I understand; I produce more imbalance than balance; I end more lives than I save lives."

She burst forward and wrapped her little arms around Aang's back as tight as she could. "You're not gross, Avatar Aang. And I'm sorry you had dreams, too."

Although Samir didn't understand, although she would never understand, although he hated that she wasn't a real Airbender, he took solace in her innocence and purity.

A child's comfort was a beautiful thing, making his shriveled heart brighten—just for a moment.

XxXxXxXxXxX

"Anything new?" Zuko demanded sharply, trying but failing to not feel impacted by the somber mood permeating the room. For all he knew, it could permeate the entire Fire Nation.

But he doubted it—he knew there were many who were celebrating Aang's murder of Ba Sing Se, praising The Avatar when, once, they disparaged him and sought his death.

Upon hearing the news of Ba Sing Se's murder by Aang's hands, he knew it was true—he knew! It made too much sense with everything going on—because, of course, things had to get so much worse. And Aang's worrying change in disposition was certainly a factor, and Kuei's inflammatory rhetoric could only arouse such a murder.

The only good thing to come out of it was that Kuei would never bother him again. For that alone, Zuko would give Aang all the firewhiskey in the Fire Nation if his friend wanted it.

But all of Ba Sing Se murdered in, reportedly, a few minutes?

Zuko was raised on stories of The Avatar's power, had studied every legend about The Avatar he could find and comprehend during his Banishment, but nothing had prepared him for such a feat—because he never thought such a thing was possible, particularly in such an unthinkable short time. It seemed impossible, but the innocent, naïve boy he faced in the South all those years ago was capable of murdering Ba Sing Se.

He honestly couldn't remember why he was ever afraid before Sozin's Comet for Aang fighting Father.

And the rumors of the scarce number of survivors of Ba Sing Se's murder left him deeply worried for Aang's mental state, particularly since no one had seen him in two months. Zuko himself hadn't seen him since he left nine weeks ago, and he hoped it wouldn't be another nine weeks before he saw him.

Earth was hateful—understandably. And all of Earth, from the intelligence reports, chanted for war against The Avatar. Zuko marveled at such stupidity.

But he knew it was Vaatu who benefitted from everything.

There was so much chaos, and Zuko honestly couldn't discern how they would get through it, not now, not after such a monumental event. Because Aang needed allies to defeat Vaatu and Father, but Earth wouldn't ally with The Avatar, not after Ba Sing Se. And Zuko suspected that the North, because of Arnook's friendship to Kuei, wouldn't ally with The Avatar, either.

Ironically, the only ally of The Avatar would be Fire —unless Father seized the Dragon's Throne.

And that didn't even account for the disturbing information about the Fire Sages he had received. The news of the brutal murders of several prominent Fire Sages had been brought to him, and the rest of the Fire Sages had disappeared. It was ominous. Somehow, he knew it was all connected; it had to be. There weren't many coincidences of such a magnitude.

It looked like Fire was building an army to take back the Fire Nation for himself. The Fire Sages would provide Father with the spiritual authority to legitimize his re-ascension to the Dragon's Throne.

Uncle, who had called an immediate meeting, only nodded solemnly. "There is news," Uncle confirmed. "It is not good."

"I wasn't expecting it to be good," Zuko snapped, feeling like pulling out his hair; he knew that he was sooner than later going to resemble an Air Nomad of old with all the stress he had felt the past eight months—and for years prior to Kuei's decision to declare war on him.

Katara swallowed. "I was," she admitted quietly, looking defeated.

"Avatar Aang destroyed Ba Sing Se," Uncle notified, looking gaunt. "It has been confirmed."

"Are you sure?" Katara asked hopefully, face pale and voice shaking slightly. "It could just be a rumor. Kuei could have spread the rumor. Aang would never do that."

Uncle shook his head, eyes crinkling in sorrow. "I wish it was a rumor, Princess Katara. It is the truth. Avatar Aang destroyed Ba Sing Se and, conservatively, ended at least a million lives."

Zuko didn't feel surprised at the confirmation, only resigned. "And Kuei's dead?"

"Yes."

"Good," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "And when you say destroyed- "

Uncle's golden eyes were dim. "Ba Sing Se is gone; it was wiped from the earth in a few minutes. It is a cataclysm beyond imagination."

"It was The Avatar State," Sokka said suddenly, brows pinched, and his face was pale. "There's never been anything to suggest that he's capable of that kind of power and destruction in 'a few minutes' as Aang. And I think he did do that, Katara. Don't you remember him throwing me around the dining hall? He's different now; he's angrier. If he was angry and entered The Avatar State, that would be the result—and it looks like it was."

Katara squeezed her eyes, looking distraught. "But it can't be. Aang is good."

"Even good men are capable of destruction and death," Zuko's mother observed quietly. "And Avatar Aang is The Avatar, and his situation is unique, particularly in these unique times. King Kuei was obstinate and prideful—weak. I suspect peace was never a possibility because King Kuei never wanted peace, which left only one course of action."

Suki's face was tight. "But what could have caused him to do that? I know what The Avatar State is—Sokka and Katara told me—and it takes a lot to make Aang enter it, right?"

"A lot," Katara confirmed, shivering. "You don't want to be around when he's in The Avatar State. It's terrifying."

"Clearly," Sokka mumbled.

Suki nodded. "Then why did Aang go into The Avatar State? Was Dark there to trigger it?"

Zuko felt dread tighten in his chest. "No, Aang wouldn't lose control over that. He'd only lose control if someone he loved was hurt—or killed. And I know Kuei was bold—stupid—enough to kill."

"Probably not Toph, then," Sokka muttered.

Mother's face paled. "Azula."

He nodded, ignoring the queasy expressions on Katara, Sokka, and Suki's faces; he felt the rising horror inside him. "If Kuei killed Azula, Aang would kill him in turn—and so much else."

"She cannot be dead," Mother stressed, voice rising in panic. "No, Azula would not- "

"I doubt Princess Azula would die, least of all by King Kuei's hands," Uncle interrupted, voice thoughtful. "Princess Azula would not succumb to such a fate. Perhaps she was injured, but I doubt she was killed."

Sokka hesitated. "I mean, I know they're sleeping together- "

"They're not," Zuko corrected.

"Then why was Aang supporting her so much when he was here? The only answer that makes sense is that Azula's snatch is whispering in his ears!"

He sighed. "It's not. And he supported her because, somehow, they're friends. They're not having sex."

"But how do you know?"

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Because Azula would never shut up about it if they were."

Sokka gagged. "That's disgusting! I'd rip off my ears if Katara was talking about her sexy time!"

"I'm going to rip mine off if you keep talking about this," Katara snapped.

"Right," Sokka said. "But Azula couldn't mean that much to him that he'd enter The Avatar State. I mean, it's Azula! I mean, all her seduction couldn't ever make Aang so devoted to her that he'd go into The Avatar State when seeing her injured, right?"

Zuko thought of Aang and Azula's easy ability to speak to each other and wondered. "I don't know. But what I do know is that Azula wasn't killed. She's resourceful, clever, and cunning; she would never put herself in a position where she could be killed because it goes against her nature, and that's without going into the fact that she's hard to kill."

Katara's eyes closed in memory. "She is."

"She's not dead," he emphasized. "I refuse to believe. I'm not going to."

He couldn't believe it.

Suki hesitated. "Then who was hurt—or killed—that caused Aang to go into The Avatar State? Toph?"

Katara swallowed, shaking her head; her face was pale with realization. "Appa. In the Si Wong Desert, Appa was kidnapped, and we ran into the Sandbenders who stole him. Toph recognized their voices, and Aang snapped. He went into The Avatar State, and I think he was going to raise the entire desert and drop it on them—before throwing the mountain on them, too—if I didn't calm him down."

Zuko's face scrunched in pain; he dimly recalled the story of King Bumi almost assassinating Grandfather by throwing a mountain on him. "And now that he's older, and Mother wasn't there to calm him down, his anger was enough to murder Ba Sing Se."

"I knew I should have gone with him," Katara said, throwing her face in her hands in grief.

"It could be Azula," Uncle interrupted, glancing at Zuko's mother with sad eyes. "It could be Lady Toph, and it could be Appa. It could be any of them, but we do not know. All I know is that The Avatar fled what was once Ba Sing Se after it happened."

"On Appa?" Sokka asked.

"I don't know. He has been seen nowhere, and he has not appeared to explain himself; he has also not appeared to help restore Ba Sing Se."

"He'd probably be attacked if he showed up," Zuko pointed out quietly.

Silence.

Katara's eyes swam with tears, but none fell. "But where is he? He could be hurt- "

Sokka snorted, but he didn't look amused; he looked haunted. "He's not hurt. If he was able to do that, no one in the world could possibly hurt him. If Azula shot lightning at him now, I bet he'd just eat it like a snack or something."

"I meant emotionally."

"He's always been emotionally hurt, according to you."

"Because he has been! He is!"

Zuko rubbed his forehead. "He's at the Eastern Air Temple; he told me that was where he was going before he left. And, yes, I already wrote a letter to the Eastern Air Temple as soon as I heard about it. But I don't know if it got there; there's been no response."

Katara looked at him in disbelieving betrayal. "And you didn't try to change his mind? He could have come back here!"

"It is a wise decision on Avatar Aang's part, Princess Katara," Uncle interrupted. "If he returned here, the war would only get worse; it would be seen as The Avatar choosing Fire's side."

"Everyone already thinks The Avatar's chosen Fire's side by preventing our destruction," Zuko pointed out bitterly, still amazed by the blatant absurdity of so many people. "And I don't think anyone of Earth would take kindly to Aang staying in the Earth Kingdom. And the North would be horrified by his presence, probably thinking he'd do the same thing there."

"But he wouldn't!" Katara protested.

"How would they know?" Zuko challenged, raising his shoulders in a sad shrug. "All we know—all anyone knows—are rumors, but we know, somehow, the rumors are true. The best place for Aang to go is one of the Air Temples, and he chose the Eastern Air Temple beforehand. I don't see why he'd change his mind. He said he needed to speak with Pathik, whoever that is."

"The guru," Sokka supplied, nodding his head. "He helped Aang master The Avatar State."

Zuko sighed. "You sure about that?"

"Not after Ba Sing Se."

"But Ba Sing Se will be rebuilt," Mother cut in. "I suspect the Kings of Earth will fight for control over Kuei's former territories, for he left no heir; he was the last of Ba Sing Se's kingly line."

"My vote goes to King Bumi," he said immediately. "He's reasonable and strong, and he shows Fire grace. Zaofu and Chyung are ruled by weak men, beholden to their desires."

Uncle nodded. "Bumi is at the forefront of the Earth kings. I suspect he will become Ba Sing Se's king once its rebuilt or his grandson will—Prince Bor. Ultimately, it is best that Avatar Aang is away from the Fire Nation—and my niece, too. We must wait for Bumi or his grandson to fix the mess that Kuei started. The Avatar is not trusted by Earth, but Bumi is trusted more than anyone, for he is the Scourge of Fire, Earth's ultimate warrior during the Great War, and I believe such strength passed to his grandchildren."

"Bumi had kids?" Sokka exclaimed, shuddering in disgust. "That's gross!"

Suki rolled her eyes, raising an eyebrow towards her husband. "So, what we did last night was gross?"

Sokka's eyes widened, and his jaw dropped, panic visible on his face. "No, no, no!" He looked at Zuko's amused face, and Katara's disgusted one, and wildly waved his arms. "Sex isn't gross; it's awesome, especially with my wife!" He suddenly wrapped his arms around Suki. "I love you! I'd rather have sex with you than eat meat!"

"I'd rather not hear anymore," Katara interrupted, face twisting. "You said you wrote a letter, Zuko?"

"I did, but there's been no response."

"Write another one," Uncle advised, golden eyes. "It will take weeks to arrive for the war hawks, but it is worth it. The ladies Mai and Ty Lee tried to assassinate the Fire Lord, their former friend, and refuse to reveal what they know, even under threat of pain. I suspect Avatar Aang will know what to do."

Mother nodded adamantly, gazing at him expectantly. "Your uncle is right, Zuko."

Zuko sighed and rummaged through his desk until he pulled out parchment and a quill; he explained the situation—again—as best as he could to his friend. "Guards!" he called out once finished.

The door opened, and the Imperial Firebenders immediately strode in and kneeled before him. "Yes, my liege?" one asked.

He held out the letter. "Send this to the Eastern Air Temple immediately."

The Imperial Firebenders nodded. "Of course, my liege; we will see that it is done."

"Quickly," he stressed.

One took the letter and scurried out of the room, the other following, heads bowed the entire time.

"How did you do that?" Sokka demanded, staring at him in awe.

"Do what?" Zuko questioned with a frown, glancing at Uncle to see if he understood, but Uncle looked just as confused.

Sokka waved his arm to the door. "You scared the firebending out of them! How did you do that?"

"All the Children of Fire, benders and non-benders, including all nobles, even the Heads, must show the proper respect to their Fire Lord, Agni's anointed ruler over his children," Zuko explained, reciting the traditions learned as a child, a prince of Sozin's line. "Anything less than the utmost reverence is an affront to Agni himself, whose wrath shines through his chosen Fire Lord in punishing offenders."

Katara frowned. "Really? That's intense."

Zuko shrugged, not really caring. "It's tradition, and tradition produces honor, a set way of doing things in which order is possible; it connects us with those before who came before. The same men and women who show me reverence descend from men and women of generations past who did the same to my ancestors. It's all connected. It has a deep, ingrained purpose. Traditions are what make honor possible, and Fire needs honor; traditions are what make civilization possible, and Fire needs to be civilized. Thus, Fire needs tradition."

"Traditions can be corrupted," Suki pointed out, face curious.

"Anything can be corrupted," Uncle replied, voice drifting; he seemed lost in memories. "Fire adores Power, and we pursue Power, worshipping it. But in your pursuit for power, you lose yourself and descend into savagery, bereft of insight, wisdom, and connection. By having honor, you prevent yourself from descending into savagery, which Fire, I suspect, is more prone to do."

Sokka snorted. "I think that suspicion is more like a fact."

Zuko watched Mother nod in agreement. "There is a deep and profound intelligence permeating Tradition; it is an echo of the ancestors who conceived and struggled like we never have, refined over countless generations, closer to perfection than imperfection."

"By aligning with our traditions, we civilize ourselves, for these traditions were forged out of the horrors of war and slaughter before the Unification, and these traditions work," Uncle said quietly but intently. "They don't work perfectly, for nothing works perfectly and nothing will ever work perfectly, but they work better than anything else. No element is like the other; no nation is like the other. Fire needs Tradition just as Water needs Family, Earth needs History, and Air needs Freedom."

Katara blinked. "I never thought of Fire that way."

"Why would you?" Zuko asked. "Fire was the enemy, and that's all Fire could be in your perception. You couldn't look deeper, for if you looked deeper, you'd question things—and, take it from me, it's very painful to question things during war."

"But everyone questions The Avatar during this new war," Suki pointed out, face twisting in sorrow. "And now especially after Ba Sing Se."

"Over a million people—gone," Katara whispered, voice shaken. "How does that happen? What does it mean?"

Sokka closed his eyes, still looking stunned. "And Aang did it."

Katara's blue eyes burst. "It wasn't Aang! It was The Avatar State!"

Zuko opened his mouth, but Mother beat him to it: "I descend from an Avatar, and that may be simplistic, Katara."

"How?" she demanded, disbelieving.

Mother sighed. "I never knew my grandfather; I was born over seventy years after his death. But my mother remembered him."

Sokka's eyes widened. "Your mom was ancient!"

"Sokka!" Katara snapped, scandalized.

Mother only laughed. "She was a powerful Firebender, sired by The Avatar. She lived a long time, and she died when she was over a century old. Her death is why I came to the Caldera; there was nothing for me, so I enrolled myself in the Academy, which is how I met Fire Lord Azulon and then Ozai. But my mother told me about her father—minimally, of course. The Avatar is not someone we can ever comprehend, not truly. His identity is complex and renowned. Yes, it was The Avatar State, Katara, but in The Avatar State is Aang; he is not powerless, according to my understanding. In fact, he is more powerful than ever in The Avatar State, and he unites with all that he ever was. He was enraged for whatever reason, facilitated clearly by King Kuei's madness and absurdity, but he acted, and Death brimmed over. It was The Avatar's judgment, yes, but it was also Aang's. Aang did commit the slaughter; he is responsible."

Uncle nodded. "Something crucial is forgotten always about The Avatar. He is Aang in body, but in spirit, he is transcendent, a primordial force. He is Avatar Roku; he is Avatar Kyoshi; he is Avatar Kuruk; he is Avatar Yangchen; he is Avatar Jinzhai; he is Avatar Boruk; he is Avatar Keska; and he is all previous Avatars since the First. And he has killed in all his lifetimes. Avatar Aang annihilated the Fire Navy in the North during the Great War, and, at least, over 500,000 men of Fire died because of that annihilation—it was probably closer to 750,000 men. There is blood on his hands, and he added to it with Ba Sing Se's murder."

Katara put her face in her hands. "He must be so devastated. I can't imagine. Can't we do something? Maybe we should try to go to the Eastern Air Temple and help him."

Zuko shook his head. "No, that's not a good idea. We need to be prepared for Earth to potentially attack us and possibly the North. I don't know why Arnook never joined Kuei in fighting me, but now that Kuei's dead, Arnook may decide to 'honor' his friend and declare war. And I don't know about my father and Dark. We have to prepare ourselves and just wait and see. We don't know enough about Dark. That's why Aang was going to meet Pathik in the first place—to see if Pathik could tell him anything about Dark. I hate it, too, but we can't do anything right now until we know more. If we act rashly, we could doom ourselves before we even get anywhere."

"Zuko is right," Uncle declared, looking like the Dragon of the West, imposing and daunting. "Avatar Aang is the only one who can help us, but we must wait for him. It is the tactically-sound strategy while we prepare ourselves for a potential invasion, either by Earth or my brother—perhaps both."

Sokka grinned, looking proud of himself. "Well, at least Aang's good at making people wait." He studied everyone's unamused faces, and his own face fell. "Get it?"

Katara smiled thinly, and her jaw was tight. "Yes, we get it, but it's a stupid joke. And you already told it when we arrived."

"Come on! I thought it was good enough to repeat—because Aang was gone for a century. I bet Toph would laugh at it!"

"She'd laugh at you," Katara snapped in disgust.

Mother shook her head. "It was a poor joke, Prince Sokka, but it could be a good one in many decades—if luck is on your side."

Sokka looked hopeful. "So, I'm ahead of my time?"

"Something like that, Sokka," Suki said and patted her husband's hand, and he looked pleased.

One of the Imperial Firebenders knocked on the door, voice drifting through: "My liege, when we went to send your letter to the Eastern Air Temple, there was a war hawk waiting with a letter from King Bumi, addressed to Prince Iroh."

Zuko looked at Uncle, who only sighed. "No doubt notifying me of Earth's fury after Ba Sing Se's murder."

"Bring the letter to me," Zuko called out, unable to quell his bad feeling about the message.

The guard swiftly entered, head bowed to the floor, and held out the message. "My liege."

He stood to his feet and grabbed the scroll from the guard. "Dismissed." He dimly noticed that the guard then exited just as quickly as he had entered, but he was busy pulling the message out of its container.

Seeming to sense his tension, Katara scooted closer to his desk and asked: "What does the message say, Zuko?"

Uncle put down his cup of tea, patiently studying him. "Read it aloud, Nephew."

Zuko ignored Uncle's order as he unfurled the parchment and read its details, lips parting in horror the more he read. How could this have happened? He looked toward Uncle, who remained unaware, and he knew that it would be he and not King Bumi who was the messenger of bad news. Slowly, warily, he held out the scroll to Uncle, almost wishing that Uncle would refuse to look at it. But, instead, just as he had known that he would, Uncle took the offering without hesitation and scrutinized the writing. Zuko watched as Uncle didn't seem to react physically, eyes unblinking and no breaths puffed from his lips; he was frozen in his seat.

"Uncle?" he asked cautiously.

Uncle suddenly collapsed on the couch, falling to his side, eyes glazed, looking much older than he actually was. "No," he whispered, face agonized. "It can't be."

Zuko quickly sat next to Uncle, trying to console him. "All of them can't be gone."

"Who's gone?" Sokka demanded, looking anxious and worried. "What the fuck does the message say?"

He knew Uncle was in no mental state to reveal the message's contents, so he plucked the parchment from Uncle's limp hand and cleared his throat, thankful he already read it; he wouldn't be too shocked to get through it. "This isn't good news. Be prepared, and don't interrupt me. It says:

My friend, Prince Iroh, the Dragon of the West and Grandmaster of Fire,

We're being fucked—like the way you fuck a whore and not your wife. I don't know how to say it. I've written several letters trying to explain it all, but none were good, and I wiped my ass with them, instead. May have made things worse down there, probably. I'm not the man I once was, not even the man I was a decade ago. The Butcher not only took my children from me but my mobility and health. If you've heard anything about the Butcher, please let me know. I'm still searching for him, of course, but I haven't had much time lately because there's been so much going on—and none of it's been good.

It's horrible, and I still can't believe it, but it's clear—someone's targeting us. The Order has been decimated from what I can figure out. So many haven't been answering my messages, and one of my Masters reported that he found so many corpses of our members, whose bodies are violated and some are somehow bereft of bending energy, which, as you know, still endures faintly after death. But I haven't heard from him since, and I think we both know what that means—he's joined the others in Death. There's nothing like this in the Order's chronicled history. We're being slaughtered, and I don't know how many of us are left. I know me, you, and Pakku for certain. But I've received replies from no one else. If this letter reaches you, we know that Jeong Jeong is alive because he was messenger.

But this means that the Sages are dead and all the Masters, too (except Jeong Jeong if this reached you). It means we may be all that is left. There's something coming, Iroh. Can't you feel it? It's in the air like a stench—but for so many, it seems like it's an aroma, something intoxicating. I know you heard about Aang's slaughter of Ba Sing Se—it's chaos here on the continent. I can barely keep things together, and I can barely figure out what's going on. So much communication has been broken, and those who answer give me contradictions. From what I know, Chyung and Zaofu are chanting for The Avatar's death while the territories and provinces stretching from coast to coast are horrified and terrified, praying for a miracle to murder The Avatar. Millions are dead, Iroh, and I fear that millions more will die. Something's happening; something's festering. But it's different from the Great War. I knew the Great War better than anyone alive, and it's different now. There's an intensity in the air, like something buzzing against your skin, that wasn't there decades ago.

I was never scared during the Great War; I was hateful. But now I feel fear, and I feel more sympathy now for those I once scorned than I did so long ago. Why is this happening? What is going on? I've searched through the records available to me in the Order, and I've found only more questions—no answers. And Aang is nowhere to be found. To be able to hunt us down like this requires incredible power, and I can't think of anyone in the world who could do it, especially so secretly, picking us off one by one, unable to warn the others. I'm afraid this may be the work of a spirit. But what spirit can enter the Mortal Realm for so long? What spirit doesn't need the Solstice to cross over?

I thought things would be better, Iroh, but I'm not sure things can be better anymore. Too much keeps happening, and people are too bitter and estranged—something I know all-too-well. There is too much hate in the world, but I can't get rid of my hate. It's too familiar; it's a comfort; it's like a friend, a wife that will never stray. I know you understand. That buzzing feeling in the air, it's like hatred but more—it's a frenzy, a hysteria that clouds your senses. I can feel it, and it's terrifying because it's unlike anything I've seen in my long life. Everything is unknown and unexplained. There was order before during the Great War, but now there's only chaos, and I know weak men are to blame, men like Gulon before I removed him and made his throne mine.

How did we let this happen? We couldn't keep the peace. We weren't vigilant, were we? We were too trusting. But no one trusts now, and I don't think peace is possible; we've reached a point of no return, and we will either die together or separately. The Enemy is powerful and intelligent; he's someone we weren't aware of, and he's capitalizing on it, using the distrust of the world against us. And now, no one trusts The Avatar because Aang did something unforgivable in fucking Ba Sing Se more than I ever fucked Fire. And the hatred is everywhere. I don't think there's anyone on the Continent besides me and my family that like, nonetheless trust, The Avatar.

But we need Aang to help with this Enemy that I can't see, and we need recruits. Please reply, Iroh. I've lost too many friends and loved ones to violent deaths in my life. I don't know what I would do if I heard that you were killed like all the others. I'm not sure how much more that I can handle this crisis without your help. Please respond.

Your friend, King Bumi of Omashu, the Fucker of Fire and Grandmaster of Earth."

Everyone stared at him in horrified shock, and Zuko looked worriedly at Uncle, not knowing how such news would affect him.

"Fuck, this is bad," Sokka muttered, running a hand over his face. "We need to do something. What do we do?"

Katara looked more frantic. "It's Dark, isn't it?"

"The who is Dark, yes," Suki answered, voice soft but determined. "I don't know the how, where, and when, but the why has to be because the Order is very powerful; it's likely the world's most powerful organization because, to my knowledge, many of the world's strongest claim allegiance to it."

Uncle nodded tiredly, golden eyes misty with grief. "Yes, that is correct, Princess Suki. Dark must be seeking to weaken socially The Avatar's power structure because the Order is The Avatar's organization, loyal to him, his personal army. But I don't understand how we were slaughtered off so easily. We are—were—powerful, able to withstand the brunt of the Great War for a century. But now, within months, we are slaughtered. I don't understand. It should not be possible."

Zuko closed his eyes. "Because it's Dark. This is different somehow. It's not like it was; this is new, something no one's faced in over nine-thousand years. No one was prepared for Dark, not even Aang. And everyone's paying the price."

"Do you think Dark's the one who actually murdered Ba Sing Se?" Katara asked, face hopeful.

"Even if it was, which I doubt, Aang will still be blamed for it forever," Zuko replied, shaking his head. "No one knows Dark, and I doubt anyone could understand him—but I doubt people want to understand. They want their hatred now; they don't want it in the future. And Aang is there. Because everyone knows The Avatar, and everyone already hates The Avatar because he refuses vengeance against Fire. And now everyone hates him more. People don't want to change the source of their hatred; they like to keep it who or what it's directed at. Aang already had their hatred, and now he has it potentially forever."

Katara looked heartbroken. "How did everything go so wrong?"

"The very question Bumi asked," Uncle murmured, face agonized. "I cannot answer that, Princess Katara, and I am unsure Avatar Aang can, either."

"What was the part about bodies being found without bending energy?" Sokka asked, brows furrowed, face pained. "What does it mean?"

"That struck my ear, as well," Mother added, mournful but curious.

"I cannot say," Uncle answered, looking exhausted. "Even after death, a bender's body retains its bending energy; it is clear to sense if you know what to look for."

"It's like an echo, something faint and distant," Zuko explained, hoping to alleviate Uncle's burden. "I think it's like what Aang was talking about with my father when explaining bending and how my father could regain his bending. The connection has to exist on both sides; both sides must be primed for it. The energies of the elements are always there for us to connect with; they're connected to all of us, bender or non-bender. But it depends on our body for the connection to solidify. But in death for a bender, the body is still open for the connection, searching for it, leaving that hint of energy that you can sense, while the energies of the elements are no longer connected—because it knows, somehow, that you're dead."

Sokka hesitated. "But how could that energy be gone after death for a bender if it's supposed to be there, if it's natural for it to be there?"

"Dark is doing it," Katara said, blue eyes urgent. "But how is he doing it?"

Zuko sighed. "Only Aang can answer this. But it's all connected somehow. Too much is happening for it to be coincidental. At this point, you'd have to be very unintelligent and dishonest to think it is coincidental."

"Perhaps it is the Fire Sages attacking us," Uncle murmured, voice drifting. "Only a few were found killed, and the rest have vanished. Only a group could hunt the Order to near extinction, and the Fire Sages are a very powerful group."

Sokka's eyes widened in shock. "Wait, what? The Fire Sages are gone?"

"Yes," he replied, glancing at Uncle. "It couldn't be the Fire Sages, Uncle; they've been missing for six weeks, and King Bumi had to have written that letter at least a month ago. It's an inconsistent timeline because it would take a long time to hunt down the Order, and the Fire Sages only defected six weeks ago, whereas the Order's been hunted for months, it sounds like."

"And Bumi said Jeong Jeong was supposed to be the messenger," Katara pointed out, eyes widening. "But where's Jeong Jeong?"

Uncle's eyes closed. "Dead. The guard said the message was in a war hawk, and Jeong Jeong hated war hawks; he thought they were a vile abuse of the natural order. He would have delivered this message on foot."

"But how'd we get the message if he's dead?" Sokka demanded, leaning forward. "That doesn't make sense. Who sent the war hawk?"

Zuko saw Mother tense slightly, face tightening. "Only my husband possesses both the temerity and guile to do such a thing."

A wave of horror overwhelmed him as things began to make more sense. "He must have his firebending back," Zuko hissed, breathing increasing. "Only someone powerful could hunt down the Order, and who's more powerful than my father with his bending except for Aang? Father's hunting the Order; he must be. He's the only one who makes sense."

Uncle sat silently for several moments. "You may be right, Zuko, but that theory relies on the assumption that Ozai has regained his firebending. I still think the Fire Sages are more likely; they could have publicly betrayed us six weeks ago, but they privately betrayed us months ago and likely were doing nefarious deeds."

Katara gripped her forearms tightly. "The Fire Sages betrayed you?"

Zuko nodded slowly. "Yes. And I didn't tell you because I didn't want to cause a panic."

"Too late," Sokka muttered, leaning back in his seat, weariness on his face. "A lot is happening all at once."

"Too much is happening," he correctly softly. "Six weeks, the Fire Sages who reside in the Caldera didn't report to me in the throne room for the daily blessing to Agni. I quickly sent guards to decipher their tardiness, and they returned with nothing except to report the death of one of the sages, whose body was found desecrated. I was horrified, and the horror only grew as messages soon came within the next week that detailed the disappearance of the Fire Sages at all of the Fire Nation Avatar Temples, with several bodies found just as desecrated, as well."

Suki frowned, looking incredulous. "There are multiple Avatar Temples?"

Sokka blinked rapidly. "I thought the only one was Roku's temple, which was destroyed by Roku himself!"

"Not anymore," Zuko's mother interrupted, sitting taller; she gazed at him with pride. "Zuko commissioned the reconstruction of my grandfather's temple after his ascension to the Dragon's Throne."

"And it looks divine—as it should," he added. "He deserves the honor."

"All Avatars do," Uncle said, smiling slightly, and Zuko was relieved that Uncle could force a smile. "But some are much less deserving than others."

Mother nodded knowingly. "Kuruk."

Zuko didn't want to think how Aang, because of his murder of Ba Sing Se, was now less deserving of the honor. Based on the sick, nauseated look on Katara's face, she was thinking about it.

Uncle nodded in return. "Yes. There is more than one temple dedicated to The Avatar; there are multiple Avatar Temples in each nation, one for each Avatar recorded in history. Unfortunately, the tradition was not always honored, and it was not conceived until thousands of years into The Avatar Cycle. Some names are lost to the sands of time. If Avatar Aang wished, he could remember each of the names forgotten, and we could build a temple for each, but I find it unlikely he would do such a thing."

"Where are the Avatar Temples?" Sokka asked, leaning forward, interest carved in his face. "I mean, we've been everywhere! Where are the temples? We should have seen them at some point, right?"

"The temples are separated from the main cities, towns, kingdoms, and tribes in each nation; simply, the temples are completely isolated. The Water Tribe Avatar Temples, in both the North and South, are located in unknown places. And while Grandmaster Pakku and the Water Sages all know of their locations, the Chiefs of the Tribes do not."

Sokka looked baffled. "What? A chief must know what's in his borders. I need to know where the temples are."

"You must speak with Avatar Aang because it was Avatar Kuruk himself who ordered the secrecy for the Water Tribes, forbidding that the Chiefs and their families have such sacred knowledge; only another Avatar can disregard a command of a previous Avatar. The Earth Kingdom Avatar Temples are built deep into the earth and impossible for Master Earthbenders to find, unless they already know the location; Grandmaster King Bumi and the Earth Sages know of their locations, but none of the other Earth kings do. The Fire Nation Avatar Temples are always erected on volcanos, accessible to a very limited few, and their locations are only known by the Fire royal family and the Fire Sages, along with the Grandmaster of Fire. The Air Nomads, may they rest in peace, were the only ones who chose not to assemble a temple dedicated to all the Air Avatars. Instead, incredibly beautiful statues were built in their honor and placed in a public place where all Airbenders could view as they pleased. The statues were placed in the Air Temple in which the Air Avatar was born. Only The Avatar knows where every single Avatar Temple is located, no matter the nation."

"And they're all like Roku's temple?"

"Yes."

"And the Fire Sages were all found dead in the Fire Avatar temples, including Roku's, or nowhere to be found?"

"Yes."

Zuko stood up and crossed to the high arc of the window. Sunlight streamed through, bathing his body in warmth. "The Fire Sages have betrayed The Avatar—again. Maybe the Water Sages and Earth Sages have, too."

Katara looked miserable. "The Earth Sages certainly have since all of Earth hates Aang now."

"The Fire Sages have allied themselves with Dark. Those who refused were killed, leaving a gruesome and desecrated corpse to inspire fear."

"It's brilliant," Suki observed. "Dark is attacking Aang's allies and political and social power structure."

Uncle leaned back, looking worn as he slumped against the couch; he appeared much older than his sixty years of age, looking eerily similar to how Zuko had always imagined Sozin near his death. "I have no idea what to do about this until Avatar Aang returns. I need to consider this horror more."

Katara looked around, incredulous and desperate. "So, we just wait? Dark is gathering power by the moment, literally, and we're just going to wait for Aang to contact us?"

Mother smiled sadly. "We cannot react to this, Princess Katara; we must act. But to act, we need time to ruminate and consider, let the shock of this horror dissipate into motivation."

Sokka took Suki's hand and stood up. "I always think better while eating. Suki and I are going to the dining hall."

Uncle tried to stand up, and Zuko helped him to his feet. "Excellent strategy, Prince Sokka. The comfort of food may, indeed, reprieve my mind of this tragedy. Not to mention tea."

Mother stood up, as well, and grabbed Uncle's arm, hooking her own through his. "I share that yearning."

Zuko watched as they left his study, leaving him alone with Katara, and unlike the other times he was left alone with her, he didn't resent it.

He was slipping.

"You must think that I'm naive," she said after several moments, looking quite vulnerable, arms wrapped around her stomach.

He studied her before taking out the Fire Crown and placing it on his desk; he ran a tired hand through his hair before shaking his head. "You have an inherent optimism that I don't have, and after everything you've experienced, I'm amazed that you have it; I admire it.

Katara nodded, smiling slightly. "But you disagree."

Zuko almost laughed. "Because if I agreed, I'd be dead—many times over. Life has taught me that thinking with your heart before your head is excessively dangerous. Maybe it's the different lives we live—I don't know. I was raised in Fire's court with all the political intrigue and threats, which culminated in my cousin and grandfather's assassinations; I was banished as a child to hunt the most powerful man across the Realms, which I knew always, deep down, was more dangerous than anything, which, likely, would only result in my death. I thought with my heart a lot, but Uncle tempered that. If I didn't have Uncle, I would have died painfully and violently. If I didn't learn to ignore my heart, I would have killed a lot more people than I did. The heart is a good thing; it's an amazing thing. But I'm not sure it's the best thing. I think the only way the heart is good is by looking at it with the mind."

"And I was raised in the South, isolated, able to use my heart," Katara said, looking down at her hands, which grazed the fabric over her knees. "Ever after my mom died, I always used my heart. Using my heart is why I broke Aang out of that iceberg."

"Which was a good thing," he observed. "But I don't think the heart knows what's good and what's bad. You have to use your mind to determine when something, like breaking Aang out of that iceberg, is good and when something is bad. For what it's worth, I think you're pretty good and determining what's good and what's not."

Katara glanced up at him, across his desk, and her blue eyes were mesmerizing; he didn't resent that fact as much as he once did. "Azula almost killed you because I was thinking with my heart."

Zuko sighed, remembering those moments—the sudden consuming terror when he saw his sister's gaze shift to his side, directed at who could only be Katara, the only one in the vicinity who had the audacity and absurdity to intervene in an Agni Kai between two of Sozin's heirs. And he reacted on instinct, catching lightning in his heart, which produced pain similar to Father's flaming hand cradling his face.

"That's true," Zuko acknowledged, watching her flinch, "but it was your heart that probably saved my life. If you just used your mind, you would have determined that I was gone, dead, unable to be healed, nonetheless saved. But I don't think you're naïve, Katara; I think you have a great capacity to trust. Aang was always naïve, not you, and he's no longer naïve, which, if anything, is what you're naïve about."

Katara swallowed, averting her gaze. "Then I am naïve."

"I think it's Aang. You love him—or love the boy he was—and can't comprehend the man he is now, who is capable of murdering Ba Sing Se and all its inhabitants." Zuko leaned forward, face somber. "Because it was him, Katara. I know it was, and I'm damn sure Aang knows, deep down, it was him, too. The Avatar State is an excuse, and you can't blame it forever."

"I wish I could—because then Boy Aang is still here, not Man Aang."

Zuko sighed and recalled those earlier years. "I miss that Aang, too; I think Aang misses that Aang. But none of us are the same, least of all him. And we can't go back to what was, which, as Aang claims, may certainly be better, but we can work to mimic that beautiful past."

Something haunted echoed in her abrupt laughter. "I don't think the future's going to be beautiful any time soon."

"No, it won't be. Until Air returns, there will always be imbalance and hatred."

Katara scrubbed her face briefly in frustration. "I'm probably going to have more nightmares."

"I'm probably going to have more assassins trying to assassinate me," he said, leaning back. "But now it won't be from Kuei. It will be from Zaofu and Chyung and probably from the North. When they realize The Avatar is an impossible target, they'll realize I'm much more possible."

"I won't let that happen," she said quickly, shaking her head. "I'll be here to help you this time."

Zuko stared at her for several moments. "Why?"

Katara blinked, surprised. "Because you're my friend."

"You expect me to want you around?" he challenged.

"I expect you to use your mind and realize you need me around," she replied, and he felt his lips curl slightly. "I saved you from Mai and Ty Lee, two assassins. I'll help with anymore assassins. We can balance each other out. You use your mind more and have trouble using your heart, and I'm the opposite. We were always a good team, weren't we?"

"When we weren't trying to kill each other."

Katara hesitated. "But you never tried to kill me, did you? When we fought, I always tried to hurt you; I tried to… kill you. But that wasn't what you did. You only ever tried to make me submit and yield." She swallowed, and his eyes were drawn briefly to her throat, which carried her mother's necklace and not the disgrace that was Kuei's former necklace. "I fought you with rage and hatred, but you only ever fought me with desperation. If you fought me like I fought you, you would have killed me."

Zuko looked away from her, head tilting back; he felt weary remembering those times. "You weren't my enemy," he replied simply. "I never thought you were."

"It didn't seem like it at the time," she whispered.

"You were a hindrance, an obstruction in my way. I never wanted you dead. Of course, it would have been a lot easier if you were dead, but I never wanted it. I guess I didn't want to make my life easier by killing you. I always had the most trouble making my life easier—I guess I still do."

Katara's eyes were soft and guilty when he looked back at her. "Because I wasn't your enemy."

"Zhao was my enemy," Zuko recalled. "Not even The Avatar was my enemy; he was my purpose and goal. I never wanted Aang dead; I wanted—needed —him alive. It's why I rescued him from Zhao."

"And because Zhao was your enemy."

He shrugged in admittance. "Yes. It felt really good to sabotage that mound of dragon's shit like all the times he sabotaged me."

"Thank you for saving Aang," Katara said, face grateful. "You saved his life and our lives. We were sick- "

"I know," he cut in. "Aang told me about it. You had to suck on frogs."

Katara's face spasmed. "Don't remind me. But will you let me stay and help you?"

Zuko stared at her for several moments, looking for the rage and resentment, but he felt only hollow and tired. "If you're going to be helpful."

"I promise to be."

"Which is more than most others could ever say," he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. "It's obvious, isn't?"

"What's obvious?"

"That we're not who we should be," Zuko said softly. "Things should have gone differently; things should be better than what they are. I once thought balance was possible. Now I don't know anymore. The world wants imbalance; it desires it. And if it desires it, it won't accept balance, not now; it must have its 'fill' of imbalance because balance isn't seen as acceptable or tolerable. Imbalance is what people want, and to get to balance, there must be more imbalance until things naturally right—balance—themselves out. But how much more imbalance must there be until balance is deemed acceptable and tolerable?"

Katara looked hopeless, face twisting in angry despair. "Why can't people just accept that balance is a good thing?"

Zuko shrugged. "Maybe no one knows what balance is like and fears the unknown, having lived in only a world of imbalance. The imbalance is familiar to them; it's comfortable; it's safe, no matter how wrong and unnatural and absurd. And Aang can try to explain what balance is, but no one's going to want it because no one's going to believe The Avatar, least of all now. Too much has happened. My mother said that Sozin broke a trust that will take decades to rebuild, and Fire has paid the price because of it; I've paid the price. But now Aang has broken a trust that will take a long time to rebuild—and that's on top of being absent for a century. No one trusts, and with good reason. But it can't stay that way. Eventually, people will trust again. It's the natural order."

"You're a lot calmer about this than I thought you'd be."

"I'm drunk."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

Zuko smiled. "No. But I could use a drink of firewhiskey."

Katara laughed. "Just be drunk on your honor like you used to be."

"And you on your tearbending."

She gasped. "Take that back!"

"Once a tear is shed, it can't be taken back."

Katara smiled, despite herself. "But you're not crying."

Zuko rolled his eyes. "Because you've been so gracious as not to use your tearbending on me, Princess Katara."

"It would not bode well for the Fire Lord's reputation if he was found crying. I must think of the political ramifications of my actions."

"Exactly."

Katara faltered. "Do you think Aang's aware of the ramifications of his actions?"

Zuko sighed. "Probably more than we know."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Azula sat on the ledge, one leg dangling off, one leg pulled into her chest as she marveled, staring down the mountain, amazed at the sublimity; the world, from the heavens to the earth, seemed to open before her, framed solely by her perception. It was incredible and humbling. It was unlike anything she had experienced. When she led her assault against the Western Air Temple all those years ago, her vision was unbearably narrow, confined so tightly all she saw was Zuko and the other enemies—but mostly Zuko. She had missed the beauty and awe, the wonders that revealed a deeply and highly intelligent race that looked elsewhere—perhaps inward—for answers.

During the two months Aang remained unconscious after Ba Sing Se, she spent as much time exploring and learning. The library was more impressive than the Dragon Bone Catacombs, and she knew it was only one of Air's libraries; there were three others, each as marvelous and impactful as the Eastern, stretching back with knowledge and events thousands and thousands of years ago, since the moment Avatar Kirku, either the seventh or eleventh Avatar based on her calculations, constructed the Air Temples. She stared at the statues, art, and frescoes, the intelligent designs everywhere she looked, and she felt humbled.

A towering civilization once thrived in the Air Temples; a towering civilization once possessed majesty and understanding; a towering civilization once went their own way admirably, choosing to live in the mountains, atop which rested the grand Air Temples, not confining themselves like Water, Earth, and Fire; a towering civilization once existed, survived, adapted, and lived, pursuing something greater than the conventional, epitomized by their wisdom that endured still.

But that civilization was no more because of her lineage, which made her nomination for Mother of Air both more enticing and tragic. On the one hand, she could redeem her lineage of such a grotesque stain on its honor, which had deprived the world of the genius of Air, and she could actively, fundamentally aid in Air's rebirth. But on the other hand, she began to realize how presumptuous her nomination was, how flagrantly impudent. She thought her nomination was open-minded, logical and prudent; she thought it was perfect. But perhaps she was being close-minded, failing to consider all angles of perception and understanding.

There was a tremendous, breathless awe that she felt when gazing at the miracles of Air, but there was a weight, a burden reminding her of the blood in her veins. Often, she visualized Sozin as he was 109 years ago, powerful and relentless, severe and ruthless, scouring the halls and desecrating the marvelous works, maiming beauty to eradicate an entire civilization, sparing no one. And her conceptions left her somber, nearly shaken, for she knew she could have once done the same; she could have replicated the attack, closing herself off from all the men, women, and child she would have slaughtered.

But Aang knew; he saw what she failed to. He referenced the blood in her veins, citing it as a reason why he didn't agree with her nomination. He doubted her ability to align with Air, not believing she was authentic in her yearning.

It was understandable but false, for she was beginning to understand that there was wisdom in looking elsewhere—even inward—for answers, like Air encouraged. After all, her refusal to look elsewhere and inward for answers led to her mind breaking, consumed by Sozin's indoctrination, facilitated by Father's impossible expectations and pressure.

And Sozin's indoctrination—Fire's supremacy—could not be right nor true based on the happenings in the world, which teetered with chaos and imbalance. Sozin's pursuit, as taught from his indoctrination, was for order and civilization, but, ironically, his conquest only endorsed the reversal, provoking the instincts for chaos and war—and the chaos and war endured still, for Fire was not supreme, like Father, Grandfather, and Sozin thought.

If Fire were supreme, they could have ended the Great War swiftly, but they could not; they failed to do so. Yes, they were going to win until Aang intervened and stopped Father, but that took a century of exhaustion and fighting to reach that point. And that did not denote supremacy nor civilization; it revealed more a battle of attrition, something honor-less, savage, and subtle rather than glorious and civilizing. Ironically, Sozin's conquest was not honorable due to his cheating in advance, his extensive preparations for years until he deprived the world of Air and provoked the Great War.

Looking back with a clear gaze and understanding, Azula understood that the Great War revealed only the impossibility of supremacy of one nation, for it was impossible, especially with The Avatar, which Sozin, Grandfather, and Father recognized. But what none of them realized—although she wondered if Grandfather was in the process of realizing before Mother assassinated him, considering she suspected that he looked for ways to diplomatically end the Great War, embodied by his offer to betroth Zuko to Princess Yue in the North before the North sneered at the proposal—is that supremacy was always going to be impossible, even without The Avatar, for Water and Earth would never surrender; there would never be ultimate supremacy in which resistant is feeble, ineffectual, and impossible. And even if Fire won temporarily, the victory could not last, even if Father conceived every ingress against him and made preparations to ward off assaults, to maintain Fire's victory.

But there was no eternal victory, as history revealed, as the ancestors revealed.

There would always be something, a consequence unforeseen that changes everything, producing rebellion, which leads to conflict, which leads to war, and a people who fail to understand for what they fight and why they fight, if they lack adequate motivation, lose always. Earth and Water would have sufficient, lasting, healthy motivation, but Fire would not. Azula was once the foremost recipient of Sozin's indoctrination, and that was why fought as she did; that was her motivation. But it was not enough—for her mind broke. Fire would only know Sozin's indoctrination. But Sozin's indoctrination would not be enough, and it was not enough, for Sozin's indoctrination could not account for the problems faced in the Great War for a century, least of all for The Avatar's return, and if The Avatar never returned, Sozin's indoctrination would still not be enough.

Water would have family, and Earth would have history, but Fire would no longer have tradition, for Sozin, ironically, marred Fire's traditions in his pursuit, reverting Fire back to their savage natures before the Unification, propagated by Kai, who saw the endless wars and conflict as weakness, a symptom of an unstable, honor-less race. Fire could never last, for, as Pathik pointed out to her with a gleam in his ancient eyes, Fire itself relied on another source for its survival—Air. Without Air, Fire could not burn. But Pathik explained further that all the elements are connected fundamentally and cannot survive with the others, each drawing strength and meaning from each other, embodied by The Avatar, the ultimate power and authority in Life.

Except for the Great Tree that Pathik also mentioned, for, apparently, The Avatar was beholden to the Great Tree.

Since her escape to Ember Island, where she met Aang, she was beginning to understand that there was more to the world; there were inherent cycles, such as the four seasons, connected intimately to the Four Nations, fueled cosmically by the stars, to which Air must have looked in their pursuit of Heaven. But Aang understood the cycles, for he was both of Air and The Avatar. And Azula was beginning to understand the cycles, for her time in the Eastern Air Temple refined her understanding—and it was excellent and delicious.

It made her realize that Fire's victory was always going to be a pyrrhic victory, which her own memories attested to. Fire had their season, but it would only be a season, not forever.

She participated in the Great War, but not directly; she was not in battle, not truly. She was on a mission directly from Father to hunt The Avatar, which meant little possibility of death once she understood that The Avatar would never kill her. But before her hunt, she had felt the sense of dreadful, gripping fear. Of course, there was the delight of the challenge, but the fear existed—for she read the reports from the dozen survivors of The Avatar's destruction of the Fire Navy in the North; she read how the waves reached the sky and slammed against the navy with pressure unimaginable, ripping soldiers apart, limbs flying in every direction and sinking to the bottom of the endless deep in the main; she read how the waves pulled the countless ships under, swallowing them, and all the inhabitants, whole, never to be seen again.

All commanded by The Avatar.

She had good reason to fear until she realized The Avatar would never kill her—but there would always be others who would kill her. However, the chance was never realized because she never truly participated in the Great War.

Whenever Azula visited outposts during the Great War, she saw the wounds sustained and thought nothing of it in the moment, thinking only of herself, distant to anything that did not impact her. How immature she once was; how weak and susceptible. But she always remembered her fate should she fail. Either Father would maim her face, depriving her of her beauty, for disappointing him, or Earth would capture her, undoubtedly rape her, passing her amongst all the soldiers who would brutalize her until the darkness in their hearts was satisfied—never—and try to ransom her back to Father in return for an outrageous, unthinkable sum. But when they realized Father would never concede to their demands, ashamed that his daughter was so weak and pathetic to get caught by the savages of Earth, they would execute her slowly and painfully, parading her corpse across the Earth Kingdom as a symbol of triumph; they would keep her skeleton as a reminder of Earth's victory against Fire.

It was a fate she dreaded and avoided, doing whatever necessary to ensure it never befell her—which meant committing atrocities, never hesitating nor wavering, reflecting Father in all facets and areas.

But what made such a fate more than possible was Fire. If she were 'of Air' like Aang was, the likelihood of such a fate diminished significantly, in her estimation. She knew the stories; she heard them more often than she liked during the Great War, whispered by palace servants who knew a fellow servant who worked for one of the noble families and said that the Head's daughter or niece returned from action beaten and weak, ashamed and humiliated, raped by the savages of Earth. The servants would whisper that Fire's women soldiers were targeted specifically to wound Fire because Earth thought Fire deserved it, a recompense for Sozin's conquest.

And, of course, there were the rumors of the Scourge of Fire's legendary appetite for rape.

But Air? No one ever hated Air. And she doubted Air's women could produce such visceral hatred as Fire's women did during the Great War—and, undoubtedly still do, emphasized by King Kuei's hatred for her before Aang ended him. A woman born of Air could effortlessly defend herself, even with crushed limbs by sucking the air out of rapist's lungs before he inflicted her with something unforgivable and monstrous.

Azula could never be of Air, for she would forever be of Fire, but perhaps she could learn to be like Air. For Air was interesting and complex, and her awe only intensified the more she read their wisdom and understanding in the library.

There was so much to Air, and Samir's presence only reminded her that there should be people in the world to match it. And Azula's audacious but honest nomination as Mother of Air made her pay more attention, and she wondered if Samir gave her a semblance of an understanding of what an airbending child would be like, since Samir was an airbending child, even if Aang foolishly, maddeningly rejected her.

There existed in Samir a profound joy and innocence that Azula had never known nor experienced; it was riveting and pleasant because Samir was riveting and pleasant. She was a remarkable child, and the fact that she was raised a servant and retained her remarkability made Azula regret—as so many things did—how she treated her servants years ago. She asked countless questions, never tiring, and her curiosity reminded Azula of herself when she was a child seeking knowledge—before the knowledge consumed her and possessed her, embodied by her knowledge of Sozin's indoctrination, which was the opposite of wisdom, as Air observed.

Samir was a lovely child, and if Pathik was correct in his conviction that she was an Airbender, she would make a lovely Airbender, bringing such intense and overwhelming joy to Aang, who deserved it all.

But Azula wondered if Aang would accept her offer to provide him that joy, for it was a genuine offer, and it felt more and more genuine the more she studied and analyzed Air.

He had changed so suddenly and rapidly from who he was on Ember Island after their initial stumbles had been resolved. The man living with her at the Eastern Temple who awoke from a long, worrying slumber was not the man who enjoyed a vacation with her on Ember Island. On Ember Island, after they made their vow to be friends and help each other, he was free with radiant grins that became more radiant with each day they spent together; his pale gray eyes were bright, wild, and vivid with laughter and stories; he carried himself with no weight, unchained by the massive, monstrous burden he bore, body not compressed by the stress, worry, bitterness, and hatred. He was unlike anyone she had ever encountered in her life when they were together on Ember Island, drawing her in with his mischievous eyes and playful grins, reminding her of the little girl she once was who adored pranks and games and all kinds of humor, which he understood on all levels and showed it to her; his face possessed a remarkable beauty with his sharp angles softened by kindness and stability, never able to be knocked down, and his natural confidence, enticing her, was constant, soothing, and steady, and even breaking several times to reveal a shyness and bashfulness that fascinated her.

But he was different now. There was a hatred that was choking to experience—like those scarce times on Ember Island those first days when they stumbled and figured each other out, learning about one another. The hatred was so bright in presence currently that she wondered how he survived with it eating his sanity and restraint; it surpassed Father in all ways. His gray eyes, once so bright with laughter and spirit, were dark with devastating storms and ferocity, chilling to look upon, for they were imposing and almost hateful, gazing at everything with cruel judgment and disgust—like nothing was as it should be to his eyes, which looked for things that he could not find. His many grins, flashed often at her to enticing impact, were replaced by dour, grim expressions that prickled her flesh; his beautiful face was hard, carved in stone, brutal and harsh.

It was hard to look at him—and even harder to be around him. The air flashed everywhere he walked, notifying every one of his presence. For an Airbender, he was remarkably present and felt, unable to be stealthy; his energy was dark and almost gruesome, emanating in waves slamming into everyone. He was no longer free like on Ember Island, able to take a break from all his burdens and demands; he was trapped, reminded of his fate and isolation.

It was not pleasant at all, and she almost wished for him to be unconscious again, for he was unsettling to experience; his wrath was tasted in the air like smoke—and he was more terrifying than Father had ever been to her. If she never knew him on Ember Island, she would flee, expecting him to treat her like Father—but she stayed. She stayed and looked for his grins but could not find them; she looked into his gray eyes for the memories they shared on Ember Island but could not find them; she looked for his laughs, for that which would make him laugh, and found him incapable of laughter—unless it was cruel, derisive, and grim chuckles.

If she did not know him on Ember Island, she would have considered his actions at Ba Sing Se intentional.

"I could push you off, and Twinkletoes couldn't even blame me for it."

Azula glanced behind her at Toph, who approached boldly. "I think we both know he would find a way to blame you for it."

"Yeah," Toph grumbled, crossing her arms as she kicked a pebble off the ledge. "But don't worry—I'm not going to push you off. I like you better than Twinkletoes—a lot. Shows you how fucked up the world is."

"You know how to stir my ego," Azula commented dryly. "What is it you want?"

Toph shrugged. "I want Twinkletoes to get his head out of his ass, and you should have done it already. I thought whores knew how to ease stress or whatever. Go suck his stress out of him, Lightning Psycho."

Azula rolled her eyes, wondering why she enjoyed bantering with Toph despite Toph's crude and inaccurate insults. "Why?"

"He's treating all of us like badgermole shit, and I don't like it."

"And you do not confront him, why?"

"You know why. He could do to me what he did to Ba Sing Se."

Azula still was unable to comprehend the sheer slaughter of Ba Sing Se—and she was there when it happened. She knew no one of Earth, Fire, or Water could comprehend it, could only obsess and imagine.

Was that how Aang felt always about Air's murder?

"I will speak with him."

"And you have to tell him about your dad," Toph added quickly. "Because I'm not going to be the one to tell him about the Loser Lord and what happened; he'd kill me. At least with you, he'd show some grace and mercy or whatever because of your snatch. But me? Part of me thinks he'd fling me off the mountain."

"That part exaggerates," Azula observed, amused. "Even if he did fling you off the mountain, he would fly down and catch you before you crashed."

Toph's face flashed with pain and sadness. "I'm not sure."

"I am. He would catch you."

"That's not comforting."

"A whore does not comfort," she drawled.

"She does if she's paid to comfort."

"Do you see my compensation anywhere?"

"I can't see anything."

"Excuses, excuses," Azula dismissed, lips pulling slightly into a small smirk. "Where is Samir?"

Toph plopped down next to her, looking remarkably unconcerned by the fact that if Azula pushed her off, she would be unable to stop it. "She wore me out with all the running around, and now she's bothering Pathik. She's just like Twinkletoes from back when, but it may somehow be worse. I think that kid's got him beat—probably because she's only six. She's definitely an Airbender."

"You did not see Aang when he was that age. Something tells me he was more energetic than any child ever."

"I don't even see him now," Toph mumbled. "I don't know how things reached this point. I wish he'd just listen to me. He's such a jerk."

Azula considered her for several moments. "Perhaps you need to listen to him. I thought that Earthbenders are supposed to listen."

"Did Twinkletoes tell you that?"

"We had over five months together on Ember Island; there was much to discuss."

Toph scoffed, but it was without vigor. "Then Twinkletoes is a lousy Earthbender."

"He must have learned it from you, Master Earthbender. Will you remain lousy and not listen to him?"

"I guess I'm not ready to listen," Toph admitted, voice soft.

Azula shrugged. "Where is he?"

"The meditation hall—but he's not meditating."

She closed her eyes briefly. "He is brooding."

"He's spent way too much time with Sparky."

"Perhaps if you were there, he would have spent less time mastering such habits."

Toph scowled. "At least I've mastered not-pushing-a-bitch-off-the-mountain."

"You have only learned that mastery from me," Azula replied, daring to mockingly pat Toph's shoulder with a little more force than necessary, reminding her of their shared positions. "But if you ever share this position with the Water Tribes peasant-bitch, forget your mastery. Shove her off and let her scream into the mighty winds until Death swallows her screams."

"Just go be a master whore and pull Twinkletoes' head out of his ass," Toph grumbled. "I can't see what he looks like, but I can feel it. It's wrong that he's so angry and distant. He really did spend too much time with your brother. I'd think he was your dad if I hadn't met him in Ba Sing Se. But I tell you now—I don't feel any difference between them. If anything, Twinkletoes is worse."

Azula sighed, having come to a similar grueling assessment, and stood to her feet, looking one last time at the sublime view. It seemed she would have to put her potential ability as Wife of the Four Nation to the test. "I will speak with him."

"Speak at him if you have to."

"My approach will be more sophisticated than that."

"Your loss."

"For Aang's gain," she pointed out. "That is why I do this. I do not do it for me, nor do I do it for you. I do it for him—for he deserves peace more than anyone alive."

"Whatever."

XxXxXxXxXxX

"I believe you understated the grandeur of the Air Temples."

Aang turned in surprise to see Azula approaching him; he stood in the meditation hall, unable to bring himself to meditate. He had a feeling he would only see his guilt, embodied by Gyatso's ghost, and the memories of his slaughter of Ba Sing Se.

He couldn't feel more horror, guilt, and grief—he couldn't! He was close to breaking, and if he broke again, he would do Ba Sing Se all over again.

He was never going to enter The Avatar State again—because he couldn't afford to.

"I don't have your talent for words," he replied carefully, watching her.

There was something different about her, but he couldn't figure out what it was. She seemed somehow calmer and poised, resembling more the girl from the Great War in capability but not monstrosity.

Azula smirked, but there was something wondrous in her golden eyes. "I do not have the talent to describe the miracles here. I once thought Air primitive and feeble, but a civilization capable of all this is in no way primitive nor feeble."

"Sozin's indoctrination," Aang observed tiredly. "Air was renowned and sophisticated, advanced beyond the other races."

"It was primitive of me to doubt them. I see the wonders here and marvel; I have explored everywhere I can and, still, I feel a sense of reverence. It is remarkable. Are the other Air Temples similar?"

"Yes."

"And Avatar Kirku constructed them?"

"Yes."

She shook her head, the awe on her face visible and authentic. "Then he was a brilliant Avatar, despite his failure to prevent Earth and Water's war that diminished Water numerically and sent them to the North. I am grateful for my newfound understanding, which has its source in you. Thank you, Aang."

"We learn constantly," he pointed out, recalling Gyatso's wisdom. "Our understanding evolves, and we pull Life out of the cramped, warped box we confine it in. There is so much more than our perceptions."

"I once thought I had everything figured out," she replied, head tilted as her golden eyes assessed him. "But I had very little figured out, and my understanding now is far beyond that paltry understanding possessing me during the Great War."

Aang nodded. "I feel like I know less than I've ever known."

Azula's eyes glimmered with amusement. "Because now you have maturity and understand how much you lack, whereas before, you thought you knew so much."

"I thought I'd never do something so evil," he whispered, feeling drawn as the memories of Ba Sing Se blurred in his mind. "I'm past tears. I just feel numb and heavy about it. I know I did it, and I feel all the horror and grief, but those are swallowed by the numbness and… apathy."

"Understandable."

"Did I hurt you?"

Azula's head tilted. "Meaning?"

Clenching his jaw in shame, he bowed his head. "In Ba Sing Se."

Silence.

"No, Toph and I were unharmed by you."

"And Samir," he said, watching her. "But only because Indra saved her life."

Azula sighed. "She is a remarkable child. She lacks prodigiousness in anything, but she has a joy in her that is mesmerizing. With all she has endured, I find that I am in awe of her. She has a strength that, I believe, resembles your own. The strength of Air, perhaps."

"But she's not an Airbender," he reminded bitterly. "I hate what she represents, but I enjoy her a lot, and she reminds me of better times, and I think I may love her because of it, especially with her gray eyes, but there's something missing—she's not a real Airbender. Indra may have saved her, recognizing that Samir is from Air, but Samir is not of Air."

"Pathik said she has the bending energy- "

He grit his teeth, outraged at the reminder of Pathik's cruel misjudgment. "I know what Pathik said, but he's an idiot. The bending energy isn't what it's supposed to be. You think I don't know what airbending energy is supposed to feel like?"

"I never said that- "

"But you embrace it by believing that Pathik knows what he's talking about, which tells me you doubt that I know what I'm talking about." He leaned closer, making sure she understood how serious he was. "I know everything about Air. It's all I think about; it's the only thing on my mind that ever matters. Nothing else does. Believe me when I tell you that Samir's not a real Airbender, and she won't be a real Airbender. Pathik's being cruel."

"Why do you dislike him?" she asked, voice curious and non-judgmental; it was a welcome reprieve. "I thought you were friends."

"I once admired him a lot," he recalled, staring at the frescoes on the walls—the same frescoes he restored himself. "I thought he was aligned with Air, and I loved his wisdom and age, for he connected me to that beautiful time in which I lived, the time I want to return to more than anything. But I was a child then, and now I'm not a child; I'm not that boy who could overlook everything so easily. He did nothing during the Great War but trespass on the holy grounds here; he did nothing to revive Air; he did nothing to teach Air; he did nothing to help the world; he patronizes me, treating me like the Elders did, but he's not one of the Elders; he's not Gyatso, no matter how much he tries and references his friendship with him. I want to be home, but he only reminds me that there is no home, not for me. I could once overlook all that, but I can't anymore." Aang closed his eyes and shook his head. "Maturity is exaggerated."

Azula laughed, and he loved the sound. "Maturity is a bitch beyond the Conniving Bitches, but maturity may be how you find the Boy again."

Aang glanced at her. "What makes you think I want to find the Boy? You shouldn't even talk to him; you didn't even know him. He was a waste- "

"The Boy stopped Fire," she interrupted, holding his gaze steadily and intently. "He survived his encounters with the heirs of Sozin, not unscathed but stronger. I once thought the Boy was weak and incompetent, but I embodied those traits more than the Boy did. The Boy bore the pressure of the world and triumphed; I bore the pressure of my father and collapsed. The Boy saved the world and made everything after possible."

"Which means Vaatu's rise and your father's escape," he muttered.

She shook her head. "But after that, you will save the world again, for that is your nature; that is your majesty. You have the strength to endure this, no matter how distressful it becomes. We will still stand because you stand your ground, strong and imposing—because the Boy made it, and you, possible. I treated the Boy terribly—I nearly killed him—but he showed mercy and kindness when I deserved neither, and I am here now because of it. I owe the Boy my life, and I will not let you cast him aside."

Silence.

Aang's eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"It is honorable to pay a debt."

"That's not good enough."

Azula only smiled, which, to his dismay, he found swayed him of his doubts about her intentions. "I met the Boy on Ember Island—or as close to him as you are. The Boy is worth dealing with you now. Tell me about him," she insisted, holding her ground. "What was he like?"

"He was a failure."

"We are all failures," Azula dismissed. "Have more ingenuity, Aang. Tell me about the Boy and tell me with honesty. Do you trust me?"

Aang remembered his words to Pathik about not trusting Azula's nature, but he found, in the moment, he lacked conviction behind that distrust. "He liked games," he said after several moments, trying not to be consumed by his memories—as so often happened when he looked back at the miracle that was before The Avatar's evil. "He had a lot of friends, and he liked people—and people liked him back. He would pull pranks. He loved learning, but he hated being educated; he loved fruit pies; he loved the skies; he loved his tattoo of mastery and would show it off to everyone; he loved Life; he loved his fellow Airbenders; he loved himself. He knew peace and joy, and he knew love. He had everything before he ruined it."

"I enjoyed pulling pranks as a child, too," she commented. "Perhaps we could have been friends if I lived then."

"He was too good for you."

She looked amused. "Really?"

"He was a good boy," he whispered, nodding, chest wavering with the force of his emotions, and his throat felt thick and heavy. "He didn't know any better. He was innocent and kind; he was sweet and gentle." Aang's fists clenched and shook at his sides, and he stopped his earthbending from quaking the room. "But it's still his fault. He ruined everything. He shouldn't have been born."

Azula hummed. "Your sense of accountability and responsibility is most admirable and should be replicated by every man and woman alive. But I think you lack honesty in your assessment now, consumed by a lie. I once was consumed by many lies, and I know I still have a few I am consumed by. In what honest way is it the Boy's fault, who you said did not know any better?"

Aang stared at her in disbelief. "Because if he stayed, he could have stopped it! I could have wiped out Sozin and his armies!"

Her golden eyes assessed him curiously. "At such a young age with the power of Sozin's Comet bolstering their potency, including Sozin's?"

"Yes!"

"Do you remember, truly remember, the Boy? I never knew the Boy, no, but I think I saw a lot of him when we fought, and Zuko told me several stories. The Boy would not have understood what was happening; he would have been terrified."

"Exactly! I'd be completely terrified, but because I'm The Avatar, I'd go into The Avatar State, and no one could stop me, least of all Sozin. But the Boy, that stupid idiot, prevented that from happening."

Azula stared at him for several moments, face unreadable. "What do you think Gyatso would say?"

Aang looked away, squeezing his eyes shut. "I know what he'd say."

"I speak of Gyatso, not that specter that tormented you. What would the Gyatso you told me about say? What would your father say?"

"That it's not my fault," he whispered, voice shaking slightly. "But he's wrong. I know it's my fault; I've always known, and I always will know. I will die and be reborn knowing it was my fault."

"Will you tell your children about your failure?" Azula asked, voice light and curious. "Will you tell them that Air's murder is your fault?"

"Of course."

Her head tilted. "I am unsure you will."

"You're wrong," he denied even though he knew, deep down, she was right.

"Sometimes you have to let things die, Aang," Azula said quietly. "By keeping hold of that failure, you keep it alive, and, in effect, you keep failing by being unable to let go and letting it die; you keep your failure alive."

"The only way I connect with them is by remembering my failure. I'm never not going to remember."

"You should remember; you should hold those memories. But those memories should not hold you like they do."

"I don't know how to do that," Aang confessed, worn. "I don't even know what I'm doing anymore. How do I fix that?"

She shrugged. "I cannot say."

He closed his eyes. "I'm done talking about this."

"But this conversation seems helpful. Continue the conversation."

"I don't know how to talk to anyone, it feels like. Except you."

Azula smirked. "I am a prodigy, after all."

"I don't know how to talk to Pathik anymore; I don't know how to talk to Toph anymore. I can talk to Samir, even though she's a fake Airbender, which is more evil than anything else, but I love talking to her."

"She is splendid."

"Yes. But it's not easy to talk to her because I have to think about what I say. It's not easy to talk to anyone but you and Zuko."

"I am a much more enjoyable conversationalist than my brother," Azula dismissed, waving a hand. "I thought you did not want to speak with Toph."

Aang shrugged, refusing to look at her, trying to find solace in the frescoes—as always, he didn't. "I don't know. We've talked, and even though it's combative, and it can turn violent verbally, it's almost comforting; it's a reminder of before, even if it's different at the same time."

"But is- "

"I'm not talking about this anymore."

Silence.

Azula stood next to him, staring at the frescoes he restored. "Pathik said this is the meditation hall."

He watched her analyze the frescoes with an admirable eye. "It is."

"I try to visualize the monks and nuns- "

"Nuns only," he interrupted. "The Northern and Southern housed all the monks while the Western and Eastern housed all the nuns."

Azula nodded. "Why the separation?"

"To prevent sexual desire from diminishing enlightenment."

She glanced up at him. "Yet sexual desire is what kept Air alive for countless generations, and sexual desire is what will revive Air."

Aang sighed. "The separation is a controlled attempt to prevent sexual desire from controlling you."

"Will you do the same?"

"That tradition may die with me," he acknowledged, but he didn't feel as much grief about that tradition dying with him as he did with other traditions he knew would likely die with him, such as the no-meat-diet.

"I try to visualize the nuns who sat here for centuries and achieved remarkable understanding, but I fail in my endeavor. I can only imagine you, and you alone, for you are all I know."

Aang felt the familiar melancholy. "You would know so much more if not for Sozin."

Azula hummed, quiet for several moments. "I would not appreciate Air if not for Sozin, for I followed his indoctrination so severely that I realized its impotence when my mind broke; it was not sustainable. But I know Air because of that, and I know Air because of you. It is brilliant and intelligent. I dare say it is more intelligent than Fire."

"Yes," he confirmed swiftly with a nod. "Air reached heights of greatness impossible for the other races, even Fire. We strove for Heaven, reaching out with our senses and minds, and we were so close if not already there. And I shame them every day because I'm unworthy of them. When I die and see them again, and they ask me of the things I did, they will turn away in horror if I tell them about what I did to Ba Sing Se and its inhabitants."

"Why did you annihilate Ba Sing Se?"

Aang closed his eyes, sinking into himself. "I don't want to talk about that."

"I think you were overwhelmed and surrendered yourself to vengeance on Appa's behalf. But more than that, I think you enjoyed it—in the moment. I think you wanted to snap."

His eyes snapped open and stared at her in horror. "What are you talking about? I hated it!"

She smiled something old and worn. "No, you hate it now, recognizing its monstrosity. But in the moment, you did not hate it; you enjoyed it, wanting—needing—to snap. If it was only vengeance, you would have killed King Kuei quickly and primarily, along with the Dai Li and Council of Five. You would have concentrated your wrath on only them, sparing the rest of Ba Sing Se from affliction. But that is not what you did—because you enjoyed unleashing the wrath, expunging yourself of the darkness, freeing yourself, surrendering yourself to feeling and impulse utterly." A blue flame sprung to life in her hand, hovering and flickering. "You enjoyed the moment, as all do, until the moment ended, producing the shame, guilt, and doubt that gnaw at you. I lived always in the moment; I adored the moment; I loved the moment—for I thought I had peace then. When in the moment, there was no stress; there was no shame nor doubt; there was no doubt. But every time after the moment, for the moment ends always, I felt ravished by those afflictions, the same situation that you experience now."

Aang stared at her, relieved they were alone. "Maybe you're right. It felt good to let loose like that in the moment. That's all that mattered. Because it was all about me. I didn't care about anyone else; I didn't care that I was murdering millions in an eruption of uncontrollable rage. All I cared about was me and satisfying that rage and feeding my vengeance for Appa by killing Kuei, the Dai Li, and the Council of Five. And in that moment, it seemed worth it; it seemed like the right thing to do. But now I wonder how I did it—because I couldn't have done it; I shouldn't have done it."

"But you did," Azula pointed out evenly. "And we must prepare for the severe and grim repercussions."

"It was Ozai," he whispered, watching Azula stiffen, face paling slightly. "He was there, and he shot the lightning that killed Appa. I know it was him. He's the only one who makes sense. There are only a handful of Firebenders who can wield lightning, and to be able to fire lightning from that massive distance accurately at Appa to kill him is something that only Ozai could do. Kuei said it was Agni, but I know it wasn't Agni; I would have felt him if it was."

Azula was quiet for several moments, and there was a tension on her face. "I know it was my father. I reached the conclusion immediately. My father allied himself briefly with King Kuei."

Aang nodded. "Exactly. Because that's the only thing that makes sense. He was in Ba Sing Se, and he saw an opportunity and took it. And I already know that out of the so many I killed he wasn't among them. This isn't over; it's only begun."

Her face tightened, along with her posture, and Aang didn't understand. "I must confess—it is my fault. You think the fault lies with you, but its source is me. I put you in that vile situation."

He blinked. "What are you talking about? It's not your fault."

"I could have prevented it- "

"You were imprisoned before you escaped," Aang reminded patiently, talking quickly to prevent the memories from overwhelming him. "And you didn't hear my whole conversation with Kuei because you arrived half-way through with some man who…" Something horrible gripped his heart, and his breathing elevated as Azula bowed her head in admission. "Him. You arrived with him," he breathed, trying not to believe it, mind racing frantically to try to find holes in the logic, but it made sense—horrifying sense!

Azula looked remorseful, but he felt certain it was an act, a performance—just as her performance in nominating herself for Mother of Air! "Father freed me from my cell, and we watched you interact with King Kuei until Toph appeared. Then he departed, and I joined you."

Silence.

Aang stared at her incomprehensibly for several long moments, trying to make sense of the impossible; he felt a dark betrayal seethe inside him, and something snapped. "Why didn't you tell me?" he roared, voice rising until it echoed in the meditation hall in ways that were unnatural and unbecoming for a devoted Air Nomad. "You should have told me! I could have stopped all of this from happening if you told me! I could have taken care of it immediately!"

"Yes."

Something hysterical broke inside. "Of course! This is all your plan to seduce me, so your father has an edge against me!"

Azula flinched but shook her head. "No. That is- "

"It makes sense!"

"It does, but it is not honest; it is simplistic."

"You let him go!"

"I did."

"You let him kill Appa!"

Azula remarkably bore his ire and only nodded. "I never conceived the result of my weakness, but results matter more than intentions. I can offer you nothing but my regret."

Aang's eyes blazed, and the air lashed against her, making her hair wild and alive. "But the result was intentional! You were always asking about The Avatar State, pressuring me to enter it, and the moment you meet your father again, he makes me enter The Avatar State! It all makes sense! You wanted this- "

"No- "

"You've lost your mind again! That's the only reason you'd ever betray me for him!"

Azula flinched, taking a step back before she righted herself. "I failed."

He threw his arms in the air, trying to keep from stomping around the meditation hall; that would only dishonor the memory of his serene race. "And now you are going to make the comparison that since I know how to fail, since that's all I ever do- "

"I tried to kill him."

Aang paused, registering the shaking fists at her sides, the ashamed look in her golden eyes, and the mournful tone in her voice. "No, you didn't," he replied at last after several moments, feeling calmer. "I felt you the entire time, making sure you were safe, and there was no attack- "

Azula managed her wild hair into something more composed since the air was still, fingers acting as directors. "I summoned a fire dagger, and I was going to plunge it into his throat, driving it from end to end, ending his life. But I only held the dagger; it was all I could do. I could not do more, for I am a failure; I am weak." Something disgusted and heartbroken crossed her face, and Aang's back slid down one of the frescoes until he sat on the floor, exhausted. "And he knew it. He said I was weak, and I only verified it. My nature is weakness, reliant on someone else for survival, for I am no survivor; I never have been, and I never will be. Always, I relied on Father's mercy; always, I relied on Zuko's mercy; and now, I rely always on your mercy."

He stared up at her. "What did he say to you?"

"He became King Kuei's advisor, and he had his ear; he was in charge of the Dai Li."

"Of course," he muttered, unable to feel surprised. "Did he mention Vaatu? Did he mention his plans?"

"He refused to speak about Dark when I tried to ask about his 'worthy friend,' and he mentioned he wished for his ascension; he wants to re-ascend the Dragon's Throne."

Aang assessed her for lies, but he felt nothing—as always; he closed his eyes and placed his fists over his eyes. "You shouldn't blame yourself. I still did what I did; it's my fault."

He felt Azula sit down next to him, back against the pristine frescoes. "I only have answers to give you, no solutions. Is there anything else you wish to know?"

"What happened to Toph?"

"Father ordered me to kill her, and she fled into the earth, and the Dai Li chased her, which left me alone with him. Then we watched and listened to your conversation with King Kuei."

He removed his fists and looked at her. "Why didn't you go with him? If you couldn't kill him, it means you feel loyal to him."

Azula sighed. "I was never going to go with him. If he asked, I would have conceived an excuse that justified my staying with you."

"But he didn't ask," Aang pointed out, having a sinking feeling. "You said 'if' he asked, meaning he didn't ask. He told you to stay with me, didn't he?"

"He said to return to your side."

Aang's fists hurt from how hard he clenched. "Why? To do what?"

"To monitor you," she admitted after several tense moments. "He seeks an ingress to strike at you."

"He's not going to get it," he warned. "I don't want you- "

"Of course not," Azula huffed, looking annoyed. "I am not betraying you. I only prepare you. We need a plan. What is the plan?"

"No matter what I do, I'm damned," he answered bitterly. "If I go to the Earth Kingdom or the North, I'd be attacked; if I go to the Fire Nation, it's a betrayal; if I go the South, I'm a coward; if I stay at the Air Temples, I'm apathetic and cruel. I can't win, but I have no choice but to make a choice."

"What do you choose?"

Aang glanced at her. "I'm staying here for now. I need to think."

"Thinking can be dangerous," Azula commented, but she turned to him, face eager, golden eyes piercing. "But my sudden thoughts are intriguing. Perhaps we can use this 'monitoring' against Father. He cannot conceive that I would betray him for you, and if I play him, I can be your ingress to him rather than his to you."

Silence.

"That's dangerous," he said softly, eyes roaming her face, which looked more beautiful than it should, and he felt his anger bleed away.

"I lived dangerously, and live dangerously still I shall. It was my error in Ba Sing Se that culminated in tragedy. I am willing to deceive him; I know the danger, and I accept it."

He nodded. "We'll need to discuss what you can tell him, what lies you should feed him to distract him."

"Yes. But there needs to be more to this plan."

"Such as?"

"You need to master your chakras."

He clenched his jaw, irritated. "No. I won't be able to."

"Master the ones you can, and when we leave, I will help you with the others."

Aang glanced at her, brows rising. "You think you're going to master them? It's difficult."

"I am a prodigy," she recited, looking proud.

"So am I," he reminded, amused, "and a prodigy beyond you. I won't be able to do it."

Azula sighed. "Pathik already explained it to me in detail. I know I will struggle, but I will triumph. I will help you as only I can."

Aang tensed, recalling her nomination for Mother of Air. "I didn't ask you for your help."

"I offer it to you."

"But I don't need it—because if I needed it, I would ask for it. Instead, you insert yourself into something that has nothing to do with you."

Azula's eyes searched his face before she sighed. "This is no longer about mastering chakras."

"No, it's not," he confirmed, furious.

"My nomination for Mother of Air?"

"Yes."

Azula nodded and stood straighter. "I supposed we have avoided this conversation long enough. What do you wish to say?"

Aang didn't understand how she was so calm, but he pointed at her. "I didn't ask you to nominate yourself."

"It is a reasonable solution that- "

"It's reasonable to you!" he snapped. "I don't even know if this is a game or not. You could be manipulating me, like so many people have tried to do—and just like Kuei did for so long! And you couldn't even kill your father! How do I know you would be loyal to me when you 'agreed' to monitor me on his orders?" When Azula's face paled slightly, he scoffed. "Because it is a game, isn't it? That's all it is."

"No," she denied, shaking her head. "It is genuine."

"How could I possibly know that?" he demanded. "You kept mentioning The Avatar State, wanting to see it—because that's all you care about- "

Azula rolled her eyes—actually rolled her eyes! "Very unoriginal. Yes, The Avatar is renowned and miraculous, and I have always yearned to see him, but you forget that I saw The Avatar in Ba Sing Se, and it was beyond fathom; it was a terrifying ordeal."

Aang flinched. "I'm sorry."

"But what do you see when you look at me?" she continued, voice challenging. "Do you see fear? Do you see anxiety? Do you see hesitancy?"

His eyes roamed her face before gazing into her hypnotic eyes and shook his head. "No."

"I am still here, even after watching The Avatar master Death and wield it as his own. For I trust you; I trust Aang. I am most fond of Aang. We share this conversation right now as Azula and Aang, not Princess and Avatar. At first, yes, I cared about The Avatar, but now I do not care about The Avatar."

"That's a lie," he hissed. "Everyone cares about The Avatar."

Azula was silent for several moments, considering. "I misspoke. At first, I looked for The Avatar, but now I do not look for The Avatar."

"Because you finally saw the evil that he is."

"No," she denied, voice vehement. "Because I see you; I see Aang, which means The Avatar, and you are worthy of all the affection in the world. Yes, The Avatar is a delightful bonus, but I do not need The Avatar; I have had my 'fill' of The Avatar, but I have not had my 'fill' of Aang, and I doubt I shall ever have my 'fill' of Aang—for you are wonderful, complex, and deeply intelligent. You helped me on Ember Island and gave me freedom, helping me with the madness that still lurked in my mind, and I want to help you. For that is what friends do—reciprocity, remember? We are friends, and that is why I nominated myself. If you were not The Avatar, I would have done the same; if there were several Airbenders who survived Sozin's assault and remained, meaning there are other Airbenders in the world, still dwindled numerically because of the Attack, I would have done the same. I am genuine, Aang."

Aang couldn't believe it—literally, he couldn't believe it—because it was too perfect, and he had learned painfully that nothing was perfect and if there was perfection, it would be stolen from him in the most agonizing and vicious of ways.

"I don't believe you," he whispered.

Azula tilted her chin upward, golden eyes staring up at him; her expression was intent and determined. "I will prove the veracity of my claim."

"It's not about your claim," Aang said, trying to keep from snapping at her. "Every fertile woman in the world has a claim, and you're clearly fertile."

"Thank you."

A ragged sigh escaped him, and he didn't want to look at how beautiful she was, but he couldn't look away from her. "It's about you. I don't know if you're going to regress; I don't know if you're manipulating me; I don't know if this is a ploy; I don't know if you're trying to be that ingress for your father. And it's all because you brought it up; you inserted yourself into something that doesn't apply to you. Everything was perfect until you nominated yourself, so being Mother of Air, which includes all the power and prestige that comes with it, was on your mind. There's something else here. I could have brought the possibility to you, but you brought it up, and I don't know what that means."

Azula sighed. "Is it possible that I want to help you because I am fond of you?"

"It is, but I need to figure out if that's what's going on."

"We are friends, yes?" she asked, challenging him. "You told me that friendship means reciprocity and connection. We share a connection, and my nomination ensures reciprocity; we will help each other—as friends do."

"But you introduced it and brought it up," he reminded, jaw clenched. "You never had the right to bring that up; you had no right to insert yourself into Air because that is my decision. Yes, we're friends, but it was my decision to approach my friend about such a possibility, not yours. Because you took that decision from me, I can't help but wonder what else you'll take from me. Will you scorn the great wisdom of Air, propagated by all the monks and nuns who strove for Truth? Will you finish what Sozin tried so hard to, destroying Air, whether overtly or covertly? Will you end up hating me and conspire with my enemies, with Vaatu himself? Will you return to your father and give my children to him? Will you take my children from me? Will you indoctrinate them with Sozin's poison? Will you turn them against me? Will you tell them that Air is weak and feeble? Will you corrupt Air's teachings to suit your whims? Will you want to mutilate Air into Fire, making it into something it's not and never can be? Will your passions control you? Will you love the power I give you more than me? What if you don't love me and my children, only yourself? What if you don't really love Air and are only pretending?"

Her golden eyes roamed his face in disbelief; she looked wounded, and he felt incredible guilt for wounding her, but he had to tell her. "Do you think that poorly of me?"

"I think that poorly of my fate, which has ruined everything good in my life, over and over again. You are amazing and the best person I've met since the Iceberg, but I once had something so much more amazing, and it was ruined—because of me and Sozin. And you're Sozin's descendant, and I can't overlook that—I'm never going to overlook that. You're incredible, but will you stay incredible? You've been so reasonable and intelligent, but will you stay reasonable and intelligent? It's too good; it's too perfect." Something broken pierced his already broken heart. "It's not real; it can't be. Your blood is evil, and I can't let Air be evil."

Azula's eyes were sharp and promising in their determination. "On my honor, I will prove myself to you; I will dedicate myself to proving the veracity of my authenticity."

"We'll see."

XxXxXxXxXxX

Wow! That was another big chapter—quite a doozy. Took me a while to write it. Tell me what you think.

**The Earth Kingdom is NOT happy about Aang's actions to Ba Sing Se! I mean, what else could you expect? Murdering Ba Sing Se is not the way to gain allies; in fact, Aang only gave Vaatu and Ozai A LOT of allies—quite cunning on Ozai's part. Of course, Ozai didn't think that Aang would murder Ba Sing Se, only fuck shit up a little bit, but his plan worked better than he imagined.

Bumi appears with his grandchildren—Bor and Anju—and Anju's husband, Batsu to discuss the precarious state of the Earth Kingdom's politics and situation, and it's a pretty bleak situation. Aang running off REALLY didn't help matters because no answers are provided or given, which culminates in people's imaginations running wild with the bare fact—The Avatar murdered Ba Sing Se and 95% of its inhabitants, including King Kuei, meaning millions in total, in minutes. But Bumi has a plan, and he's more than willing to put in the work. Also, Bumi and Toph were in strife while Toph lived with him. Toph discovered a secret about Bumi that he tried to bury and confronted him over it. The result was Bumi attacking Toph to stop her from telling Bor, nearly killing her, and threatening her with true blindness should she ever mention anything to Bor.

I'm firmly in the camp that Bumi could kick Toph's ass and twice on Sunday because he's a stronger Earthbender. I mean, it makes WAY more sense and is far more compelling and sensible. There's an adage that the man who survives in a profession in which men die young is a man you should be terrified of, and the profession of war is a mass grave; it's death! But Bumi survived. That means something; it means a lot! When not even Sozin survived the Great War (of course, he was never going to because of his loneliness and age), Azulon died during the Great War (of course, he was assassinated and would have survived if not for Ozai manipulating Ursa into killing him, but the point stands), and Sozin's other children (because Sozin would have other children after wedding such a young, beautiful, fertile wife, a wife powerful enough to bear Azulon) died, only Bumi survived. In this, Katara's grandfather and great-grandfather—both of whom were exceptionally powerful Waterbenders, so powerful that Azulon had to kill father and son on separate occasions, giving Katara an actual background for why she's powerful, capable of defeating Zuko and Azula—didn't survive the Great War, but Bumi did. You see, the Great War started with all these strong, powerful men fighting each other, brimming with hatred and motivation. But everyone died—except Bumi. He's the lone survivor, the only one who walked through the fire (pun intended) and survived. There must be an answer—because Bumi is a behemoth in bending, a genius, and a killer who doesn't hesitate.

During the Day of Black Sun, Bumi single-handedly retook the entire city of Omashu, killing thousands of non-benders and Firebenders alike, and that was all in ONLY EIGHT MINUTES—that's what's particularly staggering about the feat, the fact that it was in only eight minutes, which is fucking insane. And you have to think that Bumi had received barely any food or water for MONTHS, meaning his body is severely weakened, but he's still capable of all that? Yes, he's stronger than Toph—by quite a bit, in my estimation. Even though the sun was blocked, any Firebender's chi during that time was still full of energy. Firebenders couldn't express that by bending because the darkened sun wouldn't allow that, but they could still fight, using their chi to even strengthen their body. Plus, Bumi can bend with his face! Nobody else can do that with earthbending! We also need to take in the fact that Bumi is a century older than Toph, with decades of experience and knowledge that Toph simply doesn't and will more than likely never have. Bumi was, as a teenager, raised in war. Every day, he would train and train and train. Then he was on the battlefield fighting. Whereas Toph was raised in a cage and was unable to fully apply herself. She never necessarily had the time to fully commit to training like Bumi did because she was under house arrest thanks to her parents. Combine all of those things together, and I believe that it is easy to understand that Bumi is more powerful than Toph. Also, prodigies are known to struggle against someone who is their equal or superior; they are so used to being the best that, when they are beaten, it is impossible for them to grasp that they aren't the best. Azula was an example of this, Toph is an example of this, and even Katara was briefly when she first taught Aang waterbending. (She thought that she was so great because she taught herself some small moves, but then Aang, pun definitely intended, blew her out of the water.) So, Bumi was definitely a prodigy, but he was in war constantly, pushing his limits and testing himself, going against foes that he couldn't beat—Sozin and Azulon. Toph has never faced someone she couldn't beat like that—until she faces Bumi, for Bumi would defeat her.

Meanwhile, Toph's strength is her weakness and can really be used against her, especially by someone as intelligent, cunning, and instinctive as Bumi (I mean, she was easily tricked and captured by Xin Fu and Master Yu, on the orders of her father). Her key vulnerability is her blindness. Experienced combatants, like Bumi who fought during the entire duration of the Great War, could easily exploit her inability to see through her feet and only "see" things when it is touching the ground, achieving victory in a match. Really, if you use a little imagination and honesty, it's quite easy to conceive of ways to defeat Toph. (Disorient her hearing, such as a thunderclap of boulders smashing near her, taking out her only possible way of knowing something is coming at her from the air; break one of her feet, or both, compromising her "vision;" get close enough and apply bodily pressure, such as yanking her hair, punching her neck, poking her eyes, ripping off her ears, etc. Any projectile would kill Toph, realistically, because she only can connect to the earth if she feels it, meaning it's connected to the ground, sensed by her feet. But if, say, a stone spear was thrown at her, she shouldn't be able to feel it—because she couldn't sense it to stop it because she's blind, having no conception of anything visual, for there must be a meaningful point of connection, something instinctive and complete, but Toph has no instinct for the visual, meaning she can't connect to a stone spear thrown at her, and she would die because of it.) Yes, Toph could, 99% of the time, prevent those attacks, but when it comes to that top 1% of benders that are genius, prolific, and elite, she's fucked—because Bumi is certainly near the top of that 1%, rivaling Azulon. Bumi doesn't have that obvious, glaring weakness that Toph has, and Bumi has hatred, for he's experienced infinitely more than Toph, who was coddled her entire childhood and faced less-than-talented—mediocre—Earthbenders in the Earth Rumble VI tournaments.

Sure, Toph learned from some badgermoles, but that doesn't translate that well. ALL she learned from the badgermoles was how to expand her senses and "see" through her feet—that's it. Because training requires intense conversation and the ability of language, which the badgermoles clearly don't have, and Toph would need that, since she must use language, requiring it more than the direct visual because she's blind. Sure, she can "see" the movements with her feet, but it's not the same. There are definite drawbacks to "seeing" through her feet. Yes, Toph's feat of holding up Wan Shi Tong's library is VERY impressive, and her discovery of metalbending is very impressive, but metalbending isn't directly tied to power. It has its source in ingenuity, not strength, so it doesn't help her—especially since Bumi could easily master metalbending once shown its possible. But to me, holding Wan Shi Tong's library is really an outlier in terms of her capability, for she's not shown nearly as capable at other times. (Her fight against a non-bending Azula and several Dai Li during the Day of Black Sun comes to mind; really, I have MANY problems with that entire scene, in general. I loved Azula's mind games, but she should have been captured WAY before she was, especially with Aang and Toph there; it doesn't make sense, ultimately.) She and Aang knocking through many of the Dai Li in Book II is impressive, but Aang was there and so was the rest of the Gaang; Toph probably did the most work (besides maybe Appa, of course, lol), but it was a group effort. Now, her sandbending feat in Book III when she creates miniature versions of the Gaang, to me, is actually her most impressive feat—because that requires an INSANE amount of detail, which means control. So, ultimately, Toph has precise control—insane precision control—but that doesn't translate to raw power and strength, which is what Bumi has. Sure, control can beat raw power and strength, and often does, but that's disregarding Bumi's great control, too, and his immense intelligence.

In my estimation, Toph is probably at 90% maxed out for earthbending power, 93% maxed out for earthbending strength, and 99% maxed out for earthbending control; whereas, Bumi is 99% maxed out for earthbending power; 99% maxed out for earthbending strength, and 97% maxed out for earthbending control (the earthbending-with-his-face is an amazing feat, which requires immense control, but it's not as brilliant as Toph's sandbending feat, in my estimation).

**Ozai has hunted/is hunting down the Order of the White Lotus, dwindling Aang's list of allies, cutting off his power base. I mean, Vaatu would want Ozai to be excellent, and what better way for Ozai to prove his excellence and regain his skill and power in firebending than hunting down the Order of the White Lotus, some of the most powerful benders in the world and fiercely loyal to The Avatar? It's killing two birds with one stone. Unfortunately, Ozai's latest victim, of his many, is Jeong Jeong. Not to mention, Ozai has swayed the Fire Sages to his side—again.

**Aang wakes up two months unconscious and speaks with Pathik. I really wanted Aang to discuss the Mother of Air position more honestly because it's a fucking massive deal that always gets swept under the rug. He has to know that the Mother of Air wouldn't betray him, his children, and Air, but how could the Mother of Air not betray Air if she is, say, born of Fire? Fire betrayed Air once to catastrophic effect. It's ballsy to be willing to consider Azula as Mother of Air at all, from Aang's perspective, but the fact that he's considering her—seriously considering her—means a lot. And after Ba Sing Se, after having trusted Kuei for years, he's looking for Azula to betray him; he's looking for an excuse to disqualify her from being the Mother of Air. Why wouldn't he think those things about Azula? That she'd be an unworthy mother; that she'd sabotage him; that she'd ruin his children just as Sozin ruined his childhood; that she'd try to change Air into Fire? I think those are some serious doubts that must be held because, out of all the women in the world, he's considering the woman, formerly girl, who hunted him across the world and almost killed him, almost ending The Avatar Cycle. I mean, it's a certain risk from his perspective. Yes, he already loves Azula, but he thinks it's too perfect that she wants to be Mother of Air, being in awe of Air, and wanting to help him, and he's learned the hard way that perfection is impossible and a painful, agonizing lie.

Aang already earned Azula's trust in all facets on Ember Island, and Azula earned Aang's trust on Ember Island—but only as a friend, only in that facet. The moment Azula nominates herself for Mother of Air, it changes things between them, for Aang has to look at her differently and seriously consider her from all angles—meaning, not only physically. There are risks with any woman being the Mother of Air, but the risks with Azula being the Mother of Air are much greater and those risks have a lethality and danger that the risks associated with other women don't. Of course, the rewards with Azula being the Mother of Air are also much greater than any other woman, but Aang likes to be an Airbender, which means not taking risks, especially about the future of Air and something as monumental as the Mother of Air. Now, Azula has to earn Aang's trust about being the Mother of Air. You could make the argument that Azula had to earn her father's trust in a similar manner, but I disagree. Azula had to earn her father's praise and regard, not his trust—because Ozai trusts/trusted no one but himself and Ursa. Azula already has Aang's praise and regard; really, she always had it since they met on Ember Island.

Aang meets Samir, who is an Airbender, confirmed by Pathik! I know Aang was a grade-A asshole to Samir when first meeting her, but it makes sense with context. He just woke up after two months unconscious, and his last memories are of seeing Gyatso's ghost, before which he murdered Ba Sing Se. He has a lot of adjustments to make, but it's so difficult because he feels so much horror and guilt about what he did. And then add in the fact he and Pathik have a contentious relationship, he doesn't 100% trust what Pathik says like he would, say, Azula (except about her nomination for Mother of Air, of course). So, when he hears that Samir is from Air, meaning she has Air's lineage, descended from an Airbender of old, he's overjoyed, thinking that maybe he's not alone, that he won't be the only one of Air in the world. But then he realizes that Samir isn't of Air, meaning she doesn't have the "right" flowing energy of Air because she's not an Airbender like he remembers Airbenders from his childhood being. He can't get over Air's slaughter, and every time he sees Samir, despite knowing she's an Airbender, he can't help but compare her to the Airbenders he knew and sees only her immense faults and flaws. That realization angers him because he got his hopes up, and he reacts poorly. But then he speaks with Samir alone, and they reach an understanding, and it helps that Samir is a kind child.

**Zuko, Katara, Sokka, Suki, Iroh, and Ursa discuss Aang murdered Ba Sing Se, reeling from the aftermath of the unthinkable. And they receive Bumi's letter about the state of the Earth Kingdom and the slaughter of the Order of the White Lotus.

**Aang and Azula speak about his actions at Ba Sing Se, Air, Samir, Aang's disdain for his younger self, Ozai appearing in Ba Sing Se (Azula confesses of what happened and how she couldn't kill her father), and Azula's nomination for Mother of Air and how Aang doesn't trust it—because it's too perfect, among other things.

That's all for this one, everyone, so if you tell me what you thought about it, I'd really appreciate it.

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