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!

19. Atonement

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Disclaimer: I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender

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The sun had just risen over the horizon, bringing forth a new day—one closer to Evil's appearance. Jaded, dark clouds sought to hinder the sunrise, but it was futile; Agni was inevitable. The air was cold, aloof; it foretold the events soon to pass when Sozin's Comet arrived—the day when Evil struck more than any other; the day of Air's murder. It was the day Aang would change, even if it took him one more try! He was determined to not only save the Southern Temple but all the temples—all of Air!

Nothing mattered now except saving his race. Chief Kuhna's disgusting beliefs that Sozin indoctrinated him with didn't matter; none of the world's shocking hostility towards his race didn't matter; not even he himself mattered.

Only Air mattered.

He would do what he needed to do, regardless of the consequences and regardless of if it damned him forever in the world's eyes, in history's eyes, or the Tree's eyes.

Only Air mattered, after all; if his race loved him, it was enough—because they were worth it forever!

He hadn't dared stop running after unleashing the storm that swallowed the Boy; he kept running across the waves, continuing his relentless journey—because he was so close! Now that he had reached the towering mountain range housing the Southern Temple at its highest, grandest point, he ran even faster; he leaped onto the mountain and took off, jumping at every point possible, blurring past many identifiable features of the mountains that he knew—because he knew his home! He jumped from mountain to mountain, sailing over the valleys that Chief Kuhna disgustingly claimed housed the broken bodies of non-bending babies born to his race who were disposed of. The reminder infuriated him, and he ran faster, gathering the winds as he continued, propelling him larger distances.

Agni's light pierced across the mountain range as he sailed through the air, and he saw it—it was home!

It was the Southern Temple in its healthy prime.

His home was more beautiful and splendid than it had ever been before; it was alive with Airbenders—living, breathing Airbenders!—and sky bison playing on the temple's grounds and flying by the ledge of the temple. The Airball Court was very crowded, and he saw many of the boys with whom he had played during his childhood dominating the game. He witnessed the temple truly alive again. Since the Great War, the energy of all the temples had been broken, withered and splintered to the bone, but now, it was whole and something beautiful. Aang felt tears prick his eyes as a sight that he had never thought that he would see again assaulted his eyes, the very glimpses of holy joy.

His race was alive and well, here in body with him! They were real! They were present with presence! It wasn't only his memories with which he tried to fill the agonizing void! It was actually them—all of them!

He had made the right decision, and he almost crashed to the valley below due to the emotions overwhelming him—he was in love with the Tree, who let him fix It's absurdity!—as his chest burst with love and awe, supplied by the passion flowing out of his heart. It was better than the weak memories that he had desperately tried to sustain himself with in that damned, evil time! It was better than he remembered—even more beautiful and majestic, perfection incarnate! Tears spilled down his cheeks as he observed his home, and he memorized the sight; he knew it would be the greatest moment of his life—because it was the start of his redemption for his sick, disgusting failures!

The only regret was that he hadn't brought Appa with him to experience such miraculous joy after it had been deprived from them both. Appa deserved to zoom forward with a roar of magnificent presence, amplified by his delight in no longer being alone, and fly around and play with the other sky bison at the Southern Temple—the same sky bison that he once knew.

But Appa wasn't with him, and Aang regretted it; he vowed that when he returned to the Tree to do it all over again to save his whole race, not only the Southern Temple, he would use It's power and bring Appa with him.

Aang hung to the mountain's precipice, staring out at his home and savored it for several more moments, basking in the peace that surrounded him—it was the first peace he felt since learning his damned identity as The Avatar! Feeling lighter and more vigorous, swelled by a giddy sensation that wiped away all his sins, crimes, and ills, he wondered, not for the first time, how Sozin was capable of it. How could he descend on a place with his army's legions of Imperial Firebenders, with ten or more on dozens and dozens of dragons, and harness the power of the Great Comet to annihilate such a gentle, serene, idyllic, and perfect race? How could he see the beauty of the Air Temples and want to destroy it? He should want to preserve their beauty as Aang did, but Sozin only wanted to destroy, revealing an inhumanity that was worse and more grotesque than any other.

He would save them this time!

Aang calculated the vast distance and leaped, feeling the nourishing wind on his face, rippling through his hair, and filling his lungs with splendor; he landed at the bottom of the valley as he wanted. He knew he had to play it carefully; he had to be wise and intelligent. No one in the temple besides Gyatso would believe he was Aang, and he knew the key to his success was finding Gyatso, explaining everything, and having Gyatso help him explain to all the others, getting them on his side, getting them to trust him. He couldn't simply stride into the temple; he had to sneak around and gather his bearings, figure out where Gyatso was, and go from there.

He traveled up the mountain, being careful not to be seen—or sensed—by anyone in the temple, but it seemed that they were too engrossed with airball to notice him. He circled around the mountain and found the secret entrance that he had found in the damned, evil time; he now knew everything about the secrets of the Air Temples. It was painless to enter when he punched out a small gust of wind into the innocent-looking rock; the hidden door opened soundlessly.

He traveled in darkness, refusing to summon a small flame—no fire deserved to burn in the Air Temples!—as he went forward through the tunnel. He stayed in the tunnel for several moments, timing it perfectly as he sensed bodies—his race!—in the halls outside the tunnel. With a controlled burst, he dashed out of the tunnel when no one was paying attention and hugged the muraled frescoes, finding their presences so much more significant than the repainted ones—the ones he had painted and drawn himself—in the damned, evil time. But as he traveled, sticking to the shadows, he realized with shame that he wasn't like the others he saw, who had an astonishing level of obliviousness. He admitted to himself that he wasn't concealing himself as effectively as he could because part of him wanted to be caught immediately so he could interact with people of his race—as it should be!

But no one was aware of his presence, which should be easily sensed, and they should recognize that he was unlike anyone else in the temple; he was still wearing the Water Tribe garbs! He realized swiftly how unprepared his race was, how casual they seemed about any possibility of attack. There was an arrogance clouding the air, a sense of untouchable superiority because of the perfection of their positions in the skies.

He had always known his race was unprepared for violence and war, but it was another thing to see it—and see it so close to Sozin's Comet!

No one had any idea of the coming calamity.

But it didn't matter—because he would save them! He would save all of them and then work his way to saving all the Air Temples, even if it took him multiple tries—the Tree would let him do it!

Aang had walked the Southern Temple's halls countless times but never with the reverence consuming him now; he brushed his fingers across the walls that held no dried blood, the ones that hadn't yet witnessed death, sprayed with the gore of its artists. His tears hit the stone floor—the only droplets that would stain the stone. There would never be blood droplets staining it—not this time. He basked in his return, almost screaming in joy, alerting everybody of his presence, but he knew it would only cause panic, doubt, and possibly hysteria if they believed him; it was a physical and spiritual ache that eviscerated him, but he held firm with his stubbornness—because it would save his race in the long-run.

The giddy sensation grew as he extended his senses and was rewarded with feeling all the miraculous life within the temple! But he searched more closely, looking for someone worthy of all the regard in the world. He froze when he felt the familiar, yet almost forgotten presence of the Elders; they were convened for High Council. And there, amongst them, he felt Gyatso.

Aang swallowed and immediately used his airbending to dash to the top of the temple, running up the stairs in a mere moment; he appeared silently before the High Council's doors, but he didn't enter. He jumped to the top where a hole would allow him to watch and listen—the same hole through which he watched and listened when Monk Pasang told Gyatso he would be separated from him. Tears welled in his eyes once more when he saw his mentor standing before the other Elders; the familiar sight lightened his heart, and he couldn't breathe.

He gasped and sank to his knees to contain himself from launching himself at Gyatso, but when he felt the temple shake with his emotion, causing the Elders, including Gyatso, to look around in a panic, he snuffed it out instantly; he bit his fist at seeing Gyatso's face—that beautiful, familiar face he hadn't seen in so long!—peering around, teeth slicing into his knuckles, with enough force to draw blood. He stared at Gyatso with bulging eyes, heart racing so fast he heard nothing else for long moments before his voice croaked against his knuckles: "Gyatso."

He gathered his composure and focused on the High Council; he felt his features contort into a frown when he realized what they were convened about.

The Boy's disappearance.

"That boy is a fool!" Monk Tashi declared angrily, and it was the first time in his memory that Aang had ever agreed with Monk Tashi. "We don't know where he is—nobody does! Or do you know, Gyatso, but have failed to tell us? It wouldn't be the first time that you knew his location and failed to tell us."

Aang didn't know what Monk Tashi was talking about while the rest of the Elders glared at Gyatso with distrust and suspicions. But Gyatso looked serene—but also tall with an almost violent intensity and fury. It astonished him. He never knew that Gyatso was capable of fury. "Aang wasn't wrong to run away. I applaud him—he is himself when you have demanded he never be himself."

"Did you sneak him away, Gyatso?" Monk Roosing demanded, leaning forward. "Did you tell him to run?"

Gyatso looked proud. "No. I was planning to run and take him with me." Aang clamped a hand over his mouth to conceal the agonized moan the escaped him, eyes misting at the fact that if he had waited longer, Gyatso would have run away with him. "But he beat me to it. I raised him to go his own way, and he has—he has chosen to disobey your tyranny."

Monk Yingun's eyes widened before a foul expression crossed his face. "Tyranny? The only tyrant is you, Gyatso! You have doomed us all!"

"You doomed us all!" Gyatso snapped, voice rising, and Aang stared, eyes bulging at the vehement bitterness emanating off Gyatso in waves. "You claim Aang to be the fool, but the only fools are you—all of you! You are not only fools; you are damned fools! We all are because of you—going back centuries! The High Council, including you in its newest—and last—incarnation has led us into the abyss! You have inculcated within Air a dreadful weakness born of a brittle posture and meek understanding! I'm happy Aang has rid himself of you!"

"This is your fault!" Monk Tashi cried out, pointing a wizened finger at Gyatso, and Aang had to restrain himself from marching into the meeting and breaking Monk Tashi's finger; he had never liked Monk Tashi and liked him even less now. "Your rebelliousness has found its way into The Avatar- "

"His name is Aang! He is a boy! He isn't ready for what you want thrust upon him!"

"He is not ready because you made him not ready, Gyatso," Monk Yingun hissed. "Your choices influenced his choices until the only choice he saw was an evil one!"

Gyatso looked unimpressed; he actually looked disgusted, and Aang couldn't understand what was going on. Why was there so much discord amongst the High Council? Why did all the Elders seem combative and hostile towards each other, though it was all directed at Gyatso right now? Why did they seem possessive, except for Gyatso? Why did they remind him of Kuei and the stupid fools in that damned, evil time after the Great War when no one but himself, Zuko, and Hakoda seemed to actually want an honest peace? Why did the Elders seem political rather than practical? Why did they seem unwise rather than wise? Why did they seem like petulant, quarreling children rather than Air's most important and elite monks? Why did they seem so weak and unworthy? Why did they seem ignorant and limited—close-minded—rather than enlightened?

He didn't remember them acting that way when he was younger!

"It was an impulsive choice," Gyatso admitted, voice light and unashamed; he seemed to stand taller and stronger the more abuse that was hurled at him by the other Elders. "But did he have another one? I guarantee you he didn't. He was desperate because you made him desperate! I warned you- "

"I chose to send him to the Eastern Temple to complete his training," Monk Pasang interrupted, voice chiding and on the verge of angry; he seemed more controlled than the other Elders, but it wasn't by much, clearly. "I chose to do what was best for Aang- "

The temple shook due to Aang's bitterness before he restrained himself, narrowly ducking out of the hole at the top of the room when Gyatso looked up. After several moments, he peaked back and returned to his position when Gyatso stared back at the other Elders.

"You chose unwisely, Pasang," Gyatso judged, face clear.

Monk Pasang's eyes narrowed. "I am Air's High Monk- "

"You are high in the clouds rather than here!" Gyatso snapped, and Aang inhaled slowly, fascinated by the words being exchanged angrily between Gyatso and the rest of the High Council. "That would be a wonderful thing if you had any reason or wisdom in your keeping, but you don't! These decisions are on your head, Pasang. I warned you not to do it, but you did it anyway- "

"I do this to save Air!"

Gyatso laughed—actually laughed!—and Aang wasn't the only one staring at him with wide eyes, barely breathing. "Which is it, Pasang? You do it for what's best for Aang or to save Air?"

"They are one in the same! What is best for Aang saves Air, and vice versa."

"No, it's not," Gyatso dismissed with an astonishing ease, and Aang couldn't find anything about his mentor that he recognized. Where was the Gyatso he knew? Or had he ever really known Gyatso? Such a thought chilled his heart with dread. "And you don't do this to save Air, regardless. You are the most damned of fools to claim such a lie, and the worst thing is—I know you believe it. You believe your own lies, Pasang. How is sending Aang away saving Air? It's not. It's the most unwise strategy to save Air! You don't do this to save Air; you do this to get back at me and justify your madness. If you really wanted to save Air, you would demand we evacuate the temple like I have begged you to do and message the other temples to do the same as I have also begged you to do. But you have done neither, content to sit here and not fight, possessed by your pacifism!"

Monk Roosing stood up and pointed a finger at Gyatso. "You are unhinged!"

Gyatso slammed a gust of wind into Monk Roosing, smashing him back in a sitting position. "I was to not try as hard as I should have, but not anymore! This isn't about Aang; this isn't about The Avatar. This is about our idiocy and lack of reason! We still have a chance to evacuate the temple if we act now- "

"We should have never placed you on this council!" Monk Tashi derided, face twisting. "You should have never raised The Avatar! It should have been one of us!"

Gyatso shook his head. "You all had the opportunity to do so; every monk in this temple and the Northern Temple had the chance, but none of you wanted the burden. None of the nuns would have done so if asked. I was the only one across our entire race who wanted to raise him, guide him, and teach him—I was the only one who wanted to be his mentor."

Aang had never known that, leaning back in disbelief. It began to sink in that there was a lot—incalculably a lot!—that he didn't know about his race, specifically the dealings of the High Council and things that had happened in his early years and before his birth.

"You could have changed it, but you never did," Gyatso continued. "But I'm glad you didn't; I'm glad you saw that it would have never worked, regardless. Aang would have never listened to you."

"Damn your rebelliousness!" Monk Yingun snarled. "You nurtured the innate rebelliousness within him that he inherited from his damned parents!"

Aang couldn't breathe; he had never known about his parents, and when he asked, Gyatso would always gently direct his attention to another subject. He had assumed he was like the other Air Nomad boys who didn't know who their parents were, but it was clear by the expressions on everyone's faces that all of them knew his parents—all the High Council, including Gyatso. There was a history they all knew about his parents—perhaps experienced with his parents.

But where were his parents? Who were they? Why did Monks Pasang, Tashi, Yingun, and Roosing seem to hate the reminder of his parents?

"He would always get there on his own," Gyatso replied. "I'm proud of Aang for his decision. You can kill me for my treachery, but I don't care—we will all be dead any day now. If this is my death, it is a life well spent ensuring that Aang isn't how and who you wanted him to be!"

He swore if they attacked Gyatso to kill him—and it seemed they were impossibly considering it by the silence that befell the room—he would intervene and set things straight; he would make them see reason!

"You speak of my arrogance but ignore your own," Monk Pasang said with a quiet insistence. "You think you prepared him for all that he needs to be prepared for—you think you were the perfect mentor. But he still needs training. He is consumed by his childish ignorance, emphasized when he ran away! This is exactly what I wanted to prevent!"

Gyatso shook his head. "You mistake your perception for understanding. You have no understanding of Aang or the situation. You're more knowledgeable than wise! What possible training does he need?"

Monk Pasang's face reddened. "The kind you refused to give. He is too attached! Look at him, running off like this! His spirit is timorous from the rebellion you nurtured in him!"

"You perceive him as The Avatar primarily, which he is; it's all you care about. But why do you treat The Avatar with such oppressive insistence? He is The Avatar; on some level, he knows what he's doing and what he must do."

"Which is what makes him running off so appalling!" Monk Tashi sneered. "We blame you for his weakness!"

"It takes tremendous strength," Gyatso corrected, and Aang swallowed with thick emotion. "He is stronger than any of us—one day, he will see and understand all that is wrong with us. He will redeem us of our excessive failings."

Monk Pasang leaned forward, bald head gleaming. "He cannot do anything until he is trained!"

"What training does he need, Pasang?" Gyatso's chided, and the rebellious disrespect in his tone was so impossible that Aang could only stare and listen, trying desperately to understand; there was so much contextual information he was missing—information he never knew he was missing! "He's The Avatar; every action he makes has significance. He's the fastest Master bender in the history of the races! His airbending is stronger than anyone of our race except for ourselves on the High Council of Elders, and he turned twelve a month ago, and there are several Elders on the council who I suspect would lose to him in a spar. What else of Air does he need? If anything, Aang should have been sent to Water to master waterbending if the situation was dire—as The Avatar Cycle demands. I would take him myself if he were here!"

"No, you would not," Monk Tashi cut in and Aang could feel his own anger mounting; he was prepared to reveal himself, to interrupt them all.

"I would like to see you stop me," Gyatso said quietly, but there was a violent insistence in his voice, a look in his eyes that warned of challenge and danger. "Remember why Roku carved the statue of me here as a gift. But it doesn't matter anymore. That statue will burn, and not even I can rebel and fight forever, not against Sozin's imminent armies under the Great Comet- "

"There will be no attack," Monk Roosing dismissed, and Aang wanted to rant and rage, to reveal himself and tell the truth, but something held him back; he listened, trying to understand. "Not this soon."

Gyatso shook his head with a sigh. "I have done all I can to try to convince you short of violence. I would overthrow your authority myself if there was enough time, but there isn't. All I want is for Aang to find his way without your tyranny, and he has ensured he will—I've never been prouder of him."

Aang gripped the stone to keep his balance, challenged by the emotions boiling inside him. Gyatso was proud of him for running away? For over nine years, he had hated his choice of running away and been ashamed of it, terrified that his race—that Gyatso—died hating him for his choice of running away. But Gyatso was proud of him for running away! He felt rocked to his core because one of the fundamental beliefs he had fashioned his identity and understanding around had crumbled to dust due to watching Gyatso challenge the rest of the High Council, deriding and disavowing them, openly saying he would overthrow them, and proclaiming that Aang running away was the best thing—that he was proud of him for it!

What other fundamental beliefs of his were wrong?

"Your pride in him has led possibly to the ruin of our race!" Monk Tashi hissed.

Gyatso scoffed. "No, your pride has led to our race's ruin. We have heard the whispers for war for years and done nothing. The High Council's pride for generations upon generations has damned us! We have been falling for over a thousand years, and this is the result. But I will die with a smile on my face, knowing that Aang is far from here, seeing through your madness and lies."

"Aang is The Avatar!" Monk Pasang snapped, voice rising. "He must complete his training- "

"He is only a boy!" Gyatso cried out with raw emotion, but Aang could tell that the others were unmoved; he knew Gyatso knew, too. "He just turned twelve; he's not a young man as Roku was before he came here to train and learn with us." Gyatso swept his arm, finger extended in judgment, across all the other seated Elders. "I have watched it happen for years, but I was quiet for Aang's sake—because I knew you were petty enough to take him from me if I criticized you and pointed out the truth! I have seen your eyes judging Aang ever since you met him! The moment you took him from his mother's arms, you have judged him! Even before you secured him, you judged the idea of him. You have assessed and weighed him, pressuring him every day of his life like the predators you are! You've always found him lacking, demanding perfection when you should have demanded it of yourselves before you ever demanded such madness of Aang!"

Aang swallowed as he remembered the Elders' tests that he had always been forced to complete. He had always hated them, but Gyatso had always turned it into a game, making it fun. Had Gyatso always been doing that? Had Gyatso been looking out for him even more than he had been aware of?

"I have said nothing in the past to keep Aang's style of life peaceful, but no more; he's gone because of your judgment! He thought your challenges to him were only fun, effortless games because I made them into games, but he would have learned; he would have lost himself because of it! He needs peace, not order and duty; he needs freedom, as Air preaches but you have all neglected! He needs fun, excitement, and love; he needs to live as a boy before he becomes a man—it's the natural order. Why has The Avatar never been told of his destiny before his sixteenth year? You know why!"

Silence.

"We didn't have a choice, Gyatso," Pasang cut in, looking weary. "Once again, your emotions for the boy are clouding your judgment."

"His name is Aang," Gyatso whispered, looking past the others, gaze hazy. "He is magnificent not only because he's The Avatar; he's magnificent because he's Aang, too. But you have only ever seen his nature, not his form, and we're all going to pay the price. I fear of what's to come because of your idiocy. He's too young to shoulder the weight of the Realms on his shoulders, and he will have to do it without us with him—because you're too prideful to evacuate the temples. Aang's not ready, and no amount of training will make him ready, which is what you also don't understand. He must live as Aang to live as The Avatar—it's the natural cycle! It's what Roku, Kyoshi, Kuruk, Yangchen, Jinzhai, Boruk, Keska, Anil- "

"But the signs of war- "

"Are unavoidable, no matter what," Gyatso replied. "This has many roots, and our demise has many roots, as well. The other races hate us, and our excessive demands to Fire have justified them in their pursuit! Roku aged so rapidly and died so young for an Avatar- "

"Do not bring that up, Gyatso," Monk Tashi derided as he shook his head in disgust. "We have heard the rumors from your lips about what the Fire Lord might have done, but not even the Fire Lord would dare kill The Avatar—or poison him over years. It is unprecedented! We are tired of hearing your theories about Roku; Roku does not matter anymore. Only Aang matters."

"The only way to understand how Aang matters is to understand Roku- "

"When we gave Aang to you, it only enhanced your lunacy! Because we gave him to you, he left during our most dire need when he must begin his training! This is your fault, not ours!"

"I don't condemn Aang's choice, not at all; I'll never condemn it. It was your rash and short-sighted demands that caused it, and he reacted as he needed to. The only thing that I wish to be different would be me joining him." Aang put a hand over his mouth to keep himself from making a distressed noise. "He will save the Realms but not because of what you have done; he will do it on his own."

Monk Pasang stared at Gyatso intently. "He will destroy the world before he saves it without our guidance. Whatever Aang wants or needs doesn't matter when he must save this world; he is The Avatar, and this is his destiny. We must find him and return him so he can begin his training. But this time, you will have no part of him; you will not be allowed anywhere near him. We will execute you before we let you near him."

Aang's fists clenched while Gyatso laughed, staring at the others expectantly. "You know what will happen should you stop me. You know my rebelliousness; you know my willingness to embrace violence, as it's the natural order of things. No, Pasang—I will execute you all before you keep me from him. But it doesn't matter—because Air's time is ending for now. We will be reborn and cured of our excessive afflictions."

"The only affliction we have is the one The Avatar just afflicted us with!" Monk Yingun declared.

Gyatso shook his head mournfully. "You all wish for The Avatar to fix everything; you want Aang to shoulder the fate of the world. You do not want to do anything yourself; you want Aang to do it for us, just as the rest of the races do. We are weaker as a race than we've ever been because of your idiocy and immaturity; your pacifism has become a vice rather than a virtue, and you damn us all because of it." Aang watched, stunned, as his Gyatso didn't even blink at the growing anger of the other Elders, visible by their reddening faces. "But none of you care, not really—not truly. If you cared about the balance of the world, Pasang, as you claim, you would message the other races—at least Earth and Water—of this imminent war. You would tell Sozin that this doesn't end like he thinks it will! He doesn't want a massive war, which will surely happen! We can make peace with him, but you have always denied his offers!"

"The other races despise us!" Monk Pasang retorted. "They lack reason!"

"No, they have all the reasons for their hatred," Gyatso corrected with a soft but assured knowing, and Aang shuddered at the realization that Gyatso not only knew of Water, Earth, and Fire's hatred for Air but believed it justified! It was impossible! What was going on? "You could have at least evacuated and convinced the other temples to evacuate, as well."

"We have no places to go because the other races hate us!"

"But you have done nothing to change that; you have made Air enemies rather than friends, turning your back on our ethics. You could have done many things to avoid this conclusion. Instead, you have done nothing but pressure Aang and try to force the burden on Aang when he isn't ready. You have acted like a child—the High Council has for centuries!"

"It is Air's way to follow the High Council," Monk Tashi barked.

"Is it?" Gyatso challenged. "Even to our damnation, which we have done? Air's way is broken; it has been for a long time—so long. Our isolation has made us outcasts and criminals to the other races; they don't care for us, nor what we think. We neglected our roots, and our roots are gone forever. Only Aang will return us to our roots- "

"You go too far, Gyatso," Monk Pasang warned sternly. "We have heard enough of your dissent. It is clear that you are dangerously unbalanced—unhinged."

Gyatso smiled, and Aang didn't understand how Gyatso was so calm; Aang felt himself bursting inside! "I see clearly. The world has gone terribly wrong; it has been wrong for many centuries—since Kuruk's reign, I believe, if not longer. But we have played an integral part in things going wrong because we stopped trying even before the world went wrong; we lost ourselves. I suspect that no one, not even Roku, ever knew how wrong it was; it has culminated to this moment, to you pushing Aang to run away. We don't know the worst of it, but it will become worse, I fear—so very much worse before it ever gets better."

Aang wanted to reveal how much worse things become, confirm Gyatso's warnings, but he found himself frozen in place, deprived of speech.

"If Aang did not run away, then none of what is to come would happen," Monk Pasang stated evenly. "He would stop it, as is his duty; his training at the Eastern Temple would have made certain of it."

Gyatso paused for several moments before realization appeared, followed by resigned disappointment. "That was your plan—you want Aang to master The Avatar State."

Monk Pasang nodded, looking assured. "Guru Pathik is notorious for his knowledge of such things. Aang would defeat this war before it starts with the mastered Avatar State; he would possess all the power of his predecessors—his to direct at whom we please."

Aang's eyes narrowed because Monk Pasang resembled Kuei more than he did anyone else, but Gyatso shook his head, clearly unsurprised. "He isn't your weapon, Pasang. It is his inheritance to do with as he sees fit. We have no say in how he uses it. And Aang is not meant to master The Avatar State until he masters all of the elements! That is how it is! The Avatar isn't meant to have uncontrolled access to such power until he is ready." Something astonished and disbelieving crossed Gyatso's face. "Do you truly think that you could control that power, The Avatar's power, and actually direct it at whom you please? Even if you could convince Aang to surrender authority to you, do you think, actually think, that Roku or Kyoshi would let that happen? Do you think that Kuruk would let our race hold The Avatar's power for our own? We know how Kuruk felt about us."

"We can make it work," Monk Pasang said with stubbornness. It was clear to Aang the only thing left that Monk Pasang had left was his stubbornness.

He realized he felt similarly, to his horror.

"No, you cannot!" Gyatso cried out. "He is The Avatar! You try to harness powers beyond yourselves!"

"He is the greatest prodigy of whom we have ever heard, Gyatso," Monk Tashi cut in, voice adamant with rightness. "He will succeed; nothing else will be accepted."

"That's unspeakable arrogance!"

"It is the truth."

Gyatso looked disgusted and enraged; it was a shocking combination he never imagined Gyatso was capable of. "This is a theory you use to justify your incompetence and insularity! You're enslaved to surfaces rather than discovering the roots! Aang may be immortal with strength, power, and knowledge beyond our conceptions, but he is as mortal as the rest of us; he fears and doubts as we do. He craves love and affection. He is only a boy!"

"He should have stayed and not indulged in the rebelliousness you put in him!" Pasang stood to his feet, face carved with deep scorn and fury. "Then we could have warded off the invasion that will undoubtedly come with him here because The Avatar State would be triggered by any attack, and he would destroy the invasion!"

"Aang isn't to blame for not being here!" Gyatso shouted, voice ringing in the air with an insistence, and Aang realized that Gyatso used airbending to enhance the sound and quality, trying to force the others to actually, actively listen. "You think it, but you're wrong. We are to blame, not him—never him. It withers my heart knowing that he will blame himself, but he should not. This is our fault, not his. The only faults he has are the ones Roku left him, none of which are actually his faults. He can't hope to face Sozin's warriors yet, not on the day of the Great Comet itself with only his airbending! The Fire Lord's power is beyond any other Firebender, and on that day, which could be any day now, his strength will be augmented beyond anything that any of us have ever imagined. If he entered The Avatar State, he would crush the army, yes, but the impact it will have on him is beyond words; it will devastate him forever, and he won't be the same ever again. And you might just get your damned wish—he might not be Aang ever again, the Aang I raised and love."

"The Great Comet?" Monk Tashi snorted in derision. "The Fire Lord would not dare invade on that day; he cannot do anything to us! He can threaten all he wants, as he has, to return to him Fire's penance for Houka's crime, but he will never actually attack. Fire will never touch Air again. We ensured it by demanding Fire's penance; we have protected ourselves and weakened Fire simultaneously! Even if they did attack, we would destroy that which they surely seek! They are enslaved to their love of gold!"

Gyatso stared at the others with painful incomprehension. "And we are not?" he asked, voice quiet with disbelief. "Don't you see? We have made Fire our enemy. We made ourselves their enemy, and we have done nothing to befriend the other races, making ourselves their enemies, too. If any of them held fondness for us, I'd be shocked. We've done nothing to earn it, and I say we're entirely unworthy of any regard they might hold for us."

"The Avatar was born to us in his newest life. If the Fire Lord was wise, he would remember that fact and understand that if he attacked us, we would have the ultimate defender on our side, who would annihilate the Fire Lord and his attackers. Even if he threatened us or said anything we disprove of, we would send The Avatar after him to eliminate him. Our other eliminations did not work, but The Avatar would not fail—we all know it, and the Fire Lord knows it, as well."

Aang stared, unblinking, trying to process everything that was happening; he felt overwhelmed with all the information and contextual knowledge being mentioned, but he had no idea how it all fit together.

He just felt numb—because nothing was like how he had expected.

Gyatso laughed, though there was a tinge of hysteria to it. "Sozin does know, and it's the justification he uses to invade! He's going to invade while he still can—because with each year that passes, Aang becomes more mature and stronger, reducing any advantage Fire holds. He knows this, and he's planned accordingly. You're an arrogant fool, Tashi, to think otherwise. I believe Sozin killed Roku, and he will try to kill Aang; he wants to restore Fire to its prominence, which we stole from them. But it's even deeper. There is something dark going on; there is something deeper and bigger that has powerful, impervious roots. This has been growing for centuries, festering, and it culminates now. This is a historical time to be alive—and in which to die. This is bigger than Sozin—I know it. But Sozin will attack us to get to Aang because The Avatar scares Sozin; he's terrified of The Avatar."

Aang nodded in agreement—Sozin needed to be scared of him.

Monk Tashi sneered. "You are delusional! Your mind has- "

"What are you saying, Gyatso?" Monk Pasang interrupted, sitting back down.

"I have already told you," Gyatso said, body tense with righteous anger. "I have told you for years, and it's too late now. We will lose much; we will lose everything. We already lost Aang, but our race will be lost, too, I fear. But from the ashes, new life will rise—a new Air, a restored Air, a healthy Air—will rise. They will be so much more beautiful than we are. We are impure to the core, but they will be so pure and lovely to behold—I saw it in my dreams. This evil will evoke an undeniable, overwhelming beauty, for Air will be better than ever before—because of Aang. We will all be redeemed from our foolish actions; we will be redeemed for losing our way. And I'm happy to die with that knowledge. Are you?"

Monk Pasang was quiet for a moment, features frowning deeply. "I think you have said enough, Gyatso. Leave us so that we can meditate in peace."

Gyatso tilted his head up. "You will have plenty of time to do that, Pasang, in the Gardens of the Dead after the temples burn and we are all but ash, and the winds you think you own sweep us away."

Aang watched, stunned, as Gyatso didn't give the other Elders time to respond as he walked out of the room without looking back.

"He is the fool above all fools!" Monk Tashi spat once Gyatso was gone, and Aang found that he couldn't leave, not yet. "His coddling of The Avatar has ruined us all!"

"His heart has been dangerously corrupted," Monk Pasang agreed slowly. "His enlightenment has fled him; he is now no longer a member of the High Council."

"He never had enlightenment! He was always rebellious! He should be excommunicated, as well; he is the cause of this! And if not excommunication, execution!"

"We will see, Tashi."

Aang hated the Elders in that moment, astonishing him; he had never felt particular fondness for them as an entity, which is what they clearly were, one with strong political presence, but he loved them because they were of his race. But it was clear to see that the Elders knew about the Great War, as he had always suspected, but what he had never suspected was that they did nothing about it! They didn't warn anyone! They didn't raise the alarm! They didn't prepare! They simply sat passively by and let the Great War destroy them, trusting in the impure worth of what they perceived as a mere rumor!

For once, he understood why the other races might possibly resent his race, which was a chilling realization. What were the Elders thinking? How could they be so unwise and unreasonable, so stubborn and short-sighted? How could they be so possessed by unintelligence? Were the Elders of the other Air Temples like that?

His emotions reacted, strengthening the wind around him, which began to shred his Water Tribe garbs; he reluctantly restrained himself, trying to keep control. All he wanted to do was rant and rage, scream at the Elders for answers and validation, but he knew he couldn't; he needed something more. To confront the High Council was something he was certainly—certainly!—capable of, but he didn't trust them to tell him the truth, not now. There was only one person in existence he trusted enough to be honest with him.

Gyatso.

Joy and anxiety mingled inside him at the thought of speaking to his mentor, but he controlled his emotions; he had much practice at it. He jumped off the stone ledge that enabled him to spy on the High Council and landed soundlessly on the ground; he tried to catch Gyatso as he ran through the halls, being sure to stick to the corners and shadows, prepared to vanish if seen, but Gyatso was nowhere to be found. After a moment of thought, he darted towards Gyatso's quarters, which were on the upper levels but not the level that he was currently on; he would need to descend.

Aang knew the route by heart, for after he had remodeled the Southern Temple after the Great War, he had claimed Gyatso's room for his own. Knowing that time was crucial, he stretched his senses to make sure that Gyatso was in his room, but to his shock, it was empty! Desperately, feeling his senses shift, he focused everywhere in the temple and halted when he found his mentor.

Gyatso was in the Boy's room.

He blinked back the sudden onslaught of emotion that threatened to overwhelm him in a hazy mist. Slowly, he gathered his composure and descended the stairs and entered the hallway but froze when the air currents shifted; he felt a warm body approaching. He felt the presence for a brief moment and when he realized that it wasn't Gyatso, he grit his teeth and swiftly used his earthbending to conceal himself in the wall; he created a small hole for his eyes.

It was an older man, around Gyatso's own age, and Aang finally placed him after several moments—Afiko, a monk around whom he had never felt safe in his life. When Afiko was around, Aang had always latched onto Gyatso, scared of how Afiko would look at him and no one else—looking at him like he knew a dark, contemptible truth. And looking back, there was clearly no love between Afiko and Gyatso, who barely seemed to tolerate Afiko. There were even times when he had stumbled upon Afiko and Gyatso in an intense conversation, faces stoic, but their eyes were angry.

Afiko walked past him in the wall, unaware, and Aang was struck by the lightness in Afiko's stride, the unable-to-be-contained delight on his face. Afiko had always walked very heavily for an Airbender, weighed down by something, but he seemed liberated and happy. What would cause the sudden change?

Was it the Boy's disappearance?

It seemed possible considering Afiko's contempt for him, but something told him that it was deeper. It was as if Afiko was antsy, waiting for something. His eyes did not look forward to see his surroundings; they looked forward to see something coming that no one else could see—it was clear by the way he looked! It reminded Aang of himself because all he could see was the Attack, which was imminent, never his actual surroundings—because the Attack was all that mattered. But what could Afiko possibly see coming that no one else could?

The realization was blinding in its intensity, and Aang swallowed thickly; it was impossible for anyone but an Airbender or sky bison to reach the Air Temples. Only Air Nomads knew the location of the temples, and Aang had always wondered how Sozin's armies had found his race, and now, he knew why. He stiffened at the memory of the maps etched onto the scrolls in Sozin's private study, depicting the layout of all the Air temples—a knowledge that could only be provided by an Air Nomad himself and no one else. Sozin had received help in invading the Air Temples, timing it perfectly, thinking of everything—because he had an agent inside of Air.

He had considered such a thing previously but always discarded it because he had never conceived that the agent was an actual Air Nomad, but it made too much sense! The clues pieced together with an unholy precision—it was the truth! The dragons reached the Air Temples because someone within Air had betrayed their race.

He had found the Betrayer.

Aang slid out of the wall behind Afiko, ignorant to his imminent death, but he did nothing—because all he possessed were suspicions, not answers, not the truth, not evidence. He possessed no proof that Afiko had betrayed the Air Nomads, that he was the reason why Sozin's armies were so successful under Sozin's Comet; he had only suspicious theories based on his own doubts. He stood, immobile, watching as Afiko turned a corner and vowed to confront Afiko later—even if Afiko wasn't the Betrayer, he remained a possible enemy due to his contempt for him.

Shaking his head, clearing away the whispers, he dashed through the hallway and came to halt when the hauntingly familiar ingress appeared; it was the Boy's room, a room he had never been able to enter after the Great War. Aang swallowed outside the entrance, watching the light shimmer inside at the corner of where he could see, trying to gather his courage to face his mentor—the one thing he had wanted more than anything in existence.

He stepped into the Boy's room.

Gyatso sat hunched over the Pai Sho board, back facing him, and Aang trembled, quivering the air around him as he tried to keep from launching himself at Gyatso; he felt strangled by the emotions surging through him. It was a miracle! It was the greatest moment of his life!

It was only the two of them, and Aang fell to his knees, breathing swift and choppy, and he searched for the words to speak, to culminate in a reunion he had longed for forever. But there were no words as it was too overwhelming; there was only a name.

"Gyatso," he whispered, voice choked.

But Gyatso didn't turn around in joy and embrace him as Aang expected; Gyatso sat with his back to him still, but the fact his body stiffened alerted him that Gyatso had heard him. But why did Gyatso not react as he should have?

He realized why swiftly—Gyatso didn't recognize his voice, much deeper and stronger than the Boy's. He was a man now with a man's voice, and Gyatso couldn't possibly recognize him by the sound of his voice when he only knew the Boy's voice.

"I thought I made myself clear," Gyatso said, voice cold, darkened with a deep fury—but there was an even deeper sadness. "I will be alone as our race dies. I warned you all, but you dismissed my concerns. You're more arrogant than Sozin himself. Because of you, because of your folly, Aang is gone. Wherever he is, he will be lost, and he will feel it so deeply it's a presence to him. Our absence will be a presence in his life, but it could have been avoided if you weren't possessed by idiocy. He will be so confused, anguished, angry, and hurt—because I won't be there, and none of us will be. He will be alone because Sozin won't leave any stone unturned."

Aang swallowed and rose achingly to his feet. "He's not alone anymore."

Gyatso jerked back to look at him, but froze upon seeing him, registering his appearance; Gyatso's eyes—they were his eyes, whose beauty and kindness he realized he had forgotten!—roamed him. "Who are you?"

"Gyatso, it's me," he stressed, voice breaking. "It's Aang; I'm Aang."

When Gyatso looked distrustful, eyes rooting on his headband and beard, Aang pulled off his headband and lifted up his hair to reveal his arrowhead, pulled up his sleeves to reveal the rest of the tattoo of mastery, and wished he could rip off his beard but knew it wouldn't help; he looked so little like the Boy—thankfully! But for the first time in forever, he wanted to look exactly like the Boy; he wanted to be that stupid boy—all so Gyatso would stare at him with love rather than doubt.

"It's me, Gyatso," he breathed, voice faltering. "How can I prove myself to you?"

"Aang can accomplish things no mortal can. If you can, as well, you are Aang."

Aang understood the vague allusion and sat on an airball; he held out one of his flaming hands and pulled water from Gyatso's glass into his other hand; and he raised a small stool of stone for Gyatso, who slackened in shock, to sit on. He also shifted the wall, sealing them in the Boy's room, giving them privacy, keeping them from being interrupted.

He smiled, feeling in awe and amazed. "It's me, Gyatso; it's Aang. I'm me- "

He grunted at the impact of Gyatso's sudden hug, which felt more incredible and loving than anything he remembered. It brought tears to his eyes.

"Oh, my boy," Gyatso breathed, holding him, and Aang held him back—he would never let go. "How is this possible?"

"I did it," he croaked, tears misting in his eyes; his heart beat for the first time since he learned the truth of the Attack. He felt restored and soothed, nourished and comforted. "We're together again."

Gyatso pulled back slightly and smiled up at him, beaming with joy. "Aang, how are you like this? You are appear twenty years older now."

"Nine years older," he corrected quickly. "It's just the beard. Do you know what the Tree of Time is?"

"Yes."

He beamed with pride and joy, unsurprised by Gyatso's prestigious knowledge. No one was better than Gyatso. "I used It to come back—to come home—and fix everything."

Gyatso was silent for a long time, and Aang feared that Gyatso didn't understand what happened—how he accomplished the miracle above all miracles—before Gyatso sat down on the stool he had made. "And the war goes poorly? It's lost within nine years?"

Aang shook his head, inhaling slowly; he knew he would have to explain everything, but it hit him all at once how big an undertaking it was. He sat across from Gyatso. "No, I didn't come back nine years for the world; I came back nine years for me."

"But for the sake of the world- "

"No, nine years to me is a lot longer than the world," he interrupted. "To the world and everyone else, I came back 109 years."

Gyatso's brows rose, but he didn't seem overwhelmed, which was a relief. "I knew The Avatar aged slowly, but you are the complete opposite of Roku and his aging- "

Aang laughed, though there was twinge of hysteria in it; he heard it clearly, and he knew Gyatso did, too. "No, that's not it. I was asleep for a century in the ocean."

Silence.

Gyatso's keen gray eyes assessed him for several tense moments before he nodded with a stiff jerk of his head. "The Avatar State?"

"I trapped myself in it," he confessed, ashamed; he wouldn't tell Gyatso that he did it to the Boy yet, for he was still trying to wrap his mind around it. "There was a storm, and I was pulled in."

"Must have been a powerful storm," Gyatso commented, voice even, revealing nothing; it was intimidating. The dynamics between them had changed clearly, for he wasn't the Boy anymore, and Gyatso wasn't necessarily the mentor he remembered.

He had never interacted with Gyatso as an adult—as a man.

"The most powerful," he agreed.

"And you came back," Gyatso echoed, clearly trying to put the pieces together and make sense of something impossible. "You came back to save us."

"Yes," Aang confirmed, almost sagging in relief that Gyatso understood so easily. "I'm going to change everything from happening, and I'm going to save our race. We're extinct—but not this time. Never again. I'm here to save us! It's the greatest day of my life."

He wouldn't vocalize his intention to kill Sozin yet—he would build to it. Gyatso still looked for the Boy, certainly, and Aang had to take Gyatso's feelings into consideration in how to notify him with the news that he was as far away from the Boy as possible—thankfully!

Gyatso stared at the Water Tribe garbs. "Did you live with Water in your time?"

"No, I've been around," he replied vaguely, unsure how to tell Gyatso of all his numerous exploits since returning to his right time. "I used the Tree to travel back and appeared on the continent. Then I traveled from east to west, went to the Fire Nation, went to the South, and came here. I borrowed these garbs while in the South."

"Why the South?"

"Because that's where the Boy is; it's where he rests in the ocean."

Gyatso smiled slightly, though his gray eyes shadowed with sorrow. "You wanted to go penguin-sledding, I'm guessing."

Aang swallowed and felt a wave of emotion at how well Gyatso knew him—or the Boy, rather; he controlled his tears. "He did."

For some reason, Gyatso's head tilted before his eyes danced as a laugh erupted past his lips. "My boy, you have grown so much." Gyatso reached across and placed a warm hand against his bearded cheek. "Look at you. You're a fully realized Avatar at such a young age; your predecessors have only ever mastered, at most, two elements by your age. Oh, Aang, I am so proud of you, just as I have always been."

He felt uncomfortable from the praise because Gyatso shouldn't be proud of him, not at all! If Gyatso knew of the crimes and sins he had committed, he wouldn't be proud of him! It was why he would never tell Gyatso!

He smiled tightly. "I'm here to atone for my mistakes- "

It suddenly seemed to hit Gyatso all at once—the miracle of Aang's presence. "I never thought I would see you again!" Gyatso exclaimed, standing to his feet with an awed expression on his face. "You are so big now! You are a man—and with a beard and mustache! And you have so much hair on your head—and black hair, too!"

A deep shame gnawed at him. "I know. It looks more Fire than Air. It's not light like everyone else's would be."

Gyatso waved a hand. "Nonsense, Aang! Your hair is as Air as the rest of you, and your beard is lighter, more resembling the 'typical' Air Nomad, anyway. And look how tall you are—taller than I ever thought, though I shouldn't be surprised. And you came all this way without the use of a glider, didn't you?"

"I ran," he admitted with a slight smile.

A sad smile crossed Gyatso's face. "Is that why you're so thin? When was the last time you ate and drank?"

Aang shook his head. "That doesn't matter—we're wasting time! Sozin's Comet—I mean, the Great Comet—is coming soon! The temple's going to be attacked, and we need to prepare!" The primal determination surged through him and must have shown on his face as Gyatso sat straighter. "I'm going to save us all."

"Why?" Gyatso questioned, surprising him.

He sputtered in disbelief for several moments. "Why? Because you're all going to die if I don't save you! We'll be extinct! I'm here to save us all! Where's your urgency?"

"Aang, what are you doing?" Gyatso asked gently but sternly. "This is wrong. What you have done is wrong. You know this."

"No, it's not! I'm stopping my mistake! I'm going to destroy Sozin before he destroys you!"

"Oh, Aang," Gyatso breathed. "Sozin didn't destroy us; we destroyed ourselves."

He had no idea what Gyatso was talking about and ignored it. "I can change this!"

"Should you?"

Aang felt burned. "Of course, I should! That's a stupid question!"

Gyatso laughed. "You are more Firebender now, I see; you are now you, which is all the elements. To deny yourself is a painful path; to deny your nature is unwise."

He looked away from Gyatso's knowing, perceptive, piercing eyes in disbelief; he felt betrayed! But he knew it was because Gyatso didn't understand yet. "I'm doing what I have to. You don't understand—I don't expect you to understand right now—but you will later."

"I understand, Aang."

"You clearly don't," he pointed out, voice bitter—he couldn't help it! Why did even the greatest moment of his life have to be hard? He was tired of things being hard! "But you will in time—because we have all the time in existence. I've made it so; I'm being an immortal, as I should be."

Gyatso laughed slightly before sitting at the Pai Sho board; he patted the position across from him. "Sit, Aang. There is much to discuss, I gather."

Aang sat down in frustration, not understanding anything! Why was Gyatso acting so calm? He had confirmed that Air was murdered, leaving only himself, but Gyatso felt no urgency to change it; he seemed to not even care! What was going on? "Don't you get it?" he asked, leaning forward and knocking some of the tiles off the board. "Air's gone because of me, and I'm here to fix it; our race is a damned memory in the eyes of the world. No one cares about Air except for me! And I'm here because I care! I love you!"

"Why do you change What Is, Aang?" Gyatso challenged, eyes locked onto him with all the presence he had ever wanted. But it wasn't going like he wanted! "You think you know better than Time—it's an affliction we all feel at one point or another—but you don't know better than Time."

His jaw clenched, trying so hard—so desperately—to understand why Gyatso wasn't on his side. Out of anyone to ever live and die, Gyatso should be on his side! Why wasn't he? Why was he challenging rather than accepting? Why did he look at him differently than when he used to? Gyatso should understand and sympathize; he should agree and praise him, like he did when he was younger!

What was going on?

"The Tree let me come back," he answered slowly. "I used my free will to use It's power, and I came back; It let me do it. It said It wouldn't deny my free will."

Gyatso closed his eyes for several moments, and when they opened, he looked older. "You have already created a new life for yourself- "

"That's not a life!" he shouted, disgusted and appalled that Gyatso spoke of things he knew little of. "It's a disgrace! It's a terror! It's a horror! It's evil! I want that damned time to die! I'm finally home, Gyatso. Why can't you see that?"

"What was your home isn't always your home."

"Yes, it is," he responded, stunned at the impossibility that was happening. He had never imagined that Gyatso would disagree with him. It was insanity! "This is home; it's where I belong and feel love. It's where I feel settled and have a reprieve from the darkness of the world. I know you think I made a 'home' in that damned, evil time, but I didn't—because you weren't there! None of you were! I was the last one—the last of us all! There was no one else. I had Appa and Momo, but that's it. And Momo's a flying-lemur. Don't you get it, Gyatso? There are no more Airbenders because of me! All our lineages are extinct except mine, and I'm not enough; I'm unworthy and evil! But I can fix it all now—I'm going to. I have all the power. I'm ready!"

Gyatso looked somber. "You do have all the power, Aang," he agreed. "But even if you do this- "

"There is no if."

"- you're still going to feel unsettled as you so clearly are. You must forgive yourself. There is no sense in punishing yourself for the mistakes of the past, over which you had no control. In order to heal, you must first forgive yourself."

"I'm not here to forgive myself! I'm here for atonement!"

"Your attention is directed outward rather than inward; look inward, Aang- "

Aang jumped to his feet. "No! None of that nonsense!" he snapped, marching toward the doorway. "I'm going to save everyone! Come on, you can help me explain the truth to everyone!"

When he reached his doorway, Gyatso called out: "Aang, sit down."

He whirled around in betrayal. "No. I know you're my mentor, but you don't understand- "

Gyatso's head tilted. "Has it ever crossed your mind that you might not understand?"

Aang sprang back as if burned. "What kind of question is that? That's ridiculous! I'm the only one who understands!"

"What happens when understanding becomes misunderstanding?"

He clasped his hands over his ears, shaking his head rapidly. "No! Stop it! No riddles, Gyatso. Please. Help me do what I need to do. You're the only one I trust."

Gyatso sighed, and a worn, ancient expression crossed his face. "You're the only one I trust to still make the right decision with this kind of power. If you were anyone else, I would kill you."

His lips parted in surprise, and he felt naked under Gyatso's gaze; all the layers and protection he had wrapped around himself for years melted away. No one had ever been able to do it except for Gyatso. "What?" he managed to say in a gasp. "Why would you kill- "

"This is unholy," Gyatso said simply. "It's not right; it's unnatural. You defy What Is."

"Of course, I do!" he cried out.

"The Tree let this pass for a reason- "

For the first time in his life, he was honest fully and completely, letting the truths he had always smothered and ignored, pretended weren't there, rip out of him with roars of defiance and presence, bleeding past his lips, arising from his heart. "The Tree is Evil! We should be free from It's enslavement of us! It's the tyrant of Life! Fuck the Tree!"

Gyatso's brows furrowed, and a mourning crossed his face, which evoked Aang's guilt because he realized what it meant—Gyatso realized completely that Aang wasn't the Boy anymore. "You've not had much peace, have you, Aang?" Gyatso whispered, staring at him with gentle sympathy and kindness—it was more than he deserved!

He whirled away from Gyatso, breathing heavily; he placed his hand against the wall, pressing strongly into the smooth stone. "I don't know what peace is," he choked out, struggling for control; he knew he was failing as the room shook slightly. "I can't remember what peace is. I know I had it once, but I lost it, and it was me who lost it! It was my fault, at the end of the day—because that boy is such a stupid, pathetic fool."

"That boy was the greatest gift of my life- "

"Don't," Aang said, voice strangled by emotion. "That boy should have never been born—I'd kill him if I was noble enough. The war that's coming is called the Great War, and I saw its end—I know what it took from the world; I know what it took from me. I lost everything to the Great War, but I'm the cause of the Great War—it's my fault. I'm stopping it. It's the only way for peace. Sparing Air its murder is worth whatever price I have to pay."

"Do you truly believe that, Aang, or have you forced yourself to instead of accepting what has happened?"

The wall cracked under his hand, and he glared back at Gyatso, betrayed. "How can you say that? You should be on my side! Stop challenging me! I know what I'm doing! I'm The Avatar!"

A sad smile crossed Gyatso's face before it faded. "You are," he confirmed softly. "I am so proud of you, Aang, proud of the man and Avatar you are. I have always been proud of you; you've been a gift in my life—to my life. You are my pride and joy. You were always ahead of everyone, wise beyond your years, and that's why I know you can do it—you can do the right thing. There are many good things to do here, but there is only one right thing. You must embrace wisdom now; you must let go of the past. Grasping at the past with all your desperation, as you are doing now, won't revive Air; it won't return Air, either, like I know you think. You must stop dwelling on What Was and accept What Is. Only then will you have peace."

Aang shook in place as tears spilled out of his eyes and sloped down his cheeks into his beard. "Do you know what it means to accept What Is? Do you know how many people I've killed?" he whispered, unable to recognize his voice; it sounded shrill and broken. "Do you know what I've done?"

Gyatso's face pinched. "No."

"I know!" he cried out, hoarse and raw. "And I can't tell you—I can't! You would look at me like you don't know me! Every choice I've ever made since I learned I'm The Avatar has been wrong, Gyatso! And it's because I'm The Avatar—a blight on the world! I should die forever! The Avatar's evil; I hate The Avatar. And I've damned Air all over again by marrying a woman I should kill instead—because The Avatar caused the entire situation by provoking Sozin!"

"Who is your wife?" Gyatso asked with patience, looking interested. "What's her name?"

Aang didn't want to think of Azula, not at all! "She doesn't matter- "

"I think she does."

"You're wrong."

"Tell me why I'm not."

"Because she's an heir of Sozin!" he erupted and cursed when he realized that Gyatso had pulled the information out of him so easily.

Gyatso blinked before smiling, looking into the distance. "That's very interesting."

"It's disgusting," Aang hissed, ashamed. "Look what I've done to us! I've ruined us again! I've mired us in filth and atrocity—and that doesn't even include my evil! And all my fears about her were justified when, immediately after I stupidly married her, she started sabotaging Air just like Sozin did! The Tree says that she's not going to betray me, but the Tree is full of dragonshit!"

"But you love her- "

"It doesn't matter," he snapped. "She doesn't matter. Only Air matters—only our race matters!"

Gyatso seemed remarkably tranquil. "Does she love you?"

Aang flinched and shook his head. "It doesn't matter- "

"Aang."

"She died for me," he confessed, looking away and failing not to remember the way Azula intercepted Ozai's lightning strike and the way her corpse felt in his arms. "She took a killing blow meant for me, that would have connected, and died in my place."

Gyatso's eyes crinkled. "I would like to know the name of the woman who loved you so powerfully."

He closed his eyes. "Azula."

"I'm sorry Azula died, Aang- "

"I brought her back," he interrupted, ashamed. "I killed Agni and Devi and searched for her spirit in limbo during the time I had, and I pulled her back and fastened her spirit to her body again. I returned her."

Gyatso smiled. "That's incredible- "

"I did it because I love her," Aang acknowledged, looking back at Gyatso. "I love her more than anyone in that damned, evil time. She's one of the only tolerable things about that disgusting place. And I did the impossible for her because I loved her. It only reminded me that I need to do the impossible for you because I love you—infinitely more than I'll ever love her. I went to the Tree for answers and realized I could attain atonement instead. It's all that matters—nothing else does."

"Aang, you can't do this- "

"I already saved Azula—the precedent is there. It's within my power."

Gyatso sighed but nodded. "It is. But Azula is different than us- "

"I know!" he shouted, throwing his arms to the side. "It's all I've thought about! She's beautiful on the outside, but she's rotten on the inside; she reeks—because of her blood, which she'd pass to my children, the new generations of Air! I've thought about it more than anyone ever can, Gyatso!"

"No, no, Aang," Gyatso whispered, pained. "Remember our wisdom. To think so deeply on a problem never reveals answers- "

"Only more problems," he finished, voice soft in recollection, and the agony ravished his mind. He was such a failure. "I forgot that. But that's just it! I've forgotten so much about our race, and it's because that damned, evil time is devoid of you! It's devoid of Air! The only two people who I actually like in that stupid place are two of Sozin's heirs—it's disgusting! Everyone else is pathetic and weak! They are rotten! I hate them all! I'm never going to forget you again! You are so much better than everyone else!"

"Memory has never been your problem," Gyatso corrected with knowing eyes. "Understanding has always been your problem. Your grasp of knowledge is extraordinary; you can recite every annal across all the Air Temples. But you don't understand the teachings therein, Aang—you were too young. But you can learn; you can learn now."

Aang shook his head. "I'll do that after I save you. I'm going to ensure that nothing evil's going to happen again. I won't marry Azula- "

"You brought her back for a reason- "

"I'm saving you for infinitely more reasons!"

Gyatso stared at him. "It is different."

"No, it's the same," he stressed. "It's me saving someone I love, and it's me saving those I love. It's perfect."

"How?"

"Isn't The Avatar all about balance?" he challenged.

Gyatso was quiet for a long time before speaking. "Roku visited me the first time I met you, and you were only months old, already airbending; he appeared in your place, and I'd never seen him so saddened. He said: 'Do not fail him as I have, Gyatso. Help him and love him. He must do what I could not.' And I swore to do as he said, but I'm sorry that I failed."

"You didn't fail me- "

"I did if you have become possessed by these ideas you espouse, as you so clearly are," Gyatso murmured, looking ancient and agonized. "I'm sorry, Aang."

Aang's jaw clenched as he shook his head. "I don't accept your apology—because there shouldn't be an apology from you. There should be an apology from me! This is me apologizing! I'm going to save you and redeem us; I'm going to atone for my mistakes!"

Gyatso exhaled roughly. "This isn't the way to do that. This isn't atonement; it's dissolution. It means you learn nothing, for you will not live with your mistakes, which is the only atonement possible—if there must be atonement, which you believe."

"Because it's too much!" He gripped the sides of his head, fingers curling into his hair. "I can't keep living like this, Gyatso! I'm going out of my mind! I've been going out of my mind ever since I learned I'm The Avatar. I'm going to save our race, which is the greatest and most beautiful- "

Gyatso laughed slightly, surprising him. "Then you must go elsewhere because the race you seek to save isn't the race that's here."

He stared at him in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"You love your vision of us more than us, which means you love yourself more than us."

"How can you say that?" he breathed, shaken.

"Because you can't accept us as we are, and I suspect you've had many opportunities since your return to this time to do so." Aang's mind flashed with the various accusations against his race thrown at him by seemingly everyone but a select few across the world. "You can't see that we are victims of ourselves, Aang, not victims of Sozin."

Aang stared at Gyatso, disbelieving, head shaking, heart breaking. "No, I saw your skeleton," he whispered. "I saw it and saw what happened; I know. It was Sozin. I'm not going to let that happen."

Gyatso's head tilted. "To spare me or to spare you?"

He flinched. "Both."

"But one more than the other."

The tears were quick as they ran down his cheeks, fueled by the memories assaulting his mind worse than any rape. "I saw you laying there; I know it was you. Even without your flesh and facial features, your mustache, I know it was you; I knew. And it was the worst moment of my life, and I'm going to spare myself from that evil, the greatest evil to ever ravish me; it raped me of everything I ever was and am. It wasn't getting shot by lightning and almost dying; it wasn't going into the Iceberg; it wasn't being hunted for being The Avatar; it wasn't putting our race to rest and giving them their proper burials; it wasn't restoring the Air Temples by myself and realizing how much I've never known about Air and how much I never paid attention; it wasn't what I did to Ba Sing Se; it wasn't marrying Azula, even though I knew I shouldn't have. What it was is seeing you and realizing—knowing—what happened."

Gyatso hummed, seeming remarkably unaffected by hearing of his evil fate. "What did you do to Ba Sing Se, Aang?"

He threw his arms to the side, bracing himself on the wall; it felt more real than it ever had since his Awakening. "I murdered it and everyone in it. I slaughtered millions, and I didn't care, not in the moment when Appa was dead and I was enraged; I descended into wrath." Aang slid down the wall, beginning to weep. "I did it!" he cried out, voice trembling. "It was me! Me! I did it! I murdered Ba Sing Se! All those people—men, women, and children who didn't deserve any of it! What have I become? I'm Sozin!"

He immediately wanted to take back his confession, rescind the words he uttered, but it was too late. Gyatso's eyes were closed, and the indescribably agony on his face made Aang want to die—why wasn't he noble enough to kill himself? Damn him! Damn The Avatar! Because it was surely The Avatar that stayed his hand from suicide because Aang would do it, but The Avatar refused to allow it! It was the only explanation.

Tears spilled out of Gyatso's closed eyes, sliding down his cheeks, and his breathing sputtered, heart freezing in horror—Aang felt it as it happened. It was the realization of the truth—it's how Aang felt upon realizing Air's murder.

He hated himself for making Gyatso feel that way. "I did it," he confirmed brokenly in a pained whisper. "Appa was killed, and I broke the world. I brought him back, but it didn't change what I did. Everyone hates me—but never as much as I hate myself."

"But you pulled yourself out and recognize the severe errors of your actions," Gyatso said finally, voice raw and withered with haunted emotion.

"But you don't recognize yours!" Aang snapped, trying to get away from the memory of Ba Sing Se. "I'm not going to just let you stay and be killed! I'm not going to see your skeleton again! I'm sparing both of us from that fate!"

Gyatso shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut for a long time before they opened; there was something different on his face. "But you condemn us to the Great War, instead."

Aang blinked and wiped away his tears. "What? No, I'm going to stop the Great War! I'm going to kill Sozin and end all of it; I'm going to make sure it doesn't happen."

Gyatso shook his head. "You murdering the Fire Lord will only infuriate Fire, who has incredible power; if you murder Sozin, no one of Fire will doubt Sozin's claims of The Avatar's evil. You play into his hands. When you think you win, you actually lose."

Aang shook his head in return. "But at least you'd still be alive."

"Saving us is a mistake- "

"Then it's a mistake worth making! It's worth it if you're alive! I don't care about my reputation or what the world thinks of me."

"That makes a dangerous Avatar."

His fists clenched. "Maybe I should be dangerous. Then Sozin, Vaatu, Agni, and Ozai would think twice before committing their evil."

Gyatso leaned back. "Vaatu?"

"My great enemy," he revealed, sagging. "The world's great enemy. He's put all of this in motion to herald his ascendancy; he wants to have his own Avatar like me—like I did Raava did with her sacrifice eons ago to make me. But the point is—Vaatu would think twice before committing his evil! So would Sozin, Ozai, and Agni!"

"But what if you commit evil in their stead?"

"I wouldn't- "

Gyatso's eyes were dark. "Ba Sing Se's demise reveals otherwise, Aang."

He flinched. "That was a mistake; it won't happen again."

"Assurances are meaningless when you don't commit to changing how that event happened in the first place. You are still the same Aang who flew into Ba Sing Se and flew out of its rubble. You haven't made changes to yourself to ensure nothing like that happens again."

"You weren't there!" he exclaimed, floundering for stability.

"No," Gyatso agreed serenely but sorrowfully. "I know what you tell me, and I know that I will be a skeleton soon. But I am at peace."

Aang's teeth ground against one another. "Maybe you are, but not all the monks here are, and none of them are so accepting of their deaths! I need to save those who don't have peace!"

Gyatso rested one hand on the Pai Sho board and flipped a tile between his fingers. "Is your motivation sourced in your will to do good or because you want to make yourself feel better, bring yourself the peace that has evaded you for so long? You're not at peace, Aang."

Aang inhaled roughly. "Of course, I'm not. I don't know how to be. I haven't had peace since that damn day I learned I'm The Avatar!"

"What is peace, Aang?"

"Instinctual acceptance of What Is," he recited. "I don't have it."

Gyatso laughed roughly. "No, no, you don't. You have to learn it- "

"I know."

"No. Peace is something you learn; no one starts out peaceful. I had to learn my peace, Aang; you will have to learn yours. And I have peace now. I will not spend the final day of my life hating; I will spend it loving, for I love Life, which includes Death."

Aang's fists clenched. "I have enough hate for both of us."

Gyatso nodded sadly. "You do. To see you standing here and confess of your crimes is chilling; it seems impossible that the boy I raised became you. I would say I don't know you, but I do."

Aang swallowed, ashamed. "I'm sorry I'm not like you remember."

"It's the cycle of Life," Gyatso commented, looking far away, worn. "I do not resemble the boy I was, and you, even The Avatar, follow the pattern. It's almost reassuring that you walk the same path as so many men. But it saddens me that you aren't immune to the trials of Life. I knew your burden would be immense, but I hoped you would face it with dignity, grace, and wisdom."

He looked away. "I don't know how to do any of that; I don't think I ever did."

"You learn it," Gyatso said kindly, face pained. "You are more like me than you know, Aang. I was your age once; I felt deeply the impulse for rebellion, and I acted on it for a long time. I was a maverick to the High Council of Elders, and they tried to tether me to their wills by inducting me on the High Council, making me an Elder. But still I rebelled."

"But you won't rebel now," Aang hissed urgently, trying to make him see reason. "The High Council is content to do nothing and be made ashes! Rebel against their lethargic action! Come with me! Help me!"

"I rebel against you, Aang," Gyatso said gently, gray eyes kind but solemn.

"Then you're just like Sozin!" he snapped, unable to comprehend Gyatso's insanity. "I'm The Avatar! Listen to me, please."

"I do listen, Aang, but you don't listen to yourself. Your madness is beyond Sozin's—because you seek to change What Is. What Is culminated always in rightness, even if it was unexpected and unforeseen."

Aang blinked rapidly. "What? No, no! What are you talking about? Sozin is the one who changes What Is by murdering Air!"

"But Air will return through you and the Mother of Air—Azula, right?"

"Don't distract me," he warned, impatient. He couldn't think about Azula, not now! "I'm going to save Air! I'm going to stop all of it from happening!"

Gyatso stood up, crossed over to him, placed steady hands on his shoulders, and craned his head up to connect their gazes; gray eyes stared into gray eyes. "But that's not what happened and what will happen. Air's murder aligned with What Is, whether you understand it or not. Saving Air violates What Is."

Aang's fists clenched. "Then What Is should be violated. It should be raped as violently and grotesquely as Air was."

Gyatso looked disappointed but unsurprised. "You try to interfere in something beyond even The Avatar, Aang. If you choose to do this, what next will you interfere in? Where will you stop? When will you stop?"

"Don't do that," he snapped. "Don't make it seem like I'm unstable and don't have reason and would be unable to stop."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know! I know me! I know what I'm capable of. I can stop—just like I'm stopping this from happening."

Gyatso hummed. "You can stop others and events, yes, but can you stop yourself? Do you have the will to stop yourself?"

"Of course, I do- "

"You didn't have the will to stop yourself from murdering Ba Sing Se."

Aang flinched. "That's different- "

"No, it's not," Gyatso explained with an impossible patience that threatened to madden Aang even more. He never remembered Gyatso being so stubborn and, frankly, unlikeable! "The form is different, but the nature is the same. You didn't have the will to stop yourself from doing something catastrophic just as you can't stop yourself now from inflicting something catastrophic- "

"But it's to stop a catastrophe! Whatever consequences that happen are worth it!"

"Why is that for you to decide?"

He floundered for several moments. "Because I'm The Avatar!"

"But you hate The Avatar," Gyatso reminded patiently, eyes kind and smile warm and gentle. "How can you, let alone anyone in the world, trust the judgment of The Avatar if he is unworthy of trust, respect, grace, regard, and love—as you claim The Avatar should be deprived of because you think he's evil?"

Aang scrunched his eyes shut and stumbled back, shock and horror intermingling inside him. "Why can't you just let me do this?" he gasped. "Why do you fight me more than you'd ever fight Sozin?"

"I am at peace, Aang- "

"But I'm not! And no one else is!" he shouted, waving his hands wildly; something dangerous cracked inside him. "You're the only one in this temple who wants to die! Everyone else, if given the choice, would want me to stop it and save everyone! They would make the choice not to die, letting themselves each be murdered grotesquely!"

Gyatso nodded, confusing him even more. "Yes, but we made the choices that brought us to this point, to this choice that Sozin makes. Each of us, whether we're aware of it, makes decisions that influence other decisions. All the Air Nomads in the world made decisions that culminated in this moment, this horror that we're part of intimately—because we made decisions that informed and strengthened this fate for each of us. This is the consequence of our sins—the many sins that we have committed for too many generations."

Aang's cheeks felt raw from the cascade of tears that incessantly flowed out of his eyes in well-worn tides; it was likely a miracle that the room wasn't flooded. "Do you realize what you're asking me to do?" he asked, voice choked and breaking. "You're asking me to help you die; you're asking me to let you—let all of you—be tossed into Sozin's fires." Something dark and determined roared inside his heart, and he shook his head with sharp, jerky movements. "I will not help you die—I won't! I don't care if you hate me for it or are disgusted by me. I'm doing this, and no one can stop me."

"But you hesitate," Gyatso pointed out. "You don't act; you ask and seek. When you could fly to Sozin and strike him down right now, you sit here with me and converse." Gyatso sat down on the cot, gaze resting on his face; he saw his mentor's gray eyes roam, searching for that weak and pathetic boy. Aang made sure he saw none of that stupid boy. "You seek justification, which means, instinctively, you know this is wrong."

Aang tensed. "I seek advice."

Gyatso laughed, looking genuinely amused; Aang almost sobbed at both the sound and sight. "What advice could I possibly offer The Avatar?"

"I make this decision as Aang- "

"You make it as both. The Avatar—your fundamental, innermost nature—knows this is wrong, but Aang won't heed his wisdom."

"Because The Avatar's evil!" he exploded. "Just like Sozin and his crimes that I'm going to stop!"

"Why this moment, Aang?" Gyatso challenged. "Why not return eons ago and prevent all the crimes and atrocities then? Why not stop Zaheer and the Air Nomads who followed him during Avatar Keska's reign when they sought to desecrate Life rather than hold reverence for its sanctity? Why not stop Chin the Conqueror and his subjugation of Earth? Why not stop Fire Lord Kazuki from implementing his purges against his own citizens? Why not stop the terrible, deranged Karnok from terrorizing the communities of Water in the North before only one remained? Why not stop any of your predecessors from making mistakes that define their reigns as Avatar? Why not stop Avatar Kuruk from beginning this cycle of extremes in which the Mortal Realm is trapped? Why not stop any of the tragedies to ever befall anyone since Time began? Why do you seek to stop this moment, which is but a single insignificance in Life and the history of the Mortal Realm?"

Aang's fists clenched. "Because I'm selfish, and I don't care about any of that. I care about this. I care about Air; I care about you; I care about me."

Gyatso shook his head. "Only the last is true. You care about the Air that you think we are, but if you understood why we reached this point, you wouldn't do this. That's what I'm trying to show you."

"But I care about you! I love you, Gyatso!"

"Do you love me, or do you love what I can do for you?"

He cringed. "Why would you think that of me?"

"These are questions that must be asked, Aang," Gyatso said patiently, kindly. "You are a man now, which means asking hard questions for which there are no easy answers."

"You seem to have all the answers," he mumbled, more bitterly than he wanted.

"It took many years of striving and searching; I am no longer restless. I see the restlessness I once felt so profoundly consuming you, and you have it far worse than I ever did. But that makes your glory in overcoming it, in finding that peace and solace, all the more fulfilling."

Aang almost wanted to attack Gyatso because Gyatso was intentionally not seeing the truth! It was insane! "I don't care about glory; I care about you!"

Gyatso's head tilted. "If you cared about me, you would abide by my decision. You don't have to approve it, but you must accept it and live with it. This is my decision."

"It's a stupid decision!" he snapped. "It's insane! But not everyone's as insane as you are! Everyone in this temple will take my help, and I love them for it!"

"You love them only because they reinforce your perception of yourself; you love them for your sake, not their sakes." Gyatso stood from the cot and his hands cradled Aang's face, fingers pressing through his beard hairs to connect to his cheeks. "A man can only be a man when he loves for another's sake; a woman can only be a woman when she loves for another's sake. This is what it means to reach maturation and be an adult, living the wisdom that stands still to Time."

Aang ripped Gyatso's hands away. "But I save Air out of love for Air! I do it for Air's sake, and I don't care about the consequences! I'm sacrificing the life that I lived after Sozin's evil so Air can live again! And that's a sacrifice I'm more than willing to make! And I will make it!"

"Are you going to make that sacrifice because it's the right thing to do or because you've convinced yourself that it's the right thing to do?"

"Both."

"The fact you had to convince yourself, even slightly, even minimally, means it's not right."

Aang's eyes narrowed. "So, because Sozin didn't have to convince himself that what he's going to do is right, it is right?"

"It is right because it aligns with What Is, which we know because it happened, but you seek to change What Is."

"I'm doing this to stop Evil's victory!"

"By becoming Evil yourself? It's the ultimate evil to change What Is, Aang."

Aang stepped back, putting distance between them; once, he had wanted to be as close to Gyatso as possible, but now, he wanted distance. It was even more insanity that maddened him! "I'm already Evil!"

"Why?"

"Because I let this happen! It's my fault that Air is murdered."

Gyatso's face rippled with a steeled determination and conviction; it froze him in place, words dying on his lips. "No, Aang. You did not let this happen; we let this happen—our race let it happen. The High Council let it happen. Air Nomads who have walked the world for generations let this happen—but never you. You are innocent of this sin."

He stared at him, shocked. "No, I know that it's my fault! Sozin targeted us because of me—because I'm The Avatar! It's Vaatu's plan to avenge himself against me!"

"We fell, Aang," Gyatso repeated with stern patience. "This has its source in us—in our failures, sins, crimes, and mistakes. Nothing more and nothing else."

Aang whirled away, hurt, mind afire with disbelief. "No! I don't believe you! Air's pure! We're pure!"

"We were the last to fall, but when we fell, we fell with such speed. It was not gradual; it was intense. The other races have always been falling; they never reached our renown, born of our understanding. But we lost our renown; we deprived it from ourselves. We did it to ourselves, Aang. This was us, not Sozin. We've been falling for over a thousand years. The more I think about it, the more I think it started during Avatar Keska's time."

He shook his head, refusing to look at Gyatso. "I don't care; I don't believe you. I'm going to save you; I'm going to stop Sozin."

Gyatso was quiet for a long time before sighing with lament. "Aang, I tell you this so you can learn and understand. I know it hurts you, but you must understand—Fire doesn't attack us without provocation. We provoked them; we've provoked them for centuries, and it's only now that they have cast off the yoke we imposed on them. This is our penance; this is our consequence. We had centuries to change it—to correct course—but we refused out of pride and arrogance. We have thought we were untouchable in our temples in the skies, and we lost our way because of it; we're not who we should be, Aang. If you let me explain, you will see why we're not."

Aang grit his teeth. "How can you say that? I'm going to stop all of this from happening!"

"If you stop this from happening, you open us to the Great War, which mired Water, Earth, and Fire in its dark, twisted grip, but Air was free from the Great War's evil. We were free from it, however distantly. You speak of our purity, but you will diminish our purity if you save us—because we will enter the Great War, or some of us will, which opens the door to future generations of Airbenders following their passions. You think you can simply stop the Great War, but there is so much more going on, Aang, that has been building for centuries and centuries, well into Roku's reign."

"But it's Roku's fault."

"Must there be someone at fault?" Gyatso asked gently.

"Yes!" Aang exploded. "There's always someone at fault! Roku failed—I failed!"

"It's not Roku's fault, Aang, and it's not yours—never think so, though I know you have and do. It's not any one person's fault. It is our fault, we as a collective—not Air, but the Four Races as a whole. We could not keep the peace that we inherited from those who came before us."

"But I can stop it now!"

"But by stopping it, what will you provoke?" Gyatso challenged, and Aang felt like ripping out his hair and peeling off his tattoo of mastery. It was maddening! "What does Air become if we survive, if the Southern Temple survives while the others Air Temples don't? We lose, Aang; we lose and become something we are not and were never meant to be. Let us be in peace and be who we are until our final moments before we enjoy the Gardens. We have fallen, yes, and we have fallen more than the other races because we are disconnected and isolated, but we have retained our core; we have retained our values and morals, our understanding and ethics."

Aang blinked, hating that he was beginning to understand the crumbs Gyatso was leaving him—as it was when he was the Boy. "But those ethics and morals are why you say we fell in the first place."

Gyatso's eyes lit up in relief. "Yes, Aang—yes. That is why the Air that flourishes from you will be a better Air, one more balanced and free. But the Great War would leave it so we could never recover, robbing us of the chance for genuine rebirth. Sozin can't rob us of who we are—because we don't compromise in the face of our deaths. Let us die with our failures, for we are products of our failures. Only someone who is free from the failures and understands them can revive Air and prevent the failures from happening again—you."

He shook his head rapidly. "But I'm just going to go back to the Tree and do it all over again so I can save our entire race."

"No matter what you do, Air will lose something," Gyatso pointed out, voice almost a melody. "But what you don't understand is that Air must lose something. We aren't who we should be—not at all. And you, Aang, aren't who you should be."

He flinched. "I know. But I came back so I could be who I should be- "

Gyatso smiled, though it was sad. "You came back so you could keep holding onto who you were. Do you remember the leaf in the wind?"

Aang felt insulted. "Of course."

"Then why aren't you the leaf in the wind?"

Something insistent like frustrated panic gripped him. "I've adjusted as well as I can to this evil- "

"No, no," Gyatso interrupted. "It's living, not adjustment. You're not mature, Aang—you must be mature. You can't be hard and firm—as you are now. Maturity means having a foundation but retaining the principle of being the leaf in the wind; be loose and flexible while planted firmly, remember? The leaf is firm in the wind, letting the wind take it where it may because it recognizes that the wind doesn't destroy it; it recognizes that it guides it to new places. We must all be the leaf, firm and indestructible, as the wind—as Life—guides us. But we can't be rigid and deny the wind, fighting it, which would destroy us. We retain our foundation, our structure that holds us together, like the leaf holds itself together, and we go to new places when the wind blows." Gyatso rested his hands on his shoulders, gray eyes piercing but solemn. "You're not the leaf in the wind, Aang; you're the rock protruding from the stream, trying to fight the stream."

Aang swallowed. "But the waters only part for the rock and merge behind it, not pausing even a second; the rock doesn't make a difference."

"Yes, not when it comes to What Is. Life has taken you on such an indescribable journey, and you should be the leaf floating where Life guides you, but you're fighting it, destroying yourself—ruining your stability and structure, shredding yourself to pieces. You can't hold yourself together anymore because you're fighting the wind, the most impossible of foes. You're rigid—so much like the High Council."

He cringed as he understood what Gyatso alluded to. "At least I'm being like my race."

"The High Council—and us who haven't challenged the High Council for over a thousand years—is who destroyed our race. You can't be like the destroyers of our race, Aang—you can't be like Air as you understand it now. Your understanding of Air is wrong. We fell, and we became as you are now—a rigid, self-destroying leaf in the wind. That's why you're not who you should be—that's why your mind is breaking."

Aang was quiet for a long time, barely able to think, nonetheless speak. There was an unholy panic swallowing him whole. Was everything he had ever believed since he awakened in that damned, evil time a lie? Was anything he thought true? Had he wasted years of his life thinking things he should haven't been thinking? He had tried so hard to be like his race and always thought he failed because he clearly never possessed the full picture of his race. But now that he possessed the full picture—or a fuller picture—it was slowly becoming clear that he was just like his race—just like those amongst the High Council itself, the most elite and superior of Air Nomads.

But why didn't his ever-growing obvious mimicry make him feel proud and significant?

He was everything he had always thought he should be, but what he was didn't reflect what he thought he should be—because his race wasn't as he thought. The irony was agonizing—he had obsessed so passionately to be like his race, thinking that he was failing when, in reality, he had been acting just like them, making the same mistakes but never seeing it.

Is that what happened to his race? Had they become blinded as he did? Did Air really fall? Was Azula right? Was Gyatso right?

Had he been mimicking Air's fall, which occurred over a thousand years and more, in the span of only nine years and never realized it because he never understood the intricacies and complexities of his race?

He licked his lips, voice cracking. "But the children—I can't let them die."

Gyatso's face withered. "You could only save the children in the Southern Temple, but I wonder who these children would become in the Great War. Would they all become like you?"

Aang flinched. "No, they wouldn't."

"Did you ever think you would become who you are?"

"Of course not!"

"But you still became who you are," Gyatso murmured, looking into the distance out the window; he looked heavy and ancient, face drifting with memories. "Your belief didn't change your outcome. I don't think your belief would change the children's outcomes."

Aang swallowed hard, trying to control his tears; he failed. "You make it sound like it's an act of love by letting them—by letting all of you—die," he choked out, tears blurring his vision until he harshly wiped them away.

Gyatso nodded. "You let us be in this moment, where we are, still being who we are and have been for over a thousand years, as we wanted—because we would have changed ourselves and behavior, otherwise. We refused to analyze ourselves; we refused to assess ourselves; we refused to save ourselves. Now you must refuse to save us, too—though you haven't known who we've been. We make a mistake by not fleeing, and you understand that mistake is bad, but you let us make that mistake, even if it's our last mistake. I don't know the raw specifics of why this happened, but it happened for a reason—reasons I suspect are deeper and bigger than anything anyone alive but yourself can comprehend."

He squeezed his eyes shut as he understood exactly what Gyatso alluded to—though he actually held the answers, unlike Gyatso. "It's Vaatu, the Mighty Spirit of Darkness and Chaos. The world—the Realms—are teetering towards the Darkness after being in the Light for so long. Vaatu's my counterpart. The Darkness was always going to rise during the last quarter of my reign, impossible to stop—it would have been the opposite with the Light rising if Vaatu had been the one reigning the last nine thousand years. So much has gone wrong because it was always going to."

To solve everything, he would have to go back much farther—Gyatso was right.

"And Air is the foremost casualty of the rising darkness," he choked out, fists trembling at his sides.

"Because we embraced darkness with our embrace of isolation and disconnection," Gyatso said softly. "There is great strength in isolating and relying on yourself, but we ignored the dangers; we took a risk—many risks—and lost. We lost our balance."

He swallowed and stood taller; he knew what he had to do. "I'll go back farther," he decided, adamant. "I'll go back to when the Darkness began to rise and snuff it out there. I'll go to Kuruk and pull his head out of his ass. Maybe kill him and take over for him. You mentioned Keska—I'll even go back that far if I have to!"

Gyatso stared at him, face pained with sympathy. "Aang, you can't do that."

"Why not?" he demanded, aggressive. "I'm The Avatar! Nothing is beneath my willing!"

"One man can't fix everything, not even The Avatar, but one man can ruin everything," Gyatso pointed out. "And you are a man as much as any other. Will you ruin, Aang, or will you restore?"

The winds surged with presence as his arms slashed to the side with intensity. "I've been trying to restore! That's all I've been doing! That's why I'm doing what I'm doing now! It's what I'm doing now!"

"But by ruining," Gyatso reminded. "You think the world you awakened to is wrong and unholy- "

"It is!" he shouted, aghast and furious. "There's something wrong! It's wrong! It's evil!"

"The world changes, Aang; we must change with it. Air failed to do that. We stopped being the leaf in the wind."

Aang shook his head, ready for such an observation. "But by not changing, you remained true to yourselves; you remained pure and non-compromised! It's admirable!"

However, Gyatso wasn't surprised; he replied with such swiftness that Aang could barely keep up. "But our ethics died with us, and no one knows them. And we did change, Aang. We aren't who we should be; we aren't who we say we are. We have lost our way, so subtlety, but the subtlety is what makes our fall so dangerous. We didn't lose our way over the span of a decade or a generation, something we could track and remember, something obvious to see and understand; we lost our way over the span of over a thousand years. It was so slow, it was imperceptible, and so few of us ever saw it. We worshipped our ideals and ethics; we became possessed by them and closed ourselves off, isolated ourselves, disconnected ourselves. In one way, we are more connected to Nature and Life than ever before, but in many other ways, we are less connected to Nature and Life than ever before. This isn't a random event; it has built for many, many generations. It has roots, and the trees that we nurture now are not trees of connection but disconnection; we are more in harmony with Death than Life."

"But Life is Death."

"Yes, to live is to die, and to die is to live. But by becoming disconnected to the severe extent that we have, we have killed ourselves, killed our spiritual sense and awareness; we are insular. We are meant for connection, but we aren't connected. Look at us here, Aang, in our temples."

Aang was appalled. "But the Air Temples are beautiful! They're the centers for- "

"What are we called, Aang?" Gyatso interrupted, voice patient—as it always was. "We aren't the Fire Sunmen; we aren't the Earth Clansmen; we aren't the Water Tribesmen. What are we?"

He swallowed. "The Air Nomads."

"But we're not very nomadic, are we?" Gyatso pointed out with far too much knowing awareness in his voice. "For too many generations, we have isolated ourselves in the Air Temples and not experienced the world, not striving to be part of Life, and it has culminated in this—Sozin's attack. It's our fault that the other races think so little of us—because we have thought so little of them. The Air Temples are beautiful and renowned, centers for our civilization, but we lost our roots, Aang; we intentionally destroyed the roots of our race. We aren't nomadic anymore; we are rigid and sedentary. Air needs to change and go back to who we once were. You must do this by not stopping the Attack but by reviving the ancient teachings and understandings that we cast aside in our haughty arrogance. You came here to restore What Was, but What Was is equally as unacceptable to you because What Was directly birthed What Is. You can only achieve beauty and balance by making something healthy. The nature will be the same as ancient times, but the form will be different—because it must be. You are obsessed with forms, Aang—you must understand nature. Even if you saved us, you would only change the form in which we die—the nature remains, and the nature is that we are damned because of the choices we made. We have fallen for over a thousand years, and this is our crash; it's inevitable and unavoidable—because we made it so. If not now because you prevent it, it will happen regardless, and it will be worse in a different form."

"How could it possibly be worse?" he demanded, disbelieving. "You all died, and I'm all that's left!"

Gyatso's brows rose in thought. "Maybe you would be killed, ending permanently Air's lineage and philosophy."

"I couldn't be killed," Aang snapped. "No one can kill me."

"Many great men have said the same."

"But I'm The Avatar."

Gyatso laughed. "Why do you only ever accept your identity when it's convenient?"

Aang remembered how he threw Sokka across the room for saying something similar so long ago, but he would never—never!—mimic such an assault against Gyatso because it was against his willing! He would rather die than attack Gyatso! "Don't we all?" he whispered. "We want to disappear for times and forget our burdens. I never wanted to be The Avatar."

"I never wanted to be Gyatso."

He blinked. "What?"

Gyatso looked amused and enlightened—a curious combination he had never seen anyone else but Gyatso pull off. "I once had aspirations to be so much more, but this is who and what I am; you are who and what you are, Aang, no matter how much it displeases you and causes you strife. Everything has a reason; everything has a source. This has many sources, more than you or I know. This must happen."

"But why?" he croaked, agonized.

"All things are didactic if you look for the lessons, and this has many lessons. Maybe the other races need to realize the cost of war; maybe the other races need to wake up, trapped in a slumber of misunderstanding and incomprehension; maybe the other races have the same dreams as Sozin, but Sozin acted on the dreams first, revealing the horrible conclusion of such dreams that must never be acted on, for they end always in atrocity."

Aang shuddered. "Are humans so selfish and cruel that it takes an entire civilization being murdered to understand that something's evil?"

Gyatso smiled. "We can be, but we are more also; we exist under all things in Life. Who do you choose to be, Aang?"

"Not The Avatar," he said instantly.

"But who you choose to be is in direct alignment with who and what you are," Gyatso reminded patiently. "We are all beholden to our natures, and you are beholden to your nature."

It hit him like the force of Sozin's Comet—it was Evil itself! He shook his head stubbornly; he had already made his decision—because it was right forever! Anything that threatened his rightful, pure, beautiful, and miraculous decision needed to be buried in the grave of that damned, evil time, and he would bury it beneath the Realms themselves, casting it into the Void itself if he had to!

He squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't. Don't you see?"

"I do see, Aang."

"I know what you're going to say," Aang whispered, sagging,, breathing chaotic—almost as chaotic as his heart and mind. "But I won't do it. I won't help help you die."

"We all die, Aang," Gyatso replied softly, kindly.

"But not in this unnatural way!" Aang cried out. "This is unnatural!"

"Maybe it is. But no matter what you do, unnaturalness will plague the world and occur elsewhere; maybe this other unnaturalness will be worse than Air's temporary demise."

"It won't be," he said flatly.

"But there is so much wrong with this world, Aang, in this time. It has been building for generations—so many generations. Roku failed to stop it, and Kyoshi failed to stop it. I doubt either knew what was happening or registered any of it, least of all recognized it."

"Because it's Kuruk's fault."

"Kuruk neglected his duties as Avatar," Gyatso agreed. "You must not become him, no matter how much you want to."

He looked away, dissatisfied; he really wanted to be like Kuruk. "I know."

"But the only way to return to the natural is to let the unnatural run its course, which means Air's demise and the Great War."

"But it doesn't work!" Aang hissed, squeezing his eyes shut. "Ozai and Vaatu return simultaneously, and my enemies are growing in number! It's worse now—there—than it's ever been!"

Gyatso looked vindicated. "See? It has been growing, and it must be released somehow and some way; there must be a resolution."

"I won't let you die," he repeated, vision shaking.

"Even if we die, Life endures; Life goes on; Life persists. Isn't it beautiful?"

Aang shuddered. "No, it's horrible! Nothing matters but you! You're all I think about!"

Gyatso looked disappointed, and Aang hated it. "How disingenuous, Aang. You do not think of me; you think of what you think I am and think of us what you think we are."

A pulsing frenzy erupted in his skull; his sanity was starting to crumble. "You're all I have," he whispered, voice cracking. "Don't make me do this."

"I can't stop what you do; you have the power; you have the strength; you have the choice. I can't make you do anything. But there is beauty in this, Aang."

"How? How is there possibly beauty?"

"Because the impact is unknown," Gyatso murmured, eyes enlightened, serene, and clear. "What does this tragedy culminate in? Rebirth, which is beautiful and joyful. What does Air's rebirth culminate in? We don't know, but there is so much that can happen- "

"So many bad things," he hissed with bitterness. "I've seen what it culminates in."

"You've seen what it culminates in for a short time. But as you know, Time is never stagnant. It will culminate in so many good things also."

Aang whirled away from Gyatso, disgusted. "It doesn't feel like that."

Gyatso laughed slightly. "No, it doesn't—not in the moment. I'm going to die, Aang; I'm always going to die. I've been dying all my life—because dying is what we live for, all of us. Depending on what you do, I will die today or another day. Why stop it?"

"Because I love you!"

"I love you, as well, Aang, but you will die one day. In days long from now, you will breathe your last, and your eyes will open again in your next lifetime nine months later."

Aang shook his head—Gyatso didn't understand! "But yours won't! You'll be in the Gardens, dead! Or you'll be in limbo because Indra is too devastated by the Attack to take you to the Gardens!"

"What if, in our deaths, we live?" Gyatso challenged. "There is no end, Aang; there is only a continuance. Our bodies are frail and mortal, even yours, despite its impervious nature, but our spirits endure; our essences endure. I may be dead physically, but spiritually, I'm not. Limbo doesn't scare me. I will reach the Gardens when I must."

"But that doesn't help me!" he cried out.

"That is a selfish thought, Aang," Gyatso chided.

He hands ached from how hard he clenched them into fists. "I'm not weak enough to be strong enough to let go and be selfless!"

Gyatso smiled with soothing compassion. "What if your perception is twisted? Maybe you aren't strong enough to be weak enough to leg go and be selfless."

Aang threw his arms to the side, opening himself to everything. "You're right. I'm weak; I've always been weak."

Gyatso shook his head. "No. You have always possessed untold strength- "

"I'm not talking about The Avatar!"

"And I'm not, either. I don't speak of Roku; I speak of you. You are stronger than Roku, Aang. Above anyone to ever live, I can make that judgment, for I have known you both intimately in your successive lives. You have learned from Roku's errors, but now you must learn from your errors and let go—a much harder thing to do."

"How do I do that?"

"By having peace."

Aang's laughter was so painful and bitter, spasming in his chest like lightning. "I'll never have peace, especially about this."

Gyatso wasn't deterred; if anything, he seemed more determined. "What if you can?"

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Because you're all dead! And I'm all alone! Everything I've ever known and loved was murdered and stolen from me! It's Sozin's fault! And Vaatu's! I hate it! You should hate it, too!"

"I never will. I will be free."

"There's nothing free about Life!"

Gyatso looked shocked by his declaration before his eyes pinched. "You can't find freedom because the freedom you seek is a return to the childhood you once lived. That is what you wish to revive, not Air. You want your innocence back."

Aang gasped at Gyatso's presumptuousness before shaking his head with sharp jerks. "I want all of it, including Air! And I want you with me!"

"You can't- "

"I can do anything!" he cried out. "I'll bring you back with me to the Tree if I have to!"

Gyatso's face shuddered before it became unreadable, astonishing him—and terrifying him. "No, Aang. I won't let you."

Aang felt burned; his soul screamed in pain. "You would fight me?"

"Yes."

"But I'm The Avatar!"

"I must stay here."

"I won't let you," he hissed, tears spent. "I can't let you."

Gyatso stared at him sadly. "Don't be cruel, Aang, not to me."

"What are you talking about?" Aang demanded, voice rising. "I'm saving you!"

"I don't have the strength to live in a world that is deprived so severely of Air's presence, energy, and joy."

"But you have the strength to let yourself die?"

"Because we all let ourselves die, Aang. No one can fight Death."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. "I don't have the strength to continue living in a world without you in it."

Gyatso smiled kindly and placed hands on his shoulders. "Yes, you do. If you didn't take this journey, seeking out the Great Tree, you would have continued living in the world without me in it; you would have endured it as you have."

"But I don't want to endure; I want to live, and I don't see how I can live without you! I've done everything I can, and it's clear—I can't!"

"You only live by enduring, Aang. You must let me go—you must let all of us go. You must free yourself from this—from us. You've enslaved yourself to us; you must untether yourself from the chains you shackle yourself with."

Aang crumbled to his knees, back sliding down the wall as he stared at Gyatso, betrayed and stricken. "I can't. Please don't go," he pleaded, voice shaking precariously. "Stay, please. Let me save you."

"You know I can't, Aang," Gyatso whispered. "This is the hard decision we both must make. Life demands hard decisions- "

"I don't care what Life demands!"

"But you would say the same about Sozin, wouldn't you?"

Aang flinched. "How can you do this to me?" he begged, broken, soul shattered forever. "I'm not okay! How can I be okay when everything good and beautiful is about to be raped and destroyed?"

Gyatso was quiet for several long moments, face flickering with thoughts, but Aang couldn't decipher them—he never could. "Because you're you—you can bear it. You have strength and courage; you hold wisdom, though you've ignored it for a long time. You must attain understanding. I expect you'll get there—I know you will because I know you."

"I don't have much strength," he confessed. "I think I'm more powerful than strong. Azula says otherwise—but I know."

"You don't have strength initially. Strength comes with time."

"Why do you do this?" he whispered.

"Because I have to. There are all things we must do, Aang, that we don't want to do."

"But nothing like this."

Gyatso smiled sadly. "I have to make the same decision you do, Aang. There is a part of me that does want you to wave your hand and smite Sozin and his armies."

"Really? But you're peaceful." He remembered the carnage—the bodies—around Gyatso's skeleton, an unholy sight he still had hope to spare himself from. "You always said that Life is sacred."

"Life is sacred because Life is eternal," Gyatso said quietly with insistence. "Life can't die, Aang; Life can't slay, and Life can't be slain. That is why Life is sacred. I never spoke of the lives of people within Life as sacred, though they certainly are, but it's different; I speak of Life, that which is all around us and permeates everywhere and everything, present at all moments, even when we're unaware. It is a miraculous sublimity. That is why Life is sacred, Aang."

"Air is more sacred than Life," he muttered, dissatisfied.

"Air is part of Life, and because it's part of Life, it is eternal, too," Gyatso whispered, gray eyes roaming his face, searching for something—Aang didn't know for what. "Air can't die, Aang; Air can't slay, and Air can't be slain. You will have good memories of Air going forward, Aang. You have grieved the thought that you will never have a good memory of Air again, but you will—you will. And you will cherish these memories, some of which will be better than any memory you have now. Azula will help you create these beautiful memories."

"Nothing will ever be as good as you!" he exclaimed, disbelieving. "I've heard about the crimes! I know how the other races hate you! But I don't care! I love you! I'm going to save you!"

"Do you want to save us or save your perception and understanding of us?"

"I'm saving you," he hissed, adamant. "I'm saving you from the worst thing to ever happen in the history of the Four Races!"

"Is it?" Gyatso challenged, face serene. "How do you know?"

"I'm The Avatar!"

"Only when it benefits you."

Aang grit his teeth, horrified that Gyatso—Gyatso!—wasn't taking his side. "I've lived in all the ages of the Four Races. I know what I'm talking about."

"But only of the past. The history of the Four Races isn't over, Aang," Gyatso observed kindly but sternly. "The story isn't over."

"I can write the story better than anyone else!"

"The Great Tree- "

Aang snapped, hatred flashing in his eyes and spasming across his face; he felt it as it happened. "Fuck the Great Tree! Fuck It to nonexistence!" he cried out, something urgent and anticipatory gripping his spirit; it would never let go. "Even It recognized It's absurdity! It let me come me back so I could fix It's mistakes!"

Gyatso wasn't discouraged, possessing a miraculous perseverance in the face of his seething, terrifying hatred. "Or did It let you come back for peace and understanding- "

"This is peace and understanding! I can make it all better! I can make it beautiful!"

"What if beauty for you is horror for someone else?"

"I don't care!"

"You must remember how to care- "

"Stop that!" he interrupted, desperate; he didn't recognize Gyatso. Or did he ever really know Gyatso? Had he ever seen Gyatso, or had he only ever seen Teacher, Mentor, and Father? "The world needs Air, and it needs Air more than any of the other Elements! The other races are weak and pathetic next to us! They're stupid. The Great War is a blight on the other races. It's their fault. They're all war-like and resentful; they don't know peace from conflict. They're disgusting." His voice rose as all the thoughts, facilitated by his boiling emotions, born of feeling, poured out of him in confession—everything he ever thought but suppressed was released, and he was in love! It felt amazing! He would make Gyatso understand! It was the only way! "They are so much lesser than us! It's so obvious watching them and analyzing them, looking at the ways they talk and the nonsense they believe. None of them were strong enough to end the Great War; they relied on me, a child, to end it, and I did end it, unlike any of those idiots! Tell me, Gyatso—how could a child put an end to what men failed to for a century? Why did it take a child to stop what no one else could? How could none of them have the strength and will to stop fighting, to find peace and balance? How could none of them have risen above their innate weaknesses, realize their extensive errors, and just stop? How could none of them look to something greater than themselves instead of drinking the blood of their enemies? How could none of them see a murdered corpse and shudder? How could none of them see a raped woman and wither? How could none of them see a child's brains bashed in and die? It's pathetic; it's disgraceful; it's evil—because they're those things, aren't they? The Great War showed me what failures the other races are. We would have ended the Great War in months if not for Sozin's Comet; we would have shown the other races the way. None of the others have accomplished what we have. Look at our temples! Look at our artifacts! Look at the wisdom we pursued and the enlightenment obtained! The others worship War—it's so clear to me. It's why this stupid Great War happens in the first place! It has nothing to do with all the other stuff—it has to do with their stupid love for it! I can't believe I made friends with them! I was stupider than they ever were for debasing myself so visibly and unseemly! Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't actually enjoy it, deep down? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't anticipate the blood spraying against their flesh in a warm mist? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't look forward to seeing their enemies on a field of blood-soaked land? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't relish conquering others? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't find pleasure in making half-spawns with women who hated them and the half-spawns forced on them? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't disagree with its aims and objectives? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't care about solving problems and finding solutions to the plights evoked? Why else would the Great War last for so long if they didn't ignore Air's higher teachings because they hated Air's higher teachings, searching for the thrill of slaughter and rape? There's only one explanation—they're in love with spilling blood and raping and murdering each other, even for a century straight. They are savages. They're all sick and pathetic, unworthy of the lives they were spared while our entire race was wiped out! I want to be free of them, and I'm going to now! I came back so I could save us and right the world of the evil the other races inflicted! I want to feel something real again—it's why I'm here! And finally, I feel something real again, unlike in that damned, evil time. There's nothing real about that disgusting place; it's all fake and sickening—just like everyone in it! Every day I woke up then, I prayed it was all a nightmare, but I lived in that nightmare; the nightmare was all I knew—but not anymore! No longer do I have to wake up in the morning and retch and weep. I'm never going to live in that damned time again—because I destroy it now because destroying it is good. There's nothing redeeming about that gross place. The people in it are imposters and frauds, too stupid to understand anything. Zuko and Azula are the only good ones—and I've met countless people there because of The Avatar. They are nothing next to us; they aren't worth the lives they live! What do they know about Life and Death? What do they know about wisdom? What do they know about nature? What do they know about intelligence? What do they know about willpower? What do they know about grief? What do they know about loss? What do they know about spirituality? What do they know about meditation? What do they know about restraint and serenity? What do they know about ethics? What do they know about freedom? What do they know about truth? What do they know about anything but war? I've seen them and talked to them, asking questions, and challenging all their idiocy, and it's clear to me—there's nothing good about them, not like there was with you and our race. I can't believe I saved that stupid world and those even stupider races. I guess I'm a bigger idiot than they are. But I didn't save the world for them. It was never about saving the world, not this world that is so disgusting and evil. No, it was about stopping Sozin, who lived on in Ozai—that was it. It was never anything more, least of all 'saving' these fools who couldn't save themselves and mock Air to my face when they think I wasn't paying attention. The only people I save now are everyone in the Air Temples—our very race, concentrated in four areas, as it should be. No one else is worthy of my regard. It's all so clear. Unlike them, we know freedom, out of which everything else is possible."

Gyatso looked saddened but patient, bearing the brunt of his ferocity with impressive ease. "No, Aang—we haven't known freedom for many generations. We embraced the Darkness. All the crimes against which you condemn the other races, we are equally, if not more, guilty."

"No!"

"Yes. Do you doubt my understanding?"

"I don't care! You're still better than everyone else! They're stupid!"

"We're all only one decision away from the Darkness, and there will be times always in which your decisions cause you to embrace the Darkness—like now. You hate so deeply, Aang; you are in love with it—it is your wife. You hate with force equal to all the hatred leveled rightly against us by the other races."

He flinched. "That's different. I'm doing this because it's necessary—it's the only way to save you!"

"But we shouldn't be saved- "

"I'm not like you!" Aang cried out, voice hoarse. "I'm sorry, but I'm not. I love the Darkness more than I do the Light! Especially now because only the Darkness will give you back to me!"

Gyatso's face shadowed for several moments, pooling in his vivid gray eyes. "I've embraced the Darkness before, Aang; I've lusted after it, too."

"No, you haven't," he denied automatically at such an absurd notion.

Gyatso looked grimly amused. "You think you have a clearer understanding of who I am and what I'm capable of than I do?"

"I know you, Gyatso."

"You don't live my life, Aang; you live your life. My story isn't yours to write, just as your story isn't anyone but yours to write. You know the Gyatso who raised you, but you do not know the Gyatso who would have shuddered at raising you, the wild and rebellious Air Nomad who wandered the world for years, rebelling against the High Council of Elders."

Aang's eyes bulged from their sockets as he recalled how Gyatso earlier defied the High Council, even though he was on the High Council, dismissing them to their faces, and fighting back against their stubborn ignorance. He thought it had been the first time it ever happened. "You challenged the High Council of Elders before?"

"Repeatedly," Gyatso said with a fond laugh. "There is much you don't know about me, Aang, and there is much I don't know about you."

Pain pierced through him, followed swiftly by familiar determination. "I want you to know everything about me. That's why I'm staying here, too; that's why I'm going to save you."

Gyatso's head tilted; his gray eyes were curious, albeit disapproving. "What is your plan, Aang? You stay here and live a new life, forgoing the connections you cherish there, no matter unfulfilling they feel now."

He nodded with adamance. "Yes."

"You harness the knowledge you gained there to benefit here—but the knowledge you would use to 'save' this time is only possible because of that time in which you awakened. Doesn't that mean that time in which you awakened is good—because it's the source of your ability to 'save' us?"

Aang blinked hard and shook his head. "No. Stop twisting it."

"I'm asking you a question."

"I'm not the Boy anymore," he reminded with the beginnings of a sneer; he hated the Boy. "You can't walk intellectual circles around me."

Gyatso smiled. "It's an emotional choice to hold onto us—just as it's an emotional choice to let us go. You must come full circle, Aang."

"I failed you once—I'm not doing it again!"

Gyatso's eyes closed. "Oh, Aang. When will you accept that you didn't fail Air? We failed ourselves. This isn't your burden to bear; it's not your sin to atone for; it's not your crime to remember. We did this, not you, not Sozin, and not Vaatu. We reached this point because we let it reach this point. We failed, and for our failures, which are far more and deeper than the other races, we will die."

He shook his head. "No, you don't deserve this. I don't care what we did! I'm stopping this!"

"We don't deserve it, but it must happen all the same—because it already happened. It's destined."

"Fuck destiny! Fuck the Tree of Time! Fuck the Void of Eternity! Fuck Life if this the result!"

Gyatso smiled kindly—but mournfully. "You can let go, Aang," he encouraged, but it sounded like a death knell to his heart.

"I can't let you go- "

"That's not what this is about. We aren't who this is about."

Aang stared at him in astonishment. "What are you talking about! Of course, it is! I'm doing this for you! You're all I think about!"

"You think about The Avatar all the time; you dwell on it; you fixate on it; you brood on it. You don't need to do that anymore. You can let go; you can be free. Ever since you learned your identity, it's never left you; it's always seized you, consuming your thoughts at all moments. You've never thought a thought that doesn't connect to The Avatar since you learned you're who you are. It's a terror and horror that's gripped you for years."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut, not sure how Gyatso knew such a thing, but it didn't surprise him. "It's an evil," he corrected. "The Avatar is evil, Gyatso—I'm evil. But I'm done being evil. I'm stopping this from happening. I'm going to spare us of this destruction."

"Destruction is as important as Creation; they are congruent. But Aang, you must accept who and what you are. Aang did not become The Avatar; The Avatar became Aang."

Aang shook his head. "No, Wan became The Avatar—it's the same! He was the first Avatar who bonded with Raava forever, subsuming her and all else, to make us! It stared there!"

"That's the only time that ever happened. Your nature is The Avatar while your form, in this lifetime, is Aang. When Raava committed to her sacrifice to ensure Wan's success, the transcendence peeled away what made Wan 'Wan' and elevated him to The Avatar. His nature become The Avatar, and Wan became the form, the name he took in his first life. Raava is no more, sacrificing herself, for there has never been Raava since the Ascension happened—there is only Wan, The Avatar, who lives evermore."

"But he was already Wan!" he protested vehemently, though he felt a pulse inside him that protested his protest.

"He chose to keep the name to honor the man he once was but who he would never be again—because he couldn't be him again."

Aang swallowed and felt the pulse inside him relax in agreement. "Because I became The Avatar and, thus, of a new nature—forever. But I can't do this—you know I can't. You're asking me to make a decision that contradicts all the decisions I've ever made!"

Gyatso nodded. "Yes. But I know you can do it."

"I can't rush this decision," Aang whispered, thinking of the absurd possibility and tried to look past the innate disgust and horror; he was failing. "Big decisions can't be rushed, can't be made rashly. When I made a big decision here last time—running away—it was the worst thing I ever did."

"Worst or best?" Gyatso challenged generously. "I think it's the best because it did happen. Whatever happens is always best."

Aang stared at him in disbelief. "Not even you believe that."

"I do. That's what enlightenment means."

He scoffed. "Enlightenment's overrated."

Gyatso laughed. "Oh, you are so much more than an Airbender now. You are finally yourself—but now you must accept your nature."

"By accepting my 'nature,' it means I accept what happens to you—I'm never going to do that!"

"You never lose grief, Aang; it only takes on different forms as time passes." Gyatso gripped his shoulders. "You will never not mourn us. You will miss us all your life. But you must not let our memory stop you from living."

"There is no living without you!"

Gyatso smiled. "Why be disingenuous? Of course, there is."

"I'm The Avatar! It's me who's lived without you and saw the impact of it! I felt it!"

"Forgiveness is a choice, Aang," Gyatso reminded. "You must forgive yourself; you must choose to forgive yourself."

Aang jerked his head, trying to stop the tears in his eyes. "Never. I'm never going to forgive myself. I deserve our race's fate, not you. But I'm not noble enough to kill myself—I'm too weak!"

"You have never been weak in your life- "

He swallowed, horrified. "You haven't seen my whole life."

Gyatso smiled softly. "I haven't, but I see you now. And though I know of what you've done and suspect so much more, I am happier than I've ever been—because you are here, looking for answers. You're looking for the Truth, as you should, though you've struggled extensively. That's always been your aim, deep down. You have been so confused, hurt, and broken for so long that you couldn't comprehend it. But you can comprehend it now."

"I want you to comprehend it with me!"

"I was going to leave with you," Gyatso said, smiling sadly. "But when I came to get you to leave, you were gone, and I couldn't find you. You fled from the temple."

Aang wavered, and the tears were thick and horrifying. "No, no! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

"My regret lied only in my uncertainty of your fate, not that you manifested your authority as The Avatar. But now you are here, mature, and my uncertainty is relieved. You are okay—you will be okay."

"But I'm not okay! I've never been okay! I never will be!" He gripped his hair and squeezed his eyes shut. "You don't understand; no one understands."

"Yes," Gyatso agreed softly. "Only you understand you, and only I understand me. That is the distressing but beautiful gift we all share. I know it's hard—I know. And I know you will never meet anyone in your life who understands, least of all of the other races."

Aang sniffed and scrubbed at his tears. "It seems like they hate us more than understand us."

"Because they do," Gyatso confirmed.

He exhaled roughly. "How did Sozin do it? How did he make them hate us so much?"

Gyatso's eyes softened. "They hate us because of us; they hate us because we made them hate us, not Sozin. It's never been Sozin, Aang."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut, mind afire with incomprehension and disbelief. "But we always visited Fire and Earth! You and I would visit your friends! No one hated us then!"

"All sheltered experiences," Gyatso explained, saddened. "We met with whom we needed to meet and left immediately once we were done. We only visited specific locations where I knew we wouldn't be attacked or confronted. I never took you to visit the South or North because they hate us—they hate us more than even Fire. However, they lack Fire's great power, which spared us from their ire for centuries. I took you to visit Earth's continent and Fire's islands instead, never Water's poles."

Aang blinked. "But you told me all those stories about how you went penguin-sledding when you were younger! That's why I was going to the South in the first place after I ran away!"

"A different time," Gyatso said softly. "And they never knew I was there—I did it in secret. The penguins didn't tell on me."

"Why do they hate us, Gyatso?" he begged, soul withered but gaping. "Why?"

Gyatso's face twisted with remorse as he helped him to his feet. "Come. I want to show you something—I must show you something."

Walking through the temple's halls with Gyatso again wasn't how he had ever imagined it being; there wasn't any joy or ecstasy. All he felt was a rising sense of dread as Gyatso silent led him through the temple with Aang concealing himself every time another monk approached; his dread was heightened as less and less light was visible in this part of the temple. There seemed to only be darkness, pierced dimly by brief rays of light through the stone. When they neared a small door on the other side of the temple, almost hidden compared to everything else, Aang knew this part of the temple, but he realized he only knew it from his time in the averted future; he never knew it when he was a child. But when he saw what seemed like two master monks guarding the locked doors, he tensed.

"What is this?" he asked quietly.

"Stay here," Gyatso said mournfully before he approached the other master monks, raising his voice in greeting. "I've come to tell you that you're needed by the other Elders. They requested your assistance."

Aang watched as something suspicious rooted on the other master monks' faces. "Why, Gyatso?"

"They want to know how much we have."

"We gave that report last week."

"Something's come up that requires a re-evaluation."

"Escort us there then."

Gyatso shook his head. "I will stay here in your stead and guard this place."

Apparently, it was the wrong thing to say as the others shifted into fighting stances. Aang had seen enough, outraged that Gyatso was going to be attacked, and jumped into the hallway. "Leave him alone!"

The other two master monks stared at him, specifically his hair and Water Tribes garb, and sneered. "Outsider. You dare bring an outsider here, Gyatso? You are a traitor!"

Aang lashed out and smashed the master monks against the wall with airbending and swiped again with ferocity, showing no restraint. The master monks were knocked out quickly, and Gyatso glanced at him. "You are stronger than even I thought you would be."

"Why did they act like that?" he demanded, something hysterical rising inside him. "That's not how Air Nomads act, especially to each other! We're friends!"

Gyatso smiled sadly. "There are many things you missed understanding growing up, Aang, and I suppose that's my fault. I shielded you from as much as I could. I'm sorry for that."

"What are you talking about, Gyatso?"

Gyatso unlocked the door with a swift flourish of his airbending and gestured him inside. "See for yourself. See our race's ugly secret."

Aang entered the room, expecting to see nothing, but when he saw the opposite of nothing—saw something impossible!—he stared in denial. "No, no," he breathed, trembling as his eyes were riveted by the mountains of treasure—the sheer amount of gold, jewels, gems, and rubies gleaming back at him burned his eyes. "This room is empty!" he protested in hysteria. "I restored all the temples, and I saw everything there is to see! This is a trick! This room across all the temples was empty!"

"Because it was raided of its loot," Gyatso whispered in answer. "All the treasure was taken during the Attack—returned to its owner."

"What is this?" he breathed, trembling, trying to comprehend something impossible.

"What remains of Fire's tributes to us, which stopped sixty years ago; there's not as much as there used to be. Each temple has a room exactly like this—flooded with Fire's treasures."

Aang sank to his knees, staring in horrified disbelief. "What? Why?"

Gyatso sank beside him, a gentle but wise presence—though the sadness emanated off him like a sickness. "Air and Fire's distrust for each other are not of this generation; its source was many generations ago when the tributes started. I'm sorry you felt that as a child, which helped inform your perception of Azula."

"Why the tributes?" he asked hollowly, trying to keep control—trying to prevent from slipping into mad hysteria! "Why would Fire pay us tributes?"

"There was a Fire Lord Houka many generations ago- "

"I know of him," Aang interrupted, remembering Azula's stories when they were on Ember Island together. It seemed like such a long time ago—he could barely remember it. "His heir was a half-spawn who had gray eyes and was named Zyrn, and Zyrn was an Airbender—an Airbender sat on the Dragon's Throne. His mother was one of our nuns."

"Do you know why?"

Aang blinked. "No."

Gyatso looked sad and old—ancient. "It acted as part of a payment of cleansing. Houka sired his heir by one of our nuns and vowed that Fire would pay tribute to us for a thousand years to redeem himself and Fire of his crime against us."

Aang swallowed. "What crime?"

"I never took you to the Western Temple, but I know you've been there in your time."

"In that damned time," he corrected. "Yes, I've been there. I restored it—I restored all the temples."

"Do you know why its architecture is so different from all the other temples?"

He hesitated. "To try something different?"

Gyatso laughed slightly. "No, Aang. The Western Temple you know is not the first Western Temple. There was a previous Western Temple."

Aang's eyes shut, and fury filled him—it made too much sense! "And Houka destroyed the first Western Temple?"

"Yes."

"Then he deserved the death he got!" Aang snapped, recalling Azula's story of Fire Lord Houka. "He was overrun by a mob of his own race and crushed to death under feet and boots. He deserved even worse!"

Gyatso only stared at him. "Houka attacked because we attacked first."

Aang flinched and scrambled back, and he jumped into the air when his hands collided with some of the mounds of treasure; he scooted in the other direction, scandalized. "No. No! You're lying- "

"Have I ever lied to you?"

"You never told me I'm The Avatar!" Aang roared, shaking the room.

Gyatso only stared at him, unafraid. "Will The Avatar listen to me and hear the truth?"

"It's all lies!" he sneered. "All lies! I don't want to hear whatever lies Sozin has filled your head with!"

"What was your reaction when Appa was killed?"

He flinched at the sudden reminder of his second greatest crime—second to abandoning his race to Sozin's evil. "I know."

"What was it?"

"Wrath and murder."

Gyatso smiled sadly. "Your bond was severed violently, and you thought you knew who to blame."

He didn't want to think of Ba Sing Se. "What does that have to do with- "

"It's the same story," Gyatso divulged, voice grave, eyes seeming to peer through Time's mists to perceive what he spoke of, recounting it with lived presence. "Five Air Nomads traveling on their sky bisons ran into a large group of dragons. The sky bisons were killed with some of the dragons, and the Air Nomads reacted in furious grief; they slaughtered the rest of the dragons and descended on Fire with the violence of the winds. They murdered thousands of Fire Lord Houka's subjects—no one knows the exact number. But Fire got smaller that day by a noticeable percentage. All it took were five Air Nomads."

Aang swallowed and sat back, trying to picture it; he pictured it with ease, which disturbed him. "And Fire wanted revenge," he whispered, voice echoing through the room, reverberating off all the treasure, mocking him—reminding him.

Gyatso nodded distantly. "Houka was enraged and attacked the only temple Fire knew of—because it was closest to Fire's islands. The Western Temple was sacked, and the fighting was severe. So many died on both sides, and our nuns showed a fighting spirit to defend the children, but they all died within four days. The temple was destroyed from the bodies of dragons and sky bisons crashing into it over and over again. All that was left was the foundation on the mountain when it was over. The news was everywhere, and the High Council met with Houka to negotiate."

His eyes were riveted on all the gold and gems around him. "And that's how the tributes started."

"We told Houka we hate violence but not to think us incapable of it," Gyatso shared. "We pointed to the five Air Nomads who started it. We said to imagine the destruction our entire race could inflict on him and his race; we told him it was worse than anything he could inflict on us, even though his race's numbers were far superior. We threatened him to fear for his race—because we were scared by what happened. We pointed out his severe dishonor and rashness, of which he was most ashamed—because the percentage by which we shrunk from Houka's attack was greater than the percentage by which Fire shrunk from the five Air Nomads who attacked. We shrunk by a quarter; Fire shrunk by less, likely a tenth or twelfth. We demanded tribute and penance from him, and he obliged, knowing it meant war otherwise—and, thus, his race's long demise. The tributes began, and Houka wed one of our nuns, born of the Eastern Temple, and sired by her his heir, an Airbender, before she returned to the temples, too disgusted to ever want anything to do with her son, who was the son of the man responsible for so many of her sister-nuns' deaths. But with the tributes, we hired powerful, artistic Earthbenders to build us a new Western Temple—but in a location that Fire couldn't find. The new Western Temple was the solution, built under the cliffs above a ravine. That's why the architecture is so different—so out of rhythm with the others. It was designed to be a secret location that Fire could never find. Houka's attack changed us, Aang. We had already started losing our way by then, but that was a critical point where we went left rather than right—we started down the wrong path. We are self-righteous and haughty—we have fallen so far. We isolated ourselves in our horror and grief, and we have distrusted the other races ever since, perceiving them as savages too unintelligent to understand anything, least of all Life and its beauty. They hate us, and they have for a long time, but they hate us because we hated them."

He remembered all the people on Earth's continent, Fire's islands, and Water's poles who had expressed such disgust and hatred for his race. He had thought it all a conspiracy propagated by Sozin designed to eliminate his great enemy—or enemies. But what if their vitriol was genuine and well-reasoned? The feeling of doubting what he saw was agonizing—and terrifying.

It couldn't be true!

"But because of Houka—because of Fire!" he snapped. "Look what they did! It's their nature! And Sozin's going to do the same as Houka!"

"That doesn't mean we were right to do what we did, Aang," Gyatso said patiently. "We propagated friendship and forgiveness but couldn't follow our own beliefs. We became hypocrites due to our trauma. We lost an entire quarter of our race, and we all felt it for generations. It took over a century—almost two—to replenish our numbers because the nuns were such a low number for a long time. But with the nuns at such a low number, the monks became the same number a generation later. We lost multiple generations because of Houka's attack, and we never forgave Fire for it, demanding outrageous tributes for centuries. We weren't Fire's friend like we pledged to be a long time ago. We said we're a friend to all, but we were only a friend to ourselves."

Aang swallowed, reminded of his own eerily similar failures to adhere to friendship and forgiveness; he felt hollow. "And we've demanded tributes ever since," he concluded. "For centuries, we've taxed Fire for their crime."

Gyatso gestured around them, though Aang knew it wasn't to the room itself. "How do you think we've maintained the temples' perfections for so long? We have elevated their splendor with Fire's tributes to us. We've paid powerful Earthbenders to build new additions every decade. It was a normal occurrence when I was growing up."

He shook his head. "I never saw them- "

"We haven't paid for any additions since Roku's death, and even before that, Sozin stopped the tributes, for which we sent assassins after him, paid for by the tributes. But the assassins failed. However, the High Council wasn't too concerned with Sozin stopping the tributes because they figured that they would have better luck convincing Sozin's heir of its necessity and knew they had enough tributes stockpiled to bide their time for Sozin to live and die naturally. However, what they didn't anticipate was Roku's death—no one did. But because of Roku's death, the High Council had to look frantically for his successor, but they couldn't find him, which necessitated the excessive spending of the amassed tributes. The High Council spent about two centuries' worth of stockpiled tribute looking for you after you were born, dwindling our supply. We used to have multiple rooms in each temple to house all the tributes, but now there's only one room in each—and not even full."

Aang blinked, astonished. "What?"

Gyatso smiled distantly. "The High Council had to pay countless bounty hunters to track down your parents, who had fled; everyone in the world was looking for you, basically. And when the bounty hunters were killed, they hired more bounty hunters, who were also killed. And when other bounty hunters were asked to find them, the price for their services kept rising due to the known risk of the hunt—because rumors spread everywhere about it. The High Council paid outrageous sums to many bounty hunters, enough to finance wars, to find your parents because there was such a large trail of bodies. They paid every agent on the continent they could; they paid peasants to spy and advance their families socially and economically. But nothing ever worked—until the High Council, with nothing else to choose, paid the Dai Li, who managed to track your parents down. It was a very long process."

Aang stiffened; he always knew he had parents, but it still surprised him. "My parents? I had a father? A mother?"

"Of course," Gyatso confirmed kindly.

He remembered Katara and felt tremendous guilt and sorrow. To fill a void, he had attributed so many things to her, which wasn't fair; he had never asked her to be his mother. He had instinctively delegated her to the position. Maybe his assumption had contributed to her dropping contact after the Great War. Was he that unlovable? He tried desperately to imagine his mother, a rebellious nun, but the only mother he could conceive was Katara. When he imagined his father, he only visualized Gyatso. But he had treated both his provisional parents terribly, hadn't he? He had been cruel and audacious to Katara, of whom he had expected the impossible, and she had done the best she could, but he hadn't cared—he had demanded more and punished her when she understandably failed to fulfill him. She was never his mother, and though he would make the same decision to delegate her to that position if he had to do it over again because it was the only thing he could do during such a time, he felt regretful over how he treated her. And with Gyatso, he had revealed the truth of himself, foregoing any performance that reflected, even minimally, the Boy, who Gyatso loved so completely. And he knew it was the same for Katara; she looked constantly for the Boy and wanted to see him, wanted to talk to him, wanted to interact with, wanted to comfort him, and wanted to love him. But he ensured always that she never saw the Boy, wounding her heart, twisting it in his palm—like he wanted.

What had he become?

Gyatso sighed. "Your parents knew you were The Avatar; they sensed it. The High Council tried to confuse them and deny it, but they knew. Their spiritual senses were astonishing—much greater than my own. And they wanted to raise you themselves. They refused to hand you over to the High Council to be raised, even though those on the High Council actually wanted nothing to do with you. I tried to stop it, but I was the only one."

Gyatso raised his garment, peeling the layers back until smooth, light, pale flesh became visible, and Aang saw a gruesome scar slit through his side—an airbending attack, similar to the one he inflicted on Ozai by cutting off his arm.

He swallowed. "What happened? Did my… parents do that to you?"

"No," he said softly, letting go of the garment, which drifted to its regular position, concealing the scar. "Tashi did."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. "How?"

"I tried to defend your mother from a mortal attack, but I failed," Gyatso answered, voice mournful. "Your father and mother were killed, and you were taken by the High Council. They were adamant I would have no contact with you, especially after I had already betrayed them many times, but upon that first night without your parents, you were so distraught and furious that you summoned a storm that wrapped around the temple."

Aang's eyes bulged. "No, I wouldn't- "

Gyatso laughed and sounded fond. "You would. You were a child deprived of your parents. It was natural. But you were The Avatar. The Elders tried everything to calm you, but it only got worse. The temple shook and groaned; there were cracks everywhere. I thought you were going to bring us down the mountain, and many others shared the same concern. Some monks had even taken the initiative to start evacuating the temple. But then the Elders brought me to you as a last resort, and you calmed down immediately when you saw me. The storm ended, and it was decided that I would be your mentor then. None of the others wanted the burden, but I accepted—I yearned for it. Thus, I was raised to the High Council, though none of the others trusted me or liked me. That's what happened, Aang."

He clasped the sides of his head, gripping his hair, trying to keep up with all the information that he was learning, trying to absorb all the jagged pieces. So much of everything he had ever known was wrong. It was agonizing—but he wanted more.

Aang swallowed. "What were my parent's names?"

Gyatso smiled kindly. "Your father's name was Tenzin, and your mother's name was Jinora. They were kind and strong people—I wish I had known them longer. You look similar to your father, but you have your mother's eyes—the same shade of gray—and her ears. They were both very powerful, and it took the entire High Council—all 20 of them—to kill them both. I tried to help them, tried to stop the clash, but it was useless. Even when I joined your parents in fighting the High Council, hoping it would astonish the Elders so much that they would stop, the conclusion was the same. The High Council killed your parents."

He felt numb after hearing the story. "Did my parents love me?"

"With everything they had," Gyatso replied gently. "They loved you enough to fight for you—to fight to raise you. Your parents taught me so much, Aang. I was always rebelling against the Elders, but I never knew why; I could never discern why I was always so restless and frustrated; I could never explain why I felt so much discontent; and I could never describe why I disagreed with all of the High Council's decisions. I always felt it, but I could never articulate it. It wasn't until I met your parents when I saw the truth, which they taught me. They showed me that we lack willpower as a race—or our lack of will had been inculcated within us for generations of nonsense from the High Council. They showed me that we castrated ourselves by severing ourselves from our roots, which is the essence and foundation on which understanding rests. The other races have the will to preserve their roots, specifically Fire, but we don't. They showed me that we damned ourselves with our pacifism, our inability to fight, which diminished us into nonsense and arrogance."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. "But pacifism is a virtue. Fighting is wrong until it's necessary—that's what you've taught me."

"And that does not mean only fight your enemies, like Sozin," Gyatso explained, voice kind. "It means you fight yourself; you fight others, whoever they are. Our pacifism became our vice. We descended into arrogance, thinking we are better than the other races; we have shaped around us a belief of superiority with our pacifism, thinking we are the most virtuous of the races, the most intelligent, loving, and wise. But while we are likely the most intelligent, we became lost in it. We can't fight and actively choose to never fight, Aang. We lack the will to force ourselves to fight when we need to. Your parents showed me that when you choose not to fight, anything can be done to you—and you can do anything to yourself. We choose not to fight and have, as a result, compromised our ethics, morals, principles, and beliefs—because we didn't fight for them, fight to preserve them. We have let the poison of Change infiltrate our temples and dismiss the ancient wisdom we once cherished for countless generations. We stopped fighting for our understanding; we stopped fighting for our beliefs; we stopped fighting for our wisdom; we stopped fighting to be aligned with What Is. We can't fight, Aang, which damns us. Many times have come when we should have fought, but we never did."

He swallowed, shaking his head. "No, no. We're being the leaf in the wind by not fighting- "

"The wind has shredded our stability because we have not fought to preserve our integrity and foundation—our very roots," Gyatso whispered, saddened. "We needed to fight and never did. Compared to Fire, Earth, and Water's men, we are timorous and fleeting, lacking all virile strength, boldness, and spirit—this is the result. The luxury of our temples, which we have paid for with stolen gold, the notion of pacifism, and our sensibility and sentimentality have weakened our race to its doom. We can't fight in any way—symbolically, linguistically, philosophically, intellectually, mentally, spiritually, and physically. We damned ourselves, Aang. Passivity is necessary until it isn't—and there is always a point when it isn't necessary. We failed. Fighting is wrong until it is necessary, and we have cast aside all necessity; we have blinded ourselves through arrogance and dismissal. We must fight for our wisdom and flexibility to not become rigid. By old accounts, we used to communicate with each other and compare interpretations of the ancient texts before we would fight for our wisdom, incorporating all interpretations to perfect ourselves and our wisdom. But we haven't done that for so long. It sounds absurd now because we've fallen so far. And your parents taught all of this to me and showed me the truth. They rebelled against the High Council like me. They were my friends, and I loved them dearly. It angered me more than you know when they were killed. I would have taken you and ran after it happened if I hadn't been certain of the same result befalling me, which would have stranded you with the High Council. Thus, I played within the High Council's rules and did everything I could. I stopped trying to reform Air of our ways and focused on you only. I raised you as best I could. I taught you everything I could—the same things I talked to your parents about. And I love you as my own. Knowing you and loving you has been the greatest gift in my life, Aang, and I don't regret that my death is the conclusion of that gift."

Aang felt the treasures around him burning his spirit. "Did they hate Fire, too?"

Gyatso laughed slightly. "No. They lived away from the temples, living as true nomads; they taught me so much. They introduced me to many of their friends on the continent. In payment, I introduced them to the Order of the White Lotus, and they joined."

His bulged from their sockets. "You're part of the Order?"

Gyatso beamed. "Of course, I am. My allegiance to The Avatar has always been part of me since I met Roku; he was a good friend."

"And my parents joined it," he echoed, awed. "What else can you tell me? What don't I know about me?"

"You descend from the black-haired Air Nomads," Gyatso said after several moments. "They were renowned; they were rebels. The High Council hunted them down generations ago due to their severe disagreements."

His brows rose at Gyatso. "Are you descended from them, too?"

Gyatso grinned slightly. "Distantly, but both your parents were well-known for their relation to those 'traitorous' Air Nomads. They both had black hair—a rarity amongst us. It was the black-haired Air Nomads who spread the tradition of shaving our heads to hide their ancestry, to blend in with all the other peoples of Air."

Aang closed his eyes. "How many peoples of Air were there?"

"I know of six, though there is only one now," Gyatso divulged, spacing his words. "The High Council won. Our population numbers are low not only for our temperance."

"But because of the High Council's temperament," he muttered, wondering if he disavowed the High Council if he could save his race. But he knew he likely wouldn't be able to. Everyone was too far gone. "What else can you tell me?"

"You were born at the Eastern Temple, but you were only born there because the birth was so hard on your mother."

Aang swallowed. "Hard?"

"You were early," Gyatso revealed, voice grave. "Five weeks early."

"Did I hurt her?"

"All babies hurt their mothers, Aang."

"Was it a worse hurt?"

Gyatso looked solemn. "Yes. Tenzin was frantic. Your parents didn't live in the temples; they hated the temples, actually. But when Jinora went into labor, and there was so much blood, he was terrified—he thought you and your mother were dying. She would have died if he didn't act immediately—with the wind's swiftness. He brought Jinora to the Eastern Temple, closest in proximity, and the nuns stabilized her after some time when it looked dubious. Tenzin told me that the nuns said you were distressed. Something happened to you."

Aang tried to think back but realized he held no memories then. "I don't know what it was."

Gyatso sighed. "I suspect it was Ta Min's death. Tenzin agreed with me."

"But you didn't know I was The Avatar then."

Gyatso stared at him, eyes somber. "Your parents did—they knew. They felt it; they said your energy was unmistakable, though they had never encountered The Avatar before, only encountered those who knew him, like myself. You must have sensed Ta Min's death, and being so close to Roku, her death made you distressed, which provoked Jinora's labor, and Jinora faced death because of it. Tenzin agreed with me, and so did your mother. None of us could conceive of something different to impact you in such a way. You loved Ta Min fiercely as Roku; you have always loved fiercely in all your lifetimes. It's what makes you so human."

Aang scrubbed his eyes hard. "But I was born at the Eastern Temple. Did I kill my mother?"

"No, she survived," Gyatso assured quickly. "It was very hard on her, but she survived. Remember, the High Council killed her. But she was weakened for some time by the birth—there was talk of her life dimming over time because she lost so much strength. But she recovered her strength eventually, and believe me, she was very strong, not only in her airbending but in her character and wisdom. I was actually visiting the Eastern Temple when you were born. It's how I met Tenzin and Jinora—and how I met you again."

Aang swallowed. "Did you know I was The Avatar when you saw me?"

Gyatso hesitated before shaking his head. "I knew you were different. There was an intrinsic sense—I think everyone present felt it, but only your parents comprehended it. I befriended your parents and enjoyed them deeply; I stayed several weeks with them, helping as I could. The nuns didn't like your mother at all; she became violent at several points when the nuns tried to take you from her." Gyatso laughed suddenly with a deep, aching fondness, and Aang wished he knew his parents. "And Tenzin was even worse. He blew a group of nuns right off the temple's ledge and told them to embrace death since they embrace nothing. It was only my intervention that prevented things from becoming worse. But your parents left quickly once Jinora regained some strength, and no one knew where they were. That's why no one else knew you were The Avatar for so long—and the fact you were born early."

Aang blinked hard. "What? But you said that I was tested when I was three months old!"

"A lie agreed upon by the High Council," Gyatso dismissed, eyes pained. "I'm sorry I lied to you; I'm sorry for many things, Aang. You were never tested by the High Council."

He stood to his feet, closed fist braced against his sides; he tried not to look at all the gleaming gold. "I don't believe it! Then I'm not even The Avatar, am I?"

Gyatso smiled with sad intent. "You know you are—you always have been and always will be. You are The Avatar who chose to be Aang in this life of your many lifetimes."

He whirled around but only saw more treasure; he bowed his head and closed his eyes. "I may be The Avatar, but I can't do anything right. This was the first time in my life I was finally doing something right, but you're telling me that I'm still doing everything wrong. I should die with you and let my successor do something right."

"You don't mean that."

"You don't know how much I wish I did." He shook his head, breathing coming in harsh pants. "I should have died with my parents."

Gyatso's face flashed. "Stop that," he ordered, surprising him. "They would be horrified to hear you say that. They died at the first Air Temple, and I was there. You were taken from your mother's arms, which still cherished and held you, even while dead. Your parents fought for you, Aang; they loved you so deeply—they were more connected than any Air Nomads I've ever met. They want you to live, not die like this, suffering with misunderstandings. Even now, they love you so much."

Aang wiped stray tears from his eyes. "I wish I could be that boy again, and I hate that I can't," he croaked. "I wish I could feel that love—the love with which they showered me. But I can't even understand it—because I don't remember it! I don't remember anything! Apparently, everything I remember about Air—about all of you—is a massive lie!" Aang's teeth gnashed together. "I can't even understand everything about Air! That stupid scroll detailing true flight is as foreign to me as Sozin is, and I've tried to master it for over a year, and I've gotten nowhere! It's never happened to me before!"

"True flight?" Gyatso smiled. "It's in your blood, Aang."

His eyes widened. "My parents?"

To his astonished eyes, Gyatso floated off the floor, suddenly; he was weightless, untethered to gravity. "They taught me how to do it, though I never shared it with the High Council. I haven't walked the winds in years—there are too many eyes and ears here. But it's said that the black-haired Air Nomads are the ones who discovered true flight and mastered it, but all the other Air Nomads couldn't do it—they ran off the black-haired Air Nomads in envy thousands of years ago. The black-haired Air Nomads got their revenge when Zaheer came."

Aang swallowed, mesmerized by how Gyatso seemed one with the air; it was beautiful. "Zaheer?"

"Avatar Keska herself was forced to deal with him; he was too great for us to deal with and handle."

"Teach me," he begged. "Please. How do I do it?"

Gyatso shook his head as his feet touched the ground; he approached slowly. "It's not something to be taught; it's something to discover."

He sagged in exhausted bitterness. "Of course. Nothing can be easy, can it?"

"Learning the truth is never easy," Gyatso said kindly, hand resting on his shoulder. "It's grueling and painful. I know it's hard to believe everything I've shared with you, but it's true. Can't you feel it? Doesn't it make sense? Don't the pieces fit together with everything you've seen and heard?"

Aang stiffened as he recalled Chief Kuhna's accusations. "Why does Water hate us?" he asked quietly. "I heard things in the South. I heard about murder and extermination—I heard we targeted our own in pursuit of purity."

Gyatso had never looked so worn in his memory. "Yes," he whispered, voice a pained pant. "It's true. I hate it as much as you do, but it's true."

He opened his mouth but only a hoarse cry escaped him; he grit his teeth. "How?" he bit out. "Why would we pitch our non-benders off the temple ledges to kill them? We murdered our own babies! There's nothing more insane than that!"

"I know," Gyatso agreed. "Maybe that was the beginning of our fall—I don't know. But it wouldn't surprise me. But it's true, Aang—all of it. I don't know when it started, but I know it's a practice that started before Yangchen's time. I suspect it might have started out as a way to exterminate all the lineages of the black-haired Air Nomads after Zaheer's attack."

Aang shuddered, horrified. "Like me."

Gyatso's lips turned mournfully. "I don't know for sure, but it started a long time ago, likely when we began to fall—likely acting as what began our fall. Quickly, it's aim would change—we would purge the non-benders out of our lineages, purifying our race to only be Airbenders, strengthening us, giving us an appearance of perfection, especially to the other races, who would be awed by and jealous of our renown in never producing non-benders. The Elders would inspect all babies born by the nuns. Bending energy is simple to sense, and they never missed in finding any non-benders." Something ashamed, distressed, and impotent flashed across Gyatso's pale face. "Those babies never had a chance—because we took it from them, along with their lives."

He stared at Gyatso's shaken face, and something shrill seized hold of him. "Did you…? Did you 'discard' anyone?"

"No," Gyatso answered. "There hasn't been a non-bender born to our race in a thousand years."

"And Kuruk's children?" he asked, hesitant, feeling Kuruk inside him; there was a simmering hatred that was intimate to him—but it wasn't his own.

"A means of maintaining the purity of our bloodlines; it was a systematic infanticide that we would carry out even today if we produced non-benders anymore. I would try to stop it, but once it was known I wouldn't accept it, it would be carried out away from my gaze and awareness. Only the Elders know about the practice—only the Elders commit the crime. And no one's ever suspected a thing—because the babies were separated from their mothers, who assumed their babies were being raised as they should be. None of them ever knew that their babies, if non-benders, were discarded into the valleys. If you go into the valleys, at key points, you may find collections of tiny, shattered bones, the tiniest of fragments, specks and chips—the only remains of our non-benders, amassed there for so many generations. Any half-spawns, whether benders or not, met the same fates as all our non-benders, and not even The Avatar's children by our nuns were spared. We tossed them off the ledges like they were worthless." Gyatso shook his head in terrified wonder. "Not even Kuruk's reputation discouraged us. We were so possessed by our adamance that we didn't fear his wrath. We dared him to attack us, but he never did. We murdered his children—no one remembers how many- "

"Eleven," Aang said instinctually, and the roaring fury inside him almost made him vomit; he almost couldn't see straight, vision blurring and crossing as he tried to restrain Kuruk from seizing hold. If he failed, Kuruk would murder Air, not Sozin.

He held Kuruk off.

Gyatso didn't look surprised. "I thought it would be more, based on the legends. It's said that he and Yangchen were never amiable after we murdered his children to preserve Air's purity."

Aang flinched as he recalled the insistence he felt about preserving Air's purity. "I really am more like the Elders than I ever thought," he admitted, shaken and stunned.

Gyatso stared at him for a long time before nodding slowly. "Azula?"

"And my children with her," he clarified, voice breaking, trying not to imagine himself as one of those innocent non-bending or half-spawn babies, cradled in what he perceived as protective arms, before those arms stretched over the temple ledge and opened, and he dropped, going faster and faster, and his helpless screams and cries into the wind went unanswered—until the rocks in the valley swallowed his screams. Would the Elders have murdered him as a black-haired Air Nomad if he hadn't been The Avatar? He didn't know.

He pictured his children with Azula, the half-spawns he had always feared and resented; he imagined holding each of them, small and light, in his arms and throwing them off the temple ledges, watching apathetically as his screaming children diminished in his perception until they were nothing at all—ensured by the unyielding valley below.

It was against his willing!

Aang's breathing came in sputtering gasps. "No, no!" he choked out. "I'd never—never! I'd love my children!"

Gyatso's eyes were kind and knowing. "You will love them, but you must let go of your shame and guilt for loving them. You think by loving them that you're betraying us, who you considered perfect, and to 'replace' us with 'unworthy' half-spawns has disgusted you for years, hasn't it?"

He was surprised Gyatso knew him so well, especially considering how far he was away from the Boy. "Yes."

"There's no shame in loving them," Gyatso whispered. "There's no shame in loving Azula—your wife. Release your shame, Aang. It's time."

He sniffed and nodded. "I don't know how yet. I can't do anything right."

Gyatso smiled slightly, amused. "Then you're like us even more. We have done little right for a long time."

Aang swallowed. "I understand why Fire and Water hate us, but why does Earth hate us? I encountered some people on the eastern coast of the continent who were scared of me; they hated me." He bowed his head in shame, beginning to realize that he had acted terribly rash and cruel. "I got into a lot of fights on the continent because so many people outside of the cities had nothing good to say about us."

"Earth's Major Cities are isolated," Gyatso said after several moments. "They are insular, only seeing the world there and then. None of our race goes to the Major Cities because it's too long a journey—and because we wouldn't have success. I know that nuns from the Eastern Temple and monks from the Northern Temple steal food from earth's towns, specifically across the coasts, because it's so difficult to grow food on our lands—we're too high up the mountains. The air is different up here than down below, and food doesn't take kindly to it to grow. They steal food to feed themselves—to feed all of us."

"How do we get our food here at the Southern Temple?" he asked, feeling a sense of dread. He had always noticed that it was very difficult to grow food at the Southern Temple in the damned, evil time, but he hadn't put the pieces together; he had simply scavenged in the valley for berries and plums, which was the source of the majority of his meals.

"We grow what we can in the valley, but we mainly receive our food from the Eastern Temple, who supplies us while the Northern Temple supplies the Western Temple. We have always believed in a communal aspect of living where the land belongs to everyone equally, but Earth has land-owning practices, which we ignore and infringe upon, taking what we want when we want."

Aang bowed his head, recalling how those people on the eastern coast of the continent had accused him of trying to steal their food. "All our food is really Earth's food," he whispered, hysterical. "And all our wealth, which we preach is an evil, is Fire's!"

"We became enslaved to vices," Gyatso agreed. "I know we once traded with Earth for food thousands of years ago, trading our sky bison fur to provide them with winter clothes, but those days are long gone."

He shuddered, seeing how everything was slowly coming together—it was unholy! "And everyone I met in the Major Cities never had anything bad to say about Air because they've never actually experienced us, have they? They're isolated in their cities, unaware of what other people on the continent have to deal with. Earth isn't united in their scorn for us; they're divided. Some of them would be our allies, but some of them would be our enemies if it came to it."

"Yes."

"But what about the children?" Aang demanded, voice a rasp. "They were talking about kidnapping children!"

Gyatso sighed. "I've heard of some monks and nuns taking children away from their parents to try to educate them without their parents' input, making them more amenable to Air's ethics and customs. Justifiably, the parents are outraged and terrified because these monks and nuns aren't thinking; they are unintelligent, and their practice of kidnapping children, even to educate them before returning them to their parents, is abominable, reeking of a malicious motive, especially in their parents' eyes."

Aang felt hollow and numb. "The Great War's always going to happen, no matter what I do. I can kill everyone, but it's going to happen. It's inevitable."

"It's What Is," Gyatso agreed, voice far away. "I've seen its imminence for several years now, but I'll admit I'm surprised by how fast it happens; I thought there would be more time. Fire will murder us, and Earth will use our murder as justification to avenge themselves for Fire's invasion years ago when Sozin plundered them of their natural resources—not to mention the Earth Kings' desire to legitimize their reigns after Kyoshi placed them on their thrones by reversing Chin the Conqueror's unificationn process. Water will join Earth, not out of outrage for our murder but for the opportunity of advancement. Compared to Earth and especially Fire, they are more primitive, smaller in number, which means less presence in the world. They will seek to change that by expanding their influence. Fire has a lot to lose in the Great War, and Water has much to gain—that's why they will go to war."

"Only the South goes to war," he revealed, heavy; there was a blight on his soul that was different from the other blights he felt. This new blight went deeper than all the others. Everything he thought—and felt—he ever knew was turned on its head, decapitated. Some of what he knew previously was still correct, of course, but it wasn't the full picture; it was a single part of an ever-growing collage of other parts.

Gyatso looked unsurprised. "The South has always been bolder, and they despise us—I think more than Fire. Earth is the only one who could possibly be outraged by our murder, but it's not all of Earth; it would only be the Major Cities—thus, the four Kings of Earth, who have all the power and would want to avenge their shame in losing so much of their resources to Sozin decades ago and would justify expanding their power by going to war for a virtuous, honorable, noble cause, such as avenging our murder. But many amongst the Earth's peoples, especially on the eastern and northern coasts, won't agree with the outrage being pushed by Earth's Major Cities, who will lead the continent and everyone in it into a war with Fire, who also doesn't want to fight a war but will because they are forced. Sozin cares explicitly about his race; he loves his race. He would never send so many of his race to die in a war, nonetheless one that he knows will last possibly decades, unless he had to—unless he was forced."

Aang saw it happening—he saw it! He saw Fire wanting nothing more to do after murdering Air, wanting nothing to do with a Great War, which would destroy so much of them, ruining their traditions and culture, replaced by the abyss of war; he saw Fire wanting to use all the reclaimed tributes taken from the Air Temples for other things but being forced to use all the tributes in building their war effort against Earth, who declared war and refused to negotiate. But it wasn't only Fire, was it? It was something he was realizing slowly with painful insight. He saw Earth wanting vengeance against Fire for the slights received due to Sozin's invasion decades ago during Roku's reign—the same invasion that Roku ended; he saw Earth willing to use whatever excuses necessary to make their war a holy war, to give it meaning and significance, making soldiers fight harder, and forcing civilians to make bigger sacrifices; he saw the truth of Earth's experience with Air, especially on the coasts, die out as those who experienced it were killed, forced to the front lines to be mowed down by Fire's assault; and he saw Air's truth being replaced by a beautiful lie, one that he would believe for so long. He saw Water want nothing to do with the Great War at first, distant to it, especially with it being reframed by Earth as avenging Air—until the South saw the possibility of advancement, raising the prominence of their peoples in both Earth and Fire's eyes.

After all, there was a reason why Zuko and Azula—and, presumably, the rest of the Fire royal family, the nobility, and Fire's warriors—had always referred to Water, even Water's royalty, as peasants.

"That's how it will happen," he breathed in confirmation, staring at Gyatso. "Maybe not exactly, but it's there."

Gyatso looked old but amused. "The form may be different, but the nature is the same."

His head hung in despair. "I'm so sorry. Just tell me what I have to do."

Gyatso laughed lightly before shaking his head. "Be you, Aang—embrace your nature. Embrace that this must happen, and that you must let it happen. I expect you will make great strides- "

"It's always expectations and demands," Aang hissed, something inside him breaking—shearing so much of his spirit away. He needed to stay! Nothing of what Gyatso shared matter! All the history and reasons didn't matter! All the consequences didn't matter! The only thing that mattered was Air! Right? "Everyone always expects that I do something; people always demands that I do something. They have only expectations and demands; there's no belief. I want someone to believe in me, and I thought you—you above all—would believe in me. But you don't believe in me—not at all! Because you expect me to go along with your madness; you demand that I let you die. You don't believe in me and in my knowledge that I'm doing the right thing."

"Wisdom is more important than knowledge, Aang—you know this. It's wise to let this happen."

"No, it's not!"

Gyatso's head tilted. "How do you know? Didn't you hear everything I shared with you?"

His jaw clenched, and he had to smother the insane urge to breathe fire in Gyatso's face. What was happening to him? What was going on? "That's not enough to justify letting yourselves be murdered! And I know it because I lived in that world, that time, that was wrong and perverse!"

"Yes, you lived," Gyatso agreed, looking relieved and proud. "But the time in which you live is beautiful, isn't it?"

He laughed with resentment. "No, it's not."

"It is."

"You can't make that judgment."

"I can because I am of clear mind and at peace," Gyatso assured with a maddening serenity. Where was it coming? How could Gyatso be so calm about his imminent murder—about Air's imminent murder? "You are not. You have cast aside wisdom and embraced knowledge, which can often be a fatal mistake, and for you, it is."

"I don't care what the other races think about us; I don't care about the crimes we committed against them or the injustice we inflicted on them; I don't care about them at all!"

Gyatso hummed. "Do you do this out of a yearning to restore the world, or do you do this out of a yearning to restore yourself? Do you do this for the world or yourself?"

Aang stiffened. "The world- "

"Don't lie, not to me, Aang," Gyatso chided gently but sternly. "We both know you are here for you."

"Fine," he admitted begrudgingly. "But in that evil time I come back from, it's worse than ever. Vaatu and Ozai are a duo that, I'm afraid, is beyond me. I worry about the direction the world is going, and if I can come back to the moment when everything went wrong, when everything evil started, I can fix it and stop it all from happening."

Gyatso laughed. "If that is your conception, you must travel back much farther, Aang. Evil stretches back to the Beginning—for this is how it has been always. And I would have it no other way."

"You're wrong," he denied with possessive passion, eyes boring into Gyatso's face. "There was perfection once, and I'm going to get it back. Maybe there's nothing now and hasn't been for a long time due to our fall and the hatred in the world, but there was perfection once long ago, and I swear to return it. I don't want to keep worrying about the world. Then there doesn't need to be The Avatar, and The Avatar can die—finally."

"You don't need to worry about the world," Gyatso dismissed. "The world will be fine; it will go on and endure—as it has always. You may not comprehend how it will go on, but it will—that's the world's nature, and you know we are all beholden to our natures, which are beholden to Nature. I understand why you hate The Avatar, Aang. To you, The Avatar is the reason why all of this happened. You think it's The Avatar's failure that- "

"It's the fact that The Avatar exists," Aang correctly, voice close to harsh. "The Avatar's existence is a blight on the world."

Gyatso shook his head in disagreement. "You make yourself a scapegoat- "

"No, The Avatar is different from me."

Gyatso's eyes shadowed with dismay. "Oh, Aang. When did you become so dishonest?"

He felt uncomfortable. "When did you start judging me?" he muttered, trying to keep eye contact; he wavered every few moments.

"I've always judged you, Aang," Gyatso revealed gently. "But now my judgment feels severe because you aren't listening; you have closed yourself off. You are The Avatar."

"Yes, but I hate The Avatar," Aang hissed, managing barely not to howl it.

"When you hate something, you think of that thing but try to distance yourself from that thing, to make yourself the opposite of that thing. But you have not done that, not really, not truly, not genuinely. You just speak false words to conceal your actions."

Aang's fists clenched. "What are you talking about?"

Gyatso's gray eyes—his wonderful, miraculous eyes!—teemed with awareness. "You wield all the elements, and you mastered them utterly; you work constantly to refine your bending prowess with each, and you use your genius creativity to harmonize the elements with one another. You don't distance yourself from the other elements, wielding only air."

Aang leaned back, stunned. "You're right," he breathed, amazed—and disgusted because he should have done it sooner! "I should cast off the other elements."

"But your body yearns for its rightful, beautiful connection to Water, Earth, and Fire—just as much as it does for Air," Gyatso stressed with urgency. "Your soul cries out for you to embrace your heritage, the ancient inheritance bequeathed to you—because it's your inheritance and has been always. You must connect with it, Aang—for it's your nature, which you are beholden to, ultimately."

"I never wanted to be The Avatar!" he cried out. "Why would you ask this of me? I want The Avatar to die forever!"

"I know you never wanted to be The Avatar," Gyatso agreed, surprising him. "We all often are things we don't wish to be. I wish I had a firmer understanding of things; I wish I possessed a height similar to yours rather than my shorter stature- "

"That's different," he hissed.

"Is it?" Gyatso challenged kindly. "The intensity and depth are different, but the nature is the same. But I accept these things that I am, along with the things that I am not. You must accept that you are The Avatar, but you must also accept that you're not only an Airbender; you must accept that The Avatar is Aang and accept that The Avatar is not Aang, too, because The Avatar is more than only Aang. You must accept that The Avatar is your nature and Aang is your form."

Aang latched onto that desperately, trying not to drown. "See? That's it! Aang and The Avatar aren't the same!"

"They're not the same, but they are congruent, destined together; one cannot exist without the other. The Avatar is the tree; Aang is the branch. But a tree without its branches is no longer a tree. And by denying Aang and The Avatar's harmony, you deny Roku and The Avatar's harmony; you deny Kyoshi and The Avatar's harmony; and you deny all your predecessors, all of whom are you, their harmony with The Avatar. You deprive yourself of more than you know."

His insides felt on fire—his heart raged with the force of eons! "No, Aang and The Avatar are different!"

"But you are both," Gyatso decreed. "Must it be known?"

"Yes!"

"Wisdom is understanding that it doesn't matter, not in the end."

Aang swallowed. "But what matters is that I hate The Avatar, and how can I be The Avatar if I hate him?"

Gyatso's hand rested on his cheek for several moments. "You scapegoat The Avatar to avoid confronting the truth. This goes deeper. Who do you hate truly, Aang?"

He straightened at the question, surprised. "The Avatar."

Gyatso shook his head. "No. Again, this goes deeper. You can't look at surfaces; you must look at depths. You used to be so good at it when you were younger. Who haunts your nights because he marred your innocence? Who do you think is responsible for all of your pain and suffering?"

"Sozin," he said passionately—too passionately, a voice in his head that sounded remarkably like Azula judged.

Gyatso only smiled sadly. "Who do you hate, Aang?"

"Sozin," he tried again forcefully.

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"Fire."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"Everyone in that stupid place."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"The other races."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"Kuei."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"Ozai."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"Vaatu."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"The Tree."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"The Void."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"Life."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"Death."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

"The Avatar."

"Who do you hate, Aang?"

Aang's chest wavered and his eyes watered. "Please," he pleaded.

Gyatso only smiled sadly, eyes morose but clear. "Who do you hate, Aang?"

"That stupid boy!" he erupted, the force of his sudden onslaught of emotion jarring him, making his balance precarious. "It's the Boy—the Boy! It's all his fault! I hate him! He should have never been born! He was worth less than a dragon's shit!"

Silence.

"Yes," Gyatso whispered, face pained. "That boy is whom you hate."

Aang collapsed against Gyatso and squeezed desperately and shook silently as the sobs tore through him, and Gyatso only held him. "How did you know?" he choked out after a long time, voice breaking and shaking.

One of Gyatso's hands rested in his hair and the other on his back, between his shoulders. "Because I know that boy and how he thinks and, deep down, you're still that boy."

"I hate that boy."

"Because you hate yourself."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Yes. The Heir of Air is an error—the Error."

"You must forgive yourself by forgiving that boy." Gyatso pulled back and rested his hands on Aang's shoulders. "You're The Avatar, but not even you can fight forever."

"No," Aang denied, shaking his head, but knew the truth, deep down, impossible to deny—he was The Avatar and would be forever, in all his lifetimes. "I should have- "

"Forgive yourself, Aang," Gyatso repeated. "Forgive you. Forgive yourself by forgiving that boy; you must reunite with that beautiful, precious boy. You must let go and move on. You're ready now."

"But how?" he croaked, voice hoarse.

"You can start by loving your wife and living the life you already started; know your friends and embrace the challenges and hardships that afflict you. Be free."

"I don't need Azula," he denied, and he knew he lacked conviction, but he forced the words, regardless. "I met a woman here who will help me and accept me—Azula's own grandmother. She's pure, unlike Azula; her lineage is clean."

Gyatso was clearly surprised before he adapted effortlessly. "Then why did you not trust her to come with you?" A grin spread across Gyatso's face, and Aang nearly wept at the beautiful sight. "Why would you deny her the gift of knowing me?"

Aang laughed. "That really is a gift. But it's a gift I want only for me. I'm selfish."

"So, you didn't bring Azula's grandmother- "

"Rina."

"So, you didn't bring Rina with you out of a selfish impulse?"

"No," he replied. "I wanted to save her life. Sozin would kill her."

Gyatso shook his head. "You could kill Sozin before he could ever act on a violent impulse against her. There is nowhere in the world as safe as standing beside you and having your regard. But Rina didn't inspire your trust. You say she was free of Azula's impure lineage, but you should have trusted her to come with you because of it. With Azula, there's a part of you that suspects that she would take Sozin's side and join him, indulge in his 'anthem of conquest' because it's in her blood. But according to you, Rina lacks all of that impurity, but you still didn't bring her with you."

Aang exhaled roughly. "Because it's not her fight; it's mine! Sozin's mine—forever!"

"Then how can you share intimacy with her? I don't speak of physical intimacy- "

"I know," he snapped. "I'm not that child anymore who you have to explain things to."

Gyatso nodded, lips twitching. "No, you're not. Now I debate you rather than guide you. You're your own man, and I have no influence over you. What you do is your decision and no one else's."

Aang stared at him for several moments before looking away. "Fine. What do you think? Why didn't I bring Rina? Why didn't I trust her?"

"Because you love Azula and want her only, flaws and all—you want her as the Mother of Air. You could have had a 'perfected' Azula in Rina, but she isn't who you want. Because you want Azula's impure lineage, Aang—because that lineage is hers, and you love her for it, deep down. But you must release your shame of loving a woman born of her lineage."

Aang squeezed his eyes shut. "That lineage is why Air's gone."

"No, Air's lineage is why Air is gone. This is our fault, Aang. You confine the complexity of this onto Sozin- "

"I need a scapegoat," he hissed. "I always have—I always will! And Sozin is a deserving, worthy scapegoat."

"He is," Gyatso agreed.

"And he's better than blaming ourselves! Than blaming us! Than killing us! Making him the scapegoat is all that matters. All the history and reasons between our races is interesting, but it doesn't change that he's the one! It's him! It's always been him!"

"But a scapegoat doesn't solve your problems, and it will never bring you the peace for which you so desperately, restlessly yearn. In one way, Sozin is the source of Air's death and rebirth."

Aang cringed at the possibility—because he knew it was reality due to his marriage to Azula! It was awful! It was unholy! It was evil! "I don't want him to be. He doesn't deserve it."

"Who are you to make that judgment?"

His eyes bulged from their sockets. "What? I'm me! Out of anyone in the history of the world, I can make that judgment!"

"Can you?" Gyatso challenged kindly. "You disregard his humanity and perceive him only as a monster."

"Because he is one!" he shouted, aghast. "And that's exactly what Sozin did to us; he didn't see our humanity and wiped us out!"

"So, you want to be like Sozin?"

Aang flinched, trying to lean away, put distance between himself and Gyatso. "No! I mean, yes! Wait, no! But what if I do? He didn't care for the consequences, and I don't want to care, either!"

"But you do care, Aang, and you will always," Gyatso reminded. "And Sozin cares, too. The Sozin I knew cared deeply."

He froze for several moments, trying to comprehend the impossible. "You knew Sozin?"

Gyatso looked unconcerned by such a horrifying thing. "Roku introduced me to him at his wedding to Ta Min. We shared conversations over the course of several days. Sozin cares deeply, Aang—like you."

Aang shuddered at sharing any resemblance to Sozin. "But about different things," he stressed. "He doesn't care that he's going to murder an entire race and culture—he doesn't!"

"What does Air teach, Aang?"

Aang stiffened, understanding instantly what Gyatso meant by the look on his face. "Forgiveness."

"Yes."

"But I'm not ready to forgive Sozin; I'm never going to be ready to forgive him."

Gyatso smiled kindly. "But you can start by loving Azula for who and what she is without feeling ashamed, guilty, and resentful. You can accept that you yearn for her to be the Mother of Air and the Wife of the Four Nations; you can stop denying yourself and embrace her."

Aang hated that he felt himself wavering. "I don't know."

"What if Air needs Sozin?"

He blinked, astonished—certain he had heard wrong. "What?"

"Air has fallen, but it will rise again," Gyatso decreed. "What if Sozin is the agent through which Air is reborn, and that is why it's so fitting that you chose one of his heirs to be the Mother of Air?"

"I didn't choose Azula," he mumbled, looking down, avoiding Gyatso's knowing gaze. "It wasn't me-me; it was my penis."

Gyatso ignored his lame, unconvincing excuse. "You did choose her, and you continue to deny not only yourself but her. You love her, and you trust her, ultimately. This Rina you met isn't who you want."

Aang glanced at him. "How do you know?"

Gyatso laughed. "Because I know you. To fall in love means, inevitably, to fall out of love. If you stayed here and changed Life's direction, I suspect you would fall in love with Rina and later fall out of love with her. Falling in love and being in love are different, Aang. With Azula, you are in the latter, which is a priceless gift."

Aang scoffed, turning away. "How do you know? Who have you loved, truly and fully, like that?"

"You," Gyatso said simply, like it was the most obvious thing, and Aang swallowed. "I have been in love with you since I met you, and I shall still be in love with you in the Gardens."

Aang shuddered. "Why have you ever loved me? Why would you do it?"

"Because you're you. I don't love you because you are good, Aang; I love you so that you become good. It's never about what you do; it's about what you are."

He closed his eyes and sagged against the wall. "Then you know why I can't do this."

Gyatso placed a steady hand on his shoulder. "I know why you won't let yourself, and I know that you had to come here to reach your peace to let go and move on."

The doubt consumed him. "With Azula?"

"With everything, of which Azula is part," Gyatso corrected gently, eyes consuming him, leaving a trail of presence across his body. "You're not going to let this happen because of love for Azula or your friends or the life you live there; you let it happen because you understand, deep down, it's right—because it happened already. This is What Is, Aang, and you must align with it—it's nature. You hate that it's right, you resent that it's right, but you understand it is right. There is so much wrong with this world, with this era, with this time. You never knew how wrong because you were so young, which is why you've struggled so deeply; you are in love with a past, with a race, that never existed, that was built-up to a standard in your mind that was always unattainable. You came here to restore What Was, to restore us, but the race that you saw us as isn't What Was; we never were. But now you have slowly learned of the truth about this era, about the world, and most importantly, the truth about our race. What happened happened for a reason—many reasons. But now you understand more why it happened. The Great Tree is right, Aang, and you know It is, deep down. I know you do."

"How do you know?" he asked desperately.

Gyatso looked almost amused. "Because you hide yourself from everyone, and you've spent hours having this conversation with me when you could have evacuated the temple, no matter how much I tried to stop you. You came to me to learn and find peace rather than simply go to Sozin, kill him effortlessly, and devour his armies. Your journey is not a journey of destruction—destroying Sozin, destroying Sozin's armies, destroying anyone who tries to follow Sozin, destroying the world that came to be—but a journey of discovery."

Aang bowed his head onto Gyatso's shoulder, crinkling robes, scrunching his face into Gyatso's neck. "I don't want to go," he croaked. "I want to die here; I deserve to die here."

"You will die here, but not on this day; you have so much life to live, Aang; you have a reign to oversee."

"I want to die here with you."

Gyatso's hand rubbed the side of his head, fingers curling through his hair; it felt nice. "Aang, the future—your time—isn't the afterbirth; it's the rebirth."

"There shouldn't have to be rebirth."

"It's the way of the world. Rebirth is necessary always, and we needed rebirth a long time ago."

Aang's eyes swelled with tears, a miracle in and of itself considering he had already wept so much. "I want to be reborn with you."

Gyatso patted the side of his head. "You will evoke our rebirth, which is so much better. You will be the greatest of us to ever live, Avatar or no."

"I don't care about that."

"I know you don't," Gyatso consoled. "But you must accept living your life without us as you thought we were. You must free yourself. You have been a slave to us this whole time, shackled to your perception of us, which mired your perception of all other things. You must learn to breathe on your own for you."

Aang shook his head, scrunching his race into Gyatso's robes. "I can't. Only by breathing for you can I live."

Gyatso pulled away with a tender, soft expression on his face. "You don't need to breathe for Air, Aang; you need to breathe for yourself." He felt powerless as Gyatso pulled him out of the treasure room, bypassing the unconscious monks, and toward the wall on the other side. "Make a hole in the wall," Gyatso encouraged gently. "Do it now."

"Why?"

At Gyatso's patient look, he swiped part of the stone away, providing a perfect, spherical window, a vantage over the many young boys playing airball; he no longer felt like joining them.

"Take a breath, Aang," Gyatso whispered, words hanging in the air like a melody. "Stop breathing for us, trying to keep us alive; breathe for you and let yourself live. Breathe. Do it with me."

When Gyatso inhaled slowly, Aang mimicked him, finding solace in his simple, easy, impossible-to-stop breaths. For the first time in a long time, it didn't hurt to breathe; it was no longer painful.

"It's okay to breathe, Aang," Gyatso whispered, gray eyes more kind than he ever deserved. "It's okay to be you. Live. Don't hold yourself so staunchly that you can't breathe; be the leaf in the wind and experience Life. Breathe; be mortal."

Aang swallowed, falling to his knees, exhausted; he couldn't stand up anymore, body breaking and withering—because he had been holding himself so staunchly. "I came here to be an immortal," he whispered. "I came to be The Avatar—because an immortal can change What Is. A mortal can't."

Gyatso smiled kindly and cradled his cheek; he looked relieved and overjoyed—and unbelievably proud. "This is my final lesson to you. Changing What Is isn't fulfilling; it brings nothing. But accepting What Is is fulfilling. Can't you feel it?"

Aang wanted to shake his head, rant and rage, shake the heavens with his defiant roar of indomitable power, but he nodded instead, surrendering to Truth as his neck slung his head as it lolled forward; he felt like he could rest for the first time since learning he was The Avatar.

"This is who and what you are, Aang," Gyatso said. "You are finally connected. Immortality is nonliving; mortality is living. You can live now; you can breathe. You can pause, rest, and take the breaths you yearn to. It will be okay."

Silence.

"I'm powerless against this," he confessed. "I came back to change all of that, to save you, but you're still going to die, even if I saved you. The nature is the same, but the form will be different, and I want to change the nature, but there is no changing the nature. Air will be consumed by death, one way or another."

Gyatso's face weathered with sad truth. "Yes. It's What Is."

He didn't know how long he sat there, back angled against the stone awkwardly, but his spirit felt empty—even though it teemed with primordial power. "I wish I could stay here," he said, shivering. "I want to. You're the love of my life. Did you know that?"

"I know," Gyatso soothed. "I wish I had more time with you, but the fact we had this last conversation, and I see who you become and see who you will become is a gift. You gave me a gift, Aang; you're the greatest gift of my life. Thank you."

Aang scrubbed his face with his hands, raw from the endless tears. "Thank you for loving me; thank you for not giving up on me."

Gyatso sat down beside him, and Aang leaned over until his head rested on Gyatso's shoulder. "That's the role of a mentor. Some fail and some do not. It relieves me that you think I succeeded."

"I don't know if the role of a mentor will continue," he said softly. "There's a child descended from one of our nuns long ago during Kuruk's reign; it was actually the nun married to Houka and bore his half-spawn heir, Zyrn. But this child's name is Samir, and she's a half-spawn, an Earth mother and Fire father, but from her father, she's descended from that nameless nun married to Houka and mother of Zyrn. She's an Airbender; she was born with Air's energy."

"That's wonderful," Gyatso assured. "I don't know how it's possible with how long it's been, but she's in whom Air's blood flows. It's a miracle."

Aang nodded, weary, knowing the known explanation of Samir's airbending made no sense, but he had no other information that could inform his understanding. "I've tried training her—I've tried. But she's so pathetic; she's so weak; she's so stupid because she can't understand anything or do as I tell her. She's not real like we are because she's just an imposter. She's so imperfect because she's not like us; she's not good."

Gyatso elbowed him gently, gray eyes knowing. "But we're not perfect, are we? We've been imposters of ourselves for generations."

He sagged. "I guess not."

"Don't expect perfection from her," Gyatso advised. "What's she like?"

Aang swallowed at his memory of Samir, who had called him 'Daddy' as he left the Eastern Temple to go to Hu Xin to fight Ozai. "Besides the terrible, appalling airbending, she's wonderful. I think I love her. I'm going to adopt her. I don't know when, but I know I will."

Gyatso smiled. "You'll be good to her. Something tells me you haven't always been so far."

He sighed in agreement. "I know. I'll need to apologize to her; I think I'll need to apologize to everyone."

"What about Azula? What do you like about her?"

A slight smile spread across his lips. "She looks to Air, and she loves it; she tore through the Eastern Temple's library while we stayed there, reading many scrolls, asking me questions, challenging me—just wanting to learn the truth. She's free, and she loves freedom; she understands responsibility and accountability; she's very wise and understands things that I don't. She's also patient, and while she can be ferocious—very ferocious—I've seen her possess such a calming serenity, even a gentleness, too."

The memory of Azula with Samir was particularly striking.

"And she's a princess?"

He nodded. "Daughter of Sozin's grandson, Fire Lord Ozai."

Gyatso grinned. "But a beautiful princess, right?"

"Very. The wind sometimes carries her lush dark hair," he recalled quietly. "I like to watch it flow; it almost seems like water sometimes, rippling; it almost seems alive."

"I'm sure it's only the wind carrying it," Gyatso said with a wink.

Aang flushed at the insinuation that he had made the wind brush through Azula's hair. "Maybe once or twice," he admitted.

"Will Azula adopt Samir, too?"

Aang didn't know, but he suspected the answer. "I think so. I never knew if she would be a good mother, but she's so good with Samir—she's better with her than I am. I don't know how she does it."

"From what it sounds like, Azula always had a warrior's disposition and strategist's mind, but now she's revealed to have, as well, a sage's voice and mother's heart. She's splendid. She is your wife already, according to Air."

"That might not be the wisest custom," he confessed after several moments, remembering how he married Azula. "All my children will be half Fire; they'll be passionate, and I don't expect all my sons to marry a single woman; some of them will inevitably spread their seeds far and wide, I'm sure. Air wouldn't like them having multiple wives."

"Maybe we are wrong about it," Gyatso agreed kindly. "Air has been right about many things, but the things we've been wrong about are big things. We disconnected ourselves to pursue enlightenment, but enlightenment is only achieved by connection—connecting to something greater and whole. But marriage is connection. Maybe the only way to connect with Life is to build momentum by making the smaller connections in Life, such as marriage and children, the foundation from which all flows. Water, Earth, Fire, and Air are all connected intimately, Aang. You are The Avatar and embody the whole of the Four Nations; you embody each of the elements. Air made mistakes—debilitating mistakes that brought us to this moment, the imminence of our destruction—and you must fix our mistakes to make a stronger Air, not as fallible and flawed. You must make whatever changes to our customs and ethics as you see fit. Return us to our roots, Aang—that's the most crucial thing."

"We'll be nomads again," Aang vowed. "And I'm pretty sure there won't be mentors anymore. I'm a terrible mentor."

"The role of a father will suffice," Gyatso consoled. "Your children will be beautiful, Aang—so like that precious, kind boy."

Aang swallowed. "I don't want to ruin them. And I'm afraid I'll ruin Samir with my expectations."

"Remember your reason and honesty, and you will succeed," Gyatso advised, hand coming up to rest on his head, fingers exploring the thick hair.

Aang's eyes closed at the pleasant feeling, and all was quiet for a long time; they took solace and joy in simply being in each other's presences one last time—having the closure.

"Will you shave your head?"

Aang smiled slightly. "I'm not sure. I don't know if Azula would like it, and as you've lectured me, she matters to me—a lot."

Gyatso chuckled. "It doesn't matter. Have a few decades with your hair before it disappears, and you will never need to shave your head—for it will already be bald."

"I want anonymity," he said after several moments. "The tattoo of mastery prevents that. It's why I grew out my hair—because I didn't want people to recognize me."

"An understandable solution," Gyatso commended without judgment; it was a profound relief. "You know the reason we shave our heads, and you know why we wear the tattoo of mastery, but changes may be needed. Only you can decide. But whatever you choose, I will be proud of you—because I know you gave reasonable consideration to your options."

Aang nodded. "Thank you, Gyatso."

"Now you must tell me—from which friend did you learn such a descriptive phrase? 'Worth less than a dragon's shit.'"

Aang smiled slightly. "Zuko."

"That's a Fire name."

"He's Azula's brother; he becomes Fire Lord."

"Another heir of Sozin," Gyatso observed with a soft smile. "You have good friends, Aang. Cherish them. They made mistakes, and they will make mistakes, but the test of a friend is if he is capable of forgiving mistakes. That's why Air loves forgiveness because forgiveness is connected to friendship, and friendship is the root of love."

Aang sighed. "I know that, but I'm not sure I ever understood it. Maybe Azula did and tried to tell me—I don't know. Sometimes I think she has a better understanding of Air than I do—because I thought I understood everything about Air for so long, but I only understood my misunderstandings. I thought I was successful, but I was only failing."

Gyatso hummed in agreement. "There comes a point always where you must succeed but you fail, instead. That's what it means to live. Now you recognize your failure and will learn from it. If you're not at peace, the world will never be either. The Darkness that threatens the Realms isn't Vaatu but yourself—because you desperately cling to the past."

"And he who clings to the past can never see clearly," he recited, remembering Gyatso saying that fact to him when he was younger; he finally understood what it meant.

"You must let go, and you have," Gyatso commended. "I've never been prouder of you. You learned, which must be the striving of us all."

He laughed slightly. "I watched you in your meeting with the other Elders of the High Council."

There wasn't any surprise on Gyatso's face. "I had wondered. I didn't know it was you, but I thought there may be someone listening and watching."

Aang nodded, swallowing thickly. "Could any of them have ever learned from their failures like I'm slowly learning from mine?"

Gyatso's eyes shaded with somber denial. "If they could have, they would have."

He felt too tired to give any physical acknowledgement; his head rested against Gyatso's shoulder, eyes staring ahead, engrossed by the glistening treasures visible in the open doorway across the hall. "I don't know how much time we have left," he whispered. "I don't know when it's going to start."

"Then we must act while we can," Gyatso said, helping him to his feet. "You can clean yourself and grab new garbs. I'll help you."

Aang felt and heard a fond but withered laugh escape him. "You haven't bathed me since I was knee-high."

Gyatso pulled him forward through the halls, leaving the treasure doorway open, giving it no concern. "Do you know how many robes you ruined with all your splashing and games?"

"You dried them out," he defended, feeling lighter slightly at the precious memories.

"They were still a little stiff after that," Gyatso said with a chuckle. "But something tells me Water garbs are resistant to water's affects."

Aang forgot he had been wearing Water Tribe garbs and shrugged half-heartedly. "I don't know."

Gyatso led him through the temple, and surprisingly, they encountered no one else during their trip to one of the springs built into the temple. But when he realized how much time had passed, he made the connection that it was mealtime with everyone congregated into the dining hall. He had been talking with Gyatso for most of the day, from morning to the start of evening as dusk settled with Agni's diminishment.

But something in his gut told him that Sozin's Comet was coming—that it would arrive with a swarm of Sozin's forces. Once, he would have flown out to meet them and smite them out of the sky or off the mountain—however they planned on reaching the temple. But things were different now.

A big part of him wished things weren't different—that he was still the man who arrived in the morning, possessed by hatred and misunderstandings. But he only felt tired and worn, and whatever hatred he felt was towards himself that he had been so full of misunderstandings.

He felt Gyatso's eyes on him as he undressed and knew his scars, specifically the one on his back, marring the tattoo of mastery of its perfection, were visible to see, but for the first time in years, he didn't feel like hiding his tattoo of mastery. He felt free to embrace it for now, trusting Gyatso more than anyone—because Gyatso would never take advantage of him. When he sank into the fresh water, he groaned at the pleasant sensation, soaking through him, settling everywhere; he didn't want to move—and he didn't.

"Wash off all the grime," Gyatso whispered from the side. "Cleanse yourself."

Aang knew there were many layers—not all of them physical—to wash off, and he dunked himself in the spring and spun the water around him, spraying everywhere with force, peeling away anything sticking to him; he wished to peel away everything sticking to his soul, but he knew no water—not even from the Spirit Oasis in the North—could do it.

He had no idea how long he sat, submerged, inside the spring, but when he surfaced, water dripping out of his hair and down his beard, it was noticeably darker outside; he sputtered to clear his mouth of moisture. "This was a good idea," he whispered in acknowledgment, feeling cleaner—though still heavy. He hadn't bathed in months, truly.

Toph would be proud.

Gyatso's eyes were sad as they roamed his body, pausing at each scar he saw. "You've had a hard life. I'm sorry I didn't prepare you for it."

He scrubbed his face and rubbed his beard, beginning to dry it. "I don't blame you—you should know that."

"But I still regret my choices."

Aang's lips quirked, though it didn't feel genuine. "Now you know how I feel."

Gyatso only watched him with something resembling longing and sadness; Aang felt similarly. "I want to watch you grow, but I won't—I want to see what you become. I know what you will become, but I want to see it with my own eyes."

"I want you to see it, too," he confessed softly, pausing in his movements. "But you're going to die here. You're not going to see any of it."

"But I will know it—it will have to be enough. It will be."

Aang smiled tightly, face dismayed. "I know, but I don't believe it."

"Let go, Aang," Gyatso encouraged, smiling in inspiration. "Release it all. Master your chakras now."

He paused, watching Gyatso for several moments. "You know about my chakras?"

Gyatso nodded. "I know you haven't mastered them yet, but you can now—I know you will."

"Are yours mastered?"

"Yes."

Aang felt no surprise that Gyatso had mastered his chakras. "We shouldn't do this now- "

"When would be a better time?"

"Azula wants to teach me."

Gyatso grinned. "Something tells me that she will understand why you looked to a different teacher."

He inhaled roughly, surprised by how heavy but prepared he felt. "I think I'm ready to do it."

"You are," Gyatso confirmed swiftly with powerful adamance.

It inspired his own belief and closed his eyes. He looked inward, focusing on all the pools of energy in his chi, all of which were hindered, despite his overwhelming energy. The energy itself was untainted, but the actual flow of the energy was sluggish—and it was everything. He hadn't noticed previously, but he had sealed his Earth Chakra at some point, the same one he had mastered with Azula at the Eastern Temple. But he needed to master it again—and all the other chakras he had never mastered.

"I'm scared, guilty, ashamed, aggrieved, deceived, disillusioned, and attached," he whispered, eyes still closed as he saw countless memories and images flashing through his mind—born of both times in which he had lived.

"You're always going to be those things," Gyatso said gently, voice reaching him, piercing through all the memories and images, anchoring him in place. "Those things come and go, and you must let them come and go—don't fight it. Stop fighting it, Aang. Let them take you where they need to take you and let them go when you need to let them go. Stop holding onto them; stop letting them define you; stop letting them possess you. You must let go. You're not letting go of all the memories and feelings associated with each; you're letting go of the power each holds over you, liberating you from the slavery we all suffer from at points in our lives. Let go. Suffer no more; agonize no more. Be you, Aang, not what these things have made you—be free."

Aang shuddered and felt spasms ripple through him, sourced in his chi pathways as each chakra opened, unbound from its hindrances as he achieved mastery. With each chakra he mastered, doing the work, letting go, it felt like a musical series of openings, happening in a rhythm, bringing his body alive in mastery. His chi's flow increased, smoothing out, rushing through his pathways in an intensifying flood with each chakra mastered, building momentum as he continued onto each.

He was finally ready to do it.

More power surged through him, facilitated by the cleaner chi pathways, which allowed him more access to the power that he had always had. He felt cleaner and more vibrant, more vigorous and complete; it was a wonderful, riveting sensation.

The cosmic bridge shimmered before him, guiding him to his counterpart's massive body, which emanated with primordial power, provided by his heart, in which rested the source of himself. The indescribably ancient and profound yearning to reunite with himself swept through him, and he no longer resented it; he felt soothed by it. He began to run across the bridge, getting closer and closer to his counterpart. Before he could truly think about what he was doing, he bolted forward even faster and leapt into his counterpart's massive body, diving directly into his heart. The power was unimaginable, yet it was soothing instead of overwhelming, bringing him love and peace as it all flowed into him.

"Hello, Aang," The Avatar greeted in a mesmerizing whisper, which permeated all of his being, filling him—completing him.

"I've missed you," he replied, unable to keep the tears at bay, and they began to stream down his face slowly, the realization that he was finally connecting with what he truly was, and he no longer had to hate it or resent it—he no longer had to want to kill it. He was at peace with it.

He forgave The Avatar—he forgave himself for being The Avatar.

"And I you," The Avatar agreed. "There is work to do, but we will never be apart again. I have all faith in you. Everywhere you go, I will be with you—because you are me, and all those who were you are me. We are bonded forever."

He wiped away his tears and embraced The Avatar, his connection to all his past lives strengthening even further, and his power increased immeasurably. Joy spread through him because he could feel how much he had missed it. Memories of his life assaulted his mind, showing him the loneliness that he had felt for the past years—his entire life—without ever knowing it.

Aang came back to his body with a gasp, eyes squeezed shut as he felt the significance—his connection with himself ever-present, his energy flowing through him like a contained maelstrom of absolute power.

He felt free for the first time since he learned he was The Avatar.

But when he opened his eyes, he realized he was floating, recognizing the sensation of weightlessness, untethered from the ground.

He had finally done it, mastered the ancient, obscure airbending art of true flight! Let go of the misconceptions that plague you, the scroll had instructed. Enter the void, embody Air, and walk on the winds.

It had worked—he had done it!

He had let go of his misconceptions, allowing him to unlock the ability to achieve true flight! Euphoria swept through his mind and Aang, under his own power instead of Kirku's, levitated higher, a huge grin splitting his features. He had to be careful, though, because even now, he could understand why the black-haired Air Nomad, Zaheer, refused to tether himself back to the ground in the face of Avatar Keska's orders for Aang himself felt the strong urge to never touch the ground again. Feeling the Earthbender within him, he grasped his renowned control, refusing to allow himself to go even more insane than he already was by staying untethered. He slowly lowered himself, body becoming one with the ground once again, the knowledge that he could become weightless ever-present.

Gyatso beamed with radiant joy and pride, tears glistening in his gray eyes. "You did it, Aang," he whispered, looking choked with emotion. "You are you—finally."

Aang felt equally overwhelmed. "I'm sorry it took me so long."

"No," Gyatso said with adamance, shaking his head. "Never say that. You weren't ready, but now you are. Look at you—look how far you've come. You came here to deface What Is, but now you accept it—you understand its rightness. You can go home now, Aang. This was your home, but it's not your home anymore—it hasn't been for a long time. But you held onto it; you labored over it, not seeing what you were doing. But now you see. You can go home—you can be free. You can live your life and feel the love you want to."

"Thank you," he croaked, dazed by all the emotions flooding him. "I love you so much. I couldn't do this without you."

Gyatso smiled. "And I love you, Aang. Air loves you. You can carry our love with you now; you don't have to let it burden you anymore. You can live with your wife, Samir, and the friends you made. You can live in the world you're meant to; you can live in and with What Is."

"There's so much more I want to tell you about it," he whispered, guilty. "I only told you so many terrible things."

Gyatso's grin flashed for the briefest moment. "I thought there were only terrible things to tell."

Aang's laughter escaped in a rough, choked exhale as he nodded. "I know. You were right—I was wrong."

"You were learning. Being wrong is part of learning."

"Most of it's been terrible, but there's been a few good things."

Gyatso's eyes softened. "Something tells me that there's been more than a few if you look—if you see. But you haven't seen, Aang, have you?"

He shook his head. "No, I haven't," he agreed. "I never saw. I need to start seeing. Is there anything you want to know? I'll tell you anything—you know I will."

Gyatso's eyes pinched. "What about the scar on your back? It's different than the others."

He felt the scar and its memory—the Boy would receive it inevitably now. "Lightning," he recalled, voice soft and almost pensive. "It almost killed me. I was barely alive when a girl I knew named Katara healed me, stabilizing me and all the damage." Something dim but mischievous darted through him. "I bet you'll never guess who shot the lightning."

Silence.

Aang watched Gyatso's gray eyes swim with rapid possibilities before a suspicious knowing froze in their depths. "Azula?" Gyatso guessed after several moments.

He felt surprised, though he knew he shouldn't have. "How did you know?"

A brief laugh escaped Gyatso. "She sounds capable of it, and it was a short leap to assume the capabilities of the woman you married—because only you would marry a woman who shot lightning at you. And you would only challenge me to guess if I was familiar with the shooter, and I know of Azula based on what you've told me. She seems splendid and exceptional."

A simultaneous amused but sorrowful sensation swept through him. "She is. I'm guessing she's going to tell our children about it. She may promise to shoot me for any of them if I anger them."

Gyatso smiled. "Then you should treat them graciously."

He thought of how he had treated Samir, reminded of his mortifying treatment of her. "I know."

Aang went to dress himself in the Water Tribe garbs, Gyatso held up a hand. "No, leave them and follow me."

"I'm naked," he observed dryly.

Gyatso laughed briefly. "You left this temple in fear but leave it now without fear. Be free. There is no judgment now—because the judgment was always yours."

Aang nodded, staring up at the sky, eyes tracing the stars. "But I've learned."

"Let Air's presence touch you one last time, enveloping you completely," Gyatso advised, eyes soft. "Let us tell you goodbye."

He swallowed with emotion and nodded, afraid to speak; he floated alongside Gyatso after burning the Water Tribe garbs to frayed seams, feeling the wind wrap around him, brushing and swaying with intimacy, cool and soothing like a lover's touch, enhancing his senses—giving him a memory to cherish for the rest of his life. He had never noticed before that he walked everywhere with a weight that made him feel unnatural. But it wasn't so anymore, leaving only a liberated emanation. He was more balanced, cleansing him of whatever ailments from which he had suffered for so long.

He felt reborn.

As he followed Gyatso, amazed that they were both floating through the air, walking the winds, he realized suddenly that he had no idea where the Southern Temple kept clothing; he had found Air Nomad garbs after the Great War after he had grown only in the Eastern Temple.

Aang felt the blood drain away from his face in a rush when he realized where they were going; it was where he had seen Gyatso's skeleton after his awakening from the Iceberg, where the armor of slain Firebenders had assaulted his younger self's eyes!

He froze in mid-air. "Stop," he whispered, panic and horror returning swiftly. "If you stay here, you die."

Gyatso stopped, as well, but his gray eyes were solemn but determined. "I know. This is my choice, Aang."

"I wish it wasn't."

"Come," Gyatso encouraged, bringing him to the building.

Rows of Air Nomad garbs met his eyes, and he nodded slowly in understanding but grief, too. Before he could say anything, his lips parted as the unforgettable feeling of fire flushing through his blood swept through him; outside, the sky was undoubtedly bathed in red.

Aang's eyes closed at the onslaught of realization. "It's here," he said, feeling dazed; he knew what he was about to witness, and though he had accepted it, the horror was shrill and terrifying. "Sozin will be here soon—if he's not already."

Gyatso said nothing as he picked out large adult garbs, which he handed to him. He slipped them on, and though they hung off him in many places, he knew once he regained his healthy mass, they would fit perfectly.

He and Gyatso stared at each other in silence, gray eyes roaming, memorizing, loving.

"How do I say goodbye?" Aang asked softly, pained, feeling stuck, rooted in position. "How do I do it?"

Gyatso closed his eyes for several moments before he opened them and reached into his robes, pulling out to two small scrolls. "I want you to have these."

Aang stared at them. "What are they? Airbending forms?"

"Portraits."

He blinked as Gyatso handed them to him; he accepted with a swallow and opened one. He staggered as he saw two Air Nomads—one man and one woman, both in their prime, beautiful and strong, both with black hair on their heads with only the arrowhead of their tattoos of mastery visible, and they seemed united and tall, a powerful union with kind smiles and lovely eyes—with a black-haired baby. And the black-haired baby was a joyful, vibrant baby with several tiny teeth visible in his jubilant smile, face flushed, cheeks fat, even in the portrait, with happiness, and the baby's gray eyes—the same shade as the woman's eyes—were alive with vitality, curiosity, and wonder.

It was a family—a beautiful, happy family.

He felt the temple begin to shake and heard the roars of dragons, but he was distant to it, absorbed by the portrait, which spoke to him on a primal level.

"Is that me?" he asked, voice trembling, doing his best not to wrinkle or compromise the portrait as his fingers brushed over the black-haired baby and his parents.

Gyatso nodded, though he felt it more than saw it; his eyes were riveted on the portrait. "And your parents."

"Tenzin and Jinora."

"Yes."

"How old was I in this?" Aang croaked, awed.

"Ten months," Gyatso answered, voice equally soft, despite the ground shaking beneath them; screams erupted outside, haunting and piercing, but it didn't compromise them. "By then, they had known you were The Avatar for well over a year; they told me they knew when you were four months along in Jinora's womb. They were happy people who knew responsibility and wisdom. I knew them well; I visited them often and helped when I could, confusing the High Council by telling them they were seen in a different location. Your parents did everything they could to love you—to keep you. They were killed when you were two years old."

Aang swallowed and tried to imagine it; he failed. "The High Council killed them."

"Yes."

He bowed his head, though kept his eyes riveted on the portrait; it was the most valuable thing he had ever seen in his life. "I wish I knew them; I wish I remembered them. Thank you for this, Gyatso. How did you get it? Did they give it to you?"

"It was in your father's robes when he was killed," Gyatso notified, voice somber. "I took it before the High Council could destroy it."

"I look like him," Aang said, swallowing, mesmerized as his eyes roamed the face of his father—Tenzin.

Gyatso smiled slightly in confirmation. "And Jinora, too."

He finally tore his eyes away from the portrait to look at the other scroll; he gently furled the first one, secured it in his robes—he would never forgive himself it he ruined it—and opened the second one.

Aang inhaled sharply and felt his tears mist in his eyes; emotions began to strangle him. It was another portrait, but instead of three people in it, there were only two—one adult and one child.

It was him and Gyatso.

Gyatso looked the same, but there was an eternized laugh on his face, frozen forever—preserved forever—as he looked down at a young boy, probably around three years old, sitting on his knee, and the boy—himself—was laughing, too, gazing up at Gyatso, head bald but with no tattoo of mastery; they were laughing together, having fun, faces radiant, expressive, and in love.

"That was on our first trip to the Fire Nation to visit Torunor, Kuzon's father," Gyatso said, voice fond. "The High Council was furious that I left with you, but it was worth it to get this. It's my greatest treasure besides my memories."

Aang nodded, too strangled for words, but he gently furled the portrait and secured it in his robes next to the first portrait—he would cherish them the rest of his life. He stared at Gyatso with tears in his eyes, bright with emotion—reflected by Gyatso.

"Take this, too," Gyatso said, voice more emotional than it ever was before. He unclasped the necklace around his neck, the familiar, beaded necklace he had seen all his life. He reached up and placed it over Aang's head and around his neck. "You can do with it what you will. Maybe give it to Samir if you want."

He shuddered. "Thank you," he choked out. "Just thank you.

Gyatso pulled him into a fierce hug, and Aang embraced him back with equal strength as the world died around them—as the screams and shaking only intensified with Sozin's Comet in the sky. "You can do this," Gyatso affirmed kindly, kissing the side of his head. "I have all faith in you—I always have and always will."

Aang nodded, memorizing how Gyatso felt against him, trying to pull him into himself for a permanence. "I love you, Gyatso."

"I love you, too, Aang."

They let go of each other, and Aang knew it would be the last time he would ever see him—and knew he somehow had to walk away. He saw the truth glimmering in Gyatso's eyes and felt assured that he was doing the right thing, guided by the gentle affirmation he saw.

"Let go, Aang," Gyatso whispered, tears thickening in his gray eyes.

Before he could respond, a voice echoed outside. "Check in here! Some are hiding in here! It's a perfect spot to hide! Kill everyone! Find The Avatar!"

Gyatso nodded in kind encouragement, doing nothing as Aang felt an Airbender—likely Afiko, who was, indeed, the Betrayer—and Imperial Firebenders surround the building, trapping everyone inside, as they prepared to invade the building.

"Let go, Aang," Gyatso repeated gently.

Aang stayed as long as he could, eyes locked onto Gyatso, memorizing him, imprinting him in his mind with all the power he possessed, but when Afiko—the Betrayer!—led dozens of Imperial Firebenders into the building, he disappeared into the earth; he tunneled out swiftly, appearing out of the mountain, and he surged into the sky, killing the dragons that attacked him immediately with unrestrained firebending attacks against their underbellies, which were vulnerable. But as he went higher in the sky, he focused on the building, and saw the roof destroyed, providing him a perfect vantage, watching as Gyatso battled all the Imperial Firebenders, fueled by Sozin's Comet.

Afiko had been smashed back outside the building, slowly picking himself up. "That's The Avatar's mentor!" he cried out, trying to be heard over the roar of flames. "Don't kill him! We need him alive! He's the only one who knows where The Avatar is!"

But Aang watched as the Imperial Firebenders didn't hear Afiko's command, attacking Gyatso with everything they had, but Gyatso directed massive gusts of wind to sweep the attacks away. Though, Gyatso was at a severe disadvantage due to the tight, enclosed space around him, which meant that the fires were even more potent, he responded to each attack with a grace and mastery that Aang was mesmerized by. He always knew Gyatso was powerful, but it was another thing to see it, watching him defeat tide after tide, blowing them off the mountain or smashing them back into each other, breaking bones.

Gyatso was drawing attention from other Imperial Firebenders throughout the temple, who ran to try to kill him, but Gyatso killed each of them, punching his arms with intensity, rapid burst upon rapid burst, attacking before the Imperial Firebenders could react. Suddenly, when a large hoard rushed at him, Aang watched as Gyatso rotated his arms, and Aang felt it as it happened, even in the sky—the air vanished from the vicinity, deprived by Gyatso. No one could breathe, and all the Imperial Firebenders, even those still recovering from Gyatso's first attacks, died of suffocation, unable to use their firebending even under Sozin's unholy Comet.

The Fire Nation soldiers were dead, lying in front of and around Gyatso in piles and piles; Aang remembered how he had done something similar to Kuei, the Council of Five, the Dai Li, and Ozai.

But more Imperial Firebenders appeared soon, undeterred by the piles of bodies everywhere, smashing bones as they dashed forward, uncaring about those dead. The Comet-enhanced Firebenders swarmed Gyatso, but the air howled inside the building, morphing into violent, skin and metal-cutting wind; the bodies began to fall, their lungs being crushed by Gyatso's lethal attacks as he compressed the air in their lungs until they burst. Gusts of wind flattened them against the wall, shattering their spines in spite of their armor and soon enough, no Firebenders remained.

But Afiko, who tried to bypass all the bodies to strike at Gyatso, remained.

A mighty gust of wind smashed the Betrayer out of the building, and he crashed into the blood-stained stone of the mountain. Gyatso stepped out of the building, carefully avoiding stepping on those who sought to murder him, giving them dignity and respect. Aang's breath hitched at the visible burns covering Gyatso's arms and face, along with the visible limp with which he walked; his Air Nomad robes were singed at the edges, but he was still alive.

"Why would you do this, Afiko?" Gyatso demanded, heard through Aang's airbending. "Why betray us?"

"I do this for Air!" Afiko snapped. "The High Council led us to our destruction, and if not this day, it would have been another day! We have to start over. You're all fools, going along with the High Council as they led us by the hand over the cliff! And we would be unable to fly out of it!"

Gyatso shook his head. "To keep us from destroying ourselves, you decided to ally with the Fire Lord, who does destroy us?"

"But I will father our race as we should be," Afiko replied. "And you would stop me. I can't have that. I have been taught the way of fools—the way you follow! We are weak; we were once the greatest of the races, but no more because of the oh-so-wise High Council! I have taken steps to ensure our race returns more powerful than ever; the father of the new Air Nomads will be me, sired by me!"

"It won't be you," Gyatso refuted calmly, looking into the distance. "Your criticisms of what has become of us are true. You are right in so many ways, but to actively destroy us like this is wrong. You condemn the High Council, as you should, but you act just like them by doing this. You have no wisdom—you never have. The Avatar will redeem us, not you."

Afiko's face spasmed with sudden hatred, and Aang tensed when he saw another large group of Firebenders approach Gyatso and paled in horror when he realized who led them.

Sozin.

"Most esteemed Fire Lord," the Betrayer called out. "This is the Avatar's mentor!"

Sozin stood before Gyatso while Afiko and the other Firebenders stood behind him "Where is he?" Sozin demanded, glaring at Gyatso. "Afiko told me the boy fled mere days ago. Where did he go?"

Gyatso simply stared back at Sozin. "You are not welcome here, Sozin."

Sozin glanced at the piles of corpses all around him—all Imperial Firebenders, no Airbenders. "I thought Air Nomads were benevolent and hospitable."

"Only to those not consumed by fear."

Sozin's face spasmed. "I fear nothing, least of all my death. I reclaim what you stole from us, and if Earth wishes to fight for you, however disingenuously, I will culture them; I will culture whoever wants to fight us, tempering their destructive impulses like we of Fire temper ours."

Gyatso shook his head. "Don't pretend to care so profoundly about the fates of others. You don't do this out of virtue; you do it out of vice."

"Where is the boy?"

"What boy?" Gyatso asked, voice calm and almost amused. Aang didn't know how he did it.

"Roku's successor," Sozin hissed, emotions of anger and fear coloring his voice. "Where is he? Where is The Avatar?"

Gyatso tilted his head up, a calm and peaceful expression on his face. "You will never find him; you have failed, and your conquest will fail as The Avatar will return to stop you. He will finish what Roku failed to."

Aang inhaled sharply when Sozin's fists slowly clenched, fury and terror seeping into his flesh like a sickness. "Then you will join Roku in death, Gyatso."

"You must know, deep down, that you won't succeed," Gyatso wondered, sounding intrigued as he adjusted subtly into a bending stance. "You can kill me, but you will never find him. Even if you do find him, he will defeat you."

Sozin stepped closer, face intense. "Not when he is alone in the world, confused about everything happening. Where is he?" Something on Sozin's face shifted, and he nodded. "If you tell me, I will spare you and bring you to him. I will let you say goodbye; I will give you that gift."

Gyatso smiled, joyful and proud. "He said goodbye. Have you said goodbye to your loved ones? I heard you married again and are expecting your heir."

Sozin snarled and unleashed a torrential fire blast, but Gyatso spun back and swiped his arm directly up and forward, and the sudden air cut through the center of the blast. Gyatso dashed forward through the sudden space and punched his fist forward. A gust of wind exploded forward, and Sozin was heaved backward, falling to the ground.

"Fire Lord!" the men cried and turned to Gyatso with flaming fists. Afiko stood to their side, watching with eyes that burned.

"No," Sozin murmured as he stood to his feet and, somehow, it was heard. "I will kill him myself; he will suffer by my hands alone."

The flames were even stronger when unleashed, and Aang watched as Gyatso and Sozin clashed with prestigious power. But it was apparently obvious that Gyatso was being overwhelmed, for Sozin was stronger. Quickly, Gyatso fell to his knees, spent and burned.

Sozin walked forward, looming over Gyatso, and Aang was frozen in place, watching, gripped by an inevitable knowledge—he knew what was going to happen!

"Your death will be as painful as you are powerful," Sozin decreed after staring at Gyatso for a long time.

Sozin inhaled slowly, and a blanket of unbearable heat emanated from him before he raised his hand, and Gyatso gasped and doubled over, clawing at his chest, features contorting into a mask of agony.

Aang's lips opened in a soundless scream, and he willed himself to save Gyatso, consequences be damned, but he couldn't do it. He didn't want it to happen, but Gyatso did because he recognized its necessity—and it was enough, along with the fact that he knew, too, deep down. The heavens thundered with his feeling of anguish, and all men and women, alive and dead, heard the thunder across the boundaries of the Mortal and Immortal Realm—and they would hear it forever, haunting them. The world screamed, Agni withered, and Tui wept—reflecting his soul. And what kept him frozen in place wasn't the realizations in his mind authored by Gyatso or the horror of what he witnessed; it was his absolute acceptance of it. The Attack had turned from thoughtless to meaningful to him. And he made no move to stop it from happening; he witnessed it all. He did nothing but watch as Sozin slowly killed Gyatso by raising his internal body temperature.

Gyatso collapsed to the ground, rolling awkwardly to his back, and somehow his eyes looked directly up at Aang in the sky, raising his head slightly, lips opening in recognition before a smile of holy gladness overcame him, and he stopped fighting Sozin's power. His eyes shut, and his body stilled, breathless.

Dead.

Aang was frozen in agony as he realized he watched Gyatso die. No one would ever know of what happened to Gyatso; no one would ever know of Gyatso's nobility and wisdom; no one would ever know of his sacrifice. But Gyatso didn't do it to be remembered; he did it because it was the right thing to do.

His eyes welled with tears as he watched Afiko step forward, and a gust of wind exploded from his fingertips, smashing into Gyatso's body and sending it flying into the building; it was his final resting place, where he would never move again. He wouldn't be seen again until the Boy returned to the Southern Temple a century from now to recognize the truth.

But while Afiko stared at Gyatso's body in disgust, Sozin looked up to where Gyatso had died looking, and Aang saw Sozin recognize him, freezing in place; their eyes locked across the distance, and nothing happened for a long time.

Aang had imagined the moment so many times, but it wasn't what he thought. He thought he would rip Sozin apart and bask in drenching the ground with his blood; he thought he would slaughter and desecrate; he thought he would rant and rage, scream at Sozin until his throat started bleeding, hurling abuse born of everything he had thought about for over nine years; he thought he would take Sozin to the Void of Eternity and toss him inside.

But he only felt numb.

However, Sozin's golden eyes filled with power before he unleashed a massive lightning strike up at him. Aang leaned to the side to avoid it, knew he should leave, vanish from Sozin's sight, but he dropped to the ground, landing right before Sozin, Afiko, and the Imperial Firebenders.

Silence.

Sozin stared at him, shocked, trying to comprehend his older appearance. "You," he whispered, body tightening in recognition. "It is you. I found you."

Afiko stared at him with fear and anger and the other Firebenders moved into fighting stances, but Aang only looked at Sozin. "You seek my death in two lifetimes," he said. "It was you who killed me, Sozin, not the volcano."

Sozin faltered in a maddening grief as he looked away. "I had no choice. You damned us. Our race needed your help, but you refused to help. You showed me which side you would choose, and I made a choice to ensure that you could never choose against us again. I died, too, that day, but I will never stop doing what I need to do for Fire."

Aang lashed out, grief and numbness compounding into something deadly. He dashed forward, evaded the sudden fireblasts, and punched his fists forward, and Sozin was smashed back into the wall of the building where Gyatso's body lay; he imprisoned Sozin in the earth up to his chin where only his face was visible, holding him there with powerful pressure—there was no escape, even under the power of the Great Comet.

"It's him," one of the soldiers whispered fearfully, golden eyes bulging in realization. "It's The Avatar."

"Attack!" Sozin roared, trying to escape, breathing flames at the ground. "Get him! Kill him! Somebody, kill him! Destroy him before he destroys us!"

The warriors swarmed forward and punched their fists forward; the fire was intense, and Aang unleashed his own flames that were augmented by Sozin's Comet to counter it, to keep himself from burning—just as his race!

"Impossible!" Afiko screeched, and a gust of wind was blasted toward him, but Aang jumped toward the side. "You were only a boy! You were gone! Who are you?"

He twirled around and gathering the compressed air into his hands, he sent it at Afiko, who crashed into the ground with a shriek. Aang avoided more fire, and when he saw Sozin desperately trying to escape with the aid of one of his warriors, he smashed his foot into the ground; the earth shook, and using their sudden surprise, he slashed his arm forward and then punched his other fist forward. The air exploded out of his other hand, enhanced by plumes of Comet-enhanced fire; all of the Firebenders were swept off of the mountain in a sweeping gust of unavoidable wind and roaring flames.

Only Sozin and Afiko remained.

Aang stared at Afiko. "This isn't going to go like you think it is," he whispered. "You betrayed us, and you're doing to die for that."

"You're a menace," Afiko hissed, disgusted and fearful. "The Avatar has never done anything for the world! I went to you decades ago when you trained with us the first time, begging you to put the High Council in their place, make them see the errors of their ways! But you did nothing! You ignored me! You ignored my warnings! It's you who should die, not me!"

He nodded. "I once believed that, but not anymore." The hatred rose inside him, blackening his face with fury. "You helped lead the soldiers to kill our children, making you no better than the Elders who pitched them off the temple ledges."

Afiko's eyes flashed. "No! I saved those children from what the Elders were going to teach them! They would become menaces just as you are! They deserved death for what they would have become; they failed to see the truth! The Elders would have never let them hear other opinions or perspectives like mine—I tried!"

"You allied with Sozin!"

"Because he understands the truth! He knows that we fell, and he will help us rebuild as we must!"

Aang's fists clenched. "You taught Daoron chi-blocking, didn't you? You shared our race's secrets!"

Afiko was unashamed and furious. "I did. He understood it but his students were pedestrians—but they were not as bad as us! We were worse in every way! I did what I had to do!"

"And I do what I have to do," Aang replied in a hiss, dimly aware of Sozin watching him from behind.

But all he cared about was Afiko; he recognized that he couldn't hurt Sozin—knew he shouldn't—because things were a lot bigger than he thought. But Afiko, the Air Nomad who betrayed their race?

He would avenge himself now.

With a roar of fury, Aang trapped Afiko in the earth before he could escape and placed his thumbs on his forehead and chest. Afiko gasped in terror, struggling extensively, but Aang obliterated whatever defenses Afiko had, smothering his airbending, effortlessly crushing his spirit beneath the weight of his own, feeling no guilt or regret at his invasive methods—the Betrayer deserved it!

Gyatso was always right—Air fell because of Air and no one else! It was the unholy truth that was only reinforced again and again by everything he had seen and heard.

When he pulled away and released Afiko, he felt a grim pleasure as Afiko clearly realized what had happened to him, but he rebelled, consumed by denial, trying to attack him, but Air didn't answer his calls, which grew ever more desperate with each kata he executed.

"No!" Afiko screamed in devastation and rushed at him without airbending, trying to tackle him, but Aang gripped him by his throat and took off into the sky, not being gentle at all as the wind cut not only into his face but Afiko's face. Afiko struggled, trying to smack him, but the force of the winds smashing into him prohibited him from raising his arms or kicking his legs—but his gray eyes were as hate-filled as Aang knew his were.

Aang went higher, fury motivating him, and the brightness of Sozin's Comet alerted him that he was close. He held up a hand to obscure the brightness as he approached, watching Afiko's pale face. Afiko realized what was happening and slammed his eyes shut, preserving his vision, but it didn't matter. He snarled, flew closer, feeling the heat wash over him, firebending never stronger without The Avatar State, and he dunked Afiko's limbs into Sozin's Comet, burning them grotesquely. Afiko shouted and screamed in agony, but Aang continued, holding him in place.

He was avenging himself.

Afiko's screams continued, growing louder and more hysterical, babbling nonsense—anything to make the pain stop—and only when all of Afiko's limbs were blackened stumps, flesh melted to bone, did Aang decided to pull away. Afiko moaned in relief, eyes crusted shut from all the tears he shed, and Aang floated in place for a long time, watching Sozin's Comet continue its journey.

After several more moments, he flew up, higher and higher, summoning storms all around him—and he was in the middle of it. Powerful tornados were everywhere, and black storm clouds converged around him in a tight blanket. Lightning flashed and thunder reverberated everywhere with large pieces of hail sailing through the air with speed faster than any arrow. He was pelted by the devastating hail, but while Afiko was battered and broken from it, while being suffocated slowly as the air spun around them, growing thinner and thinner, the hail shattered when it hit Aang.

It was a storm like a mountain.

Rain blurred his vision, soaking his hair and sliding down his face, and Afiko trembled under his grip, unable to do anything. But when the air began to become too thin to breathe, even for him, he called off the storms and floated in place, catching his breath, resting, stalling, increasing Afiko's dread. He overlooked the world below, small beneath his gaze—only masses of color were distinguishable to his eyes. But Afiko's eyes finally opened, and he jerked and groaned, begging him not to do what they both knew was going to happen.

Aang glared into Afiko's red, broken eyes, saying nothing before he dropped Afiko from the uppermost realm of the skies. He watched him spiral down, spinning around, uncontrolled, knowing what was happening but powerless to stop it—because Aang took his airbending. When Afiko became indistinguishable in his eyes, he flew after him and caught up quickly, flying alongside him as he crashed to earth—it was, truly, a horrific death. But Aang didn't feel guilty, not even when Afiko recognized him as he plummeted with inevitability and started screaming for help and apologizing for everything that he did.

But he knew Afiko didn't mean it; he only wanted to extend his miserable life.

He watched the world expand beneath them, growing in all directions, farther than they could see; the ground was approaching swiftly. Afiko intensified his screams, begging and pleading hysterical for survival, saying whatever he thought Aang wanted to hear, but what Afiko didn't understand is that Aang didn't want to hear any excuse, justification, or apology.

He was avenging himself.

He memorized Afiko's terrified, bloodied face as they returned to the ground. The hysterical stress overcame Afiko, whose eyes bulged out of their sockets, and the white of his eyes quickly filled with blood; the skin stretched painfully across his cheeks and the stumps of his limbs quivered as he tried to save himself, but it was useless.

Afiko plummeted past the Southern Temple, and the terror was on his broken, burned, blistered face, emphasizing his blood-filled eyes. "Aang, please! I'm sorry! Save me! Aang! Aang! Aa- "

Aang only watched as Afiko smashed into the ground with unholy force, body bursting everywhere, blood spraying into the air like a fine mist, bones shattering. There was nothing left of him but small parts of his body cast in every direction from the force of his collision.

He stared at what remained of Afiko for a long time before shooting lightning blast after lightning blast into the ground, ensuring there was nothing left, leaving no memory of him—except that which lived in his mind.

After razing the area of the valley with thick plumes of fire to be safe, Aang flew back up to the temple where he had left Sozin, who had just escaped from his prison with the help of a massive blue dragon—Azar. When they saw him, they rushed at him with deep roars, sounding alike, before Aang defeated both with devastating attacks of all the elements.

He imprisoned both quickly in the earth, and they panted, spent and wounded, and Aang ensured they remained imprisoned as he inhaled slowly with quivering breaths and went inside the building where Gyatso's body rested. He brushed his fingers over Gyatso's necklace as he kneeled in front of Gyatso's body, eyes drawn by the serene expression on Gyatso's burned face.

Tears spilled out of his eyes as he pulled off the necklace and gently placed it back on Gyatso's body—all so he would recognize Gyatso a century from now. He crawled forward and embraced Gyatso's cooling, stiff body, holding it against his chest, cradling it gently, bowing his head against Gyatso's head. "I'm sorry I wasn't the Aang you remember," he whispered, swallowing hard. "I'm sorry I'm not The Avatar you wanted me to be, least of all the Air Nomad I should be. But I swear to be the man you said I am; I swear to be an Aang that is worthy of your love. There will be no one else after you." He gripped Gyatso's lifeless hand and forced their fingers to clasp after several moments, pushing down several of Gyatso's fingers with his own. "I will love you forever, and I'm going to keep you with me. I'll suffer for a long time, but I'll get better. I'll live like you want me to—I swear." He leaned forward and kissed Gyatso's icy forehead. "Goodbye, Gyatso. I love you."

He gently laid Gyatso's body back against the stone wall, memorized him there, before he sniffed and exited the building. He checked to make sure the two scrolls Gyatso had given him—portraits of him with his parents and him with Gyatso—were still secure, and he felt something unclench inside when they were still there. He kept one of his hands within his robes, fingers brushing over the scrolls, reassuring him—centering him.

Aang returned to Sozin, who struggled fiercely to break free, and loomed over him, saying nothing.

"You are older," Sozin murmured, trying to break out of the ground by superheating his fists and body, but it was useless; Aang kept his hold on the ground, refusing to budge. "You should be twelve, not thirty."

Aang stared down at Sozin before sitting down across from his trapped form, near Azar, who whined in fear. "I've imagined this so many times," he whispered.

Sozin's golden eyes—the same as Zuko's—burned brilliantly. "So have I."

"But what's happened and what's happening isn't how either of us imagined it." Aang placed his hand on Azar's snout and forced the dragon into slumber. "What did you think would happen?"

"Victory."

"You have victory," Aang said, looking at the temple—his home. He had imagined countless times what the temple looked like on the day of the Attack, but he never conceived the sheer destruction and atrocity meeting his somber gaze. "But all seasons end, Sozin; your victory will turn to defeat. Is this Vaatu or is this you?"

"Who?" Sozin demanded, face twisting.

Aang stared at him, trying—trying so hard!—to summon the hatred necessary to kill him, no matter the consequences, but he couldn't. "You killed my race; you desecrated my home; you ruined my youth; you raped my innocence; and you murdered Gyatso."

Sozin's eyes narrowed, chin jutting out, face intense. "I tortured Gyatso; I crushed him with my flaming fists; I broke his bones; I seared his flesh; I ripped off his ears; I boiled his eyeballs; I demanded your location. But he refused to relent, more stubborn than any Earthbender."

Though it was a lie—why Sozin was lying, he didn't know—it was still painful. "Not stubborn," he corrected quietly. "More loving."

"Yes, he loved you with the depths and intensity of a volcano," Sozin agreed, surprising him. "But you are not even his son of blood. Yet, still, he sacrificed himself for you; he died preserving your identity." Outraged disgust passed over Sozin's face. "But you refuse to do him the courtesy of defending his honor. You are pathetic!"

Aang snared Sozin's throat and lifted him into the air, pulling him right out of the ground and blocked all of Sozin's attempts to harm him, including choking his throat to prevent flames from coming out of his mouth. "You think I don't want to kill you?" he demanded, disgusted and furious. "You think I don't want to avenge my race? You think I don't want to avenge Gyatso? You think I don't want to avenge myself?"

Sozin's golden eyes were promising. "Then why not?"

"Because I'd never stop avenging," he said and released Sozin, who immediately scrambled away, watching him. "And I want peace. Avenging only brings more avenging, not peace. And your race doesn't deserve my wrath. I spare you to spare Fire."

"How are you this old?" Sozin asked, assessing him; he had decided not to attack—for now. "How do you appear- "

"I don't think you have any idea of the power that lies within me," Aang interrupted, circling Sozin, confining him, pressuring him; he basked in it. Sozin fell to his knees soundlessly from the sheer power Aang emitted—like the weight of the entire world. "I can be whoever I want. But more than having no idea of the power within me, I don't think you have any idea of the strength I have to wield my power. You think the Great Comet is powerful, but in me beats a heart that races with the power of a thousand Great Comets." Aang tilted his head, lips curving into something confident and triumphant as something seethed inside him. "The only reason you still breathe is because of me. I could throw you down from Heaven if I desired it; I could bury you under mountains; I could drown you under the weight of the ocean; and I could smother the fire that burns in your spirit. What power do you hold, Sozin? What power is it that extends your life beyond this moment? On that volcano when you left me to die, it wasn't you that killed me. It was circumstance, something random—a mere chance. It wasn't deliberate and calculated; it didn't have its source in you and your cunning, your power, and your ability. You were just there, and that is all."

Sozin's eyes burned. "It had to be done! It was the only way to pull Fire out of the weakness you did nothing about! Air was going to raise you to destroy us! They succeeded! This was everything I tried to prevent! Now they will enslave us with their levies again!"

Aang shook his head. "We were brothers, Sozin, and you betrayed me. We had our differences, but I respected you—loved you—like no man alive. And in return for my respect and love for you, you left me to die. I would have never taken your life, but you allowed mine to be taken; I would have died for you any day, but you made it so that I died because of you. Did you console my wife with words of grief and regret, pretending to care?"

"I mourned you!" Sozin shouted, face twisting. "We were brothers, but you refused to open your mind- "

"Sometimes we can be so open-minded that we're close-minded," he interrupted. "You were close-minded—still are, and you will be always. You commend your open mind, but now I will give you what you've always wanted—a true open mind. I will give you the truth. You will know what is coming and what will come for you. Your victory today has nothing to do with you just as your victory in leaving me to die on that volcano. It's only the Great Comet—circumstance—that won the day. It was never you. It's me right now who holds the chains of your victory, and I could just as easily as wrap those chains around your neck and rip your head off as finish this sentence." He encircled Sozin, watching as Sozin jerked his head to each side to follow him. "What can you do, Fire Lord? All that you are is a pawn, a tool—nothing more. How easily you are led by the hand like a beaten child. I could kill you, and it would be so easy; it would be a joy to kill you. But I'm not—because you will be haunted and become obsessed, losing yourself in your anguish. This is my curse on you, and it will be eternal; there will be no cleansing yourself of it. It won't take affect now; it won't take affect today or tomorrow. But it will take affect one day, and you will never know when it happens—only that it will happen one day when it happens. Your identity will no longer be yours, and your own memories will turn on you. Your eyes will not see as they once did; your ears will not hear as they once did; and your mouth will not speak as it once did. You will be blind, deaf, and mute, but you will feel the judgments against you, searing your flesh like the flames you're so proud of, and you will know the whispers leveled against you by your servants, wife, sons, and daughters, the screams and shouts that you will never hear, deprived of eyes, ears, and a tongue. 'This is Sozin,' everyone will say, including those who adore you now but won't forever. 'This is Sozin; look at what he is because he thought he knew better.' One day you will awaken and lose your autonomy as you perceive and comprehend it, and you will be nothing, manifesting—realizing—the bleakness of your spirit. The decades henceforth will be good decades for Fire, yes, but they won't be good decades for you. Misery will cling to you like a desperate child, like the children you slaughtered today who ran into the arms of the monks and clung for life; your misery will infect your soul and taint all your memories once joyful, and your loneliness will rob you of your vitality and vigor until you're nothing more than a husk, a figurehead on the Dragon's Throne, a puppet under the control of your heir. You will lose your children, and your tongue will lose its mobility. Every day henceforth you will regret this day; you will search for me pleadingly and desperately, but you will fail. You will grind your knees to dust from the consistency of your prayers for me to return to kill you, to the end the agony that ravishes your heart and splinters your soul. But I won't answer your prayers. Heaven turns away from you, Sozin, and when you die finally, Agni will incinerate your spirit from existence rather than taking you to enjoy the Gardens, for not even he can endure the shame of you as his prophet. It will happen—all of it will; I have ordained it so. All your repentance and tears won't stop it; they will only increase your long demise. Your dread will grow with each passing day, for you know my curse beckons; it will come for you, and it will consume you."

He smiled without mirth and placed a hand on Sozin's shoulder, but Sozin didn't shrug it off; Sozin was frozen in place, listening to his curse—and knowing it would happen but be powerless to stop it.

"Enjoy this day, Sozin," Aang whispered, staring out over the mountain, seeing the future—seeing how his curse realizes itself. "Enjoy your victory—because you won't enjoy it forever. There will come a day when you hate it, cursing what you thought was your grand victory on this day because all this does is ensure the Great War, and no matter your pleas with Earth and Water, they will turn from you in hatred and opportunity; they smell blood, like I smell blood in the air now. You and Fire will be trapped in a coalition against Earth and Water—and me. You have no choice but to fight, to fight for your survival, which you denied my race. All your plans of a brighter world dim with each day that passes until you realize that this day, today, is the source of your failure, not your victory. You thought you were liberating Fire from a trap, but you only pushed Fire into a much greater trap, where understanding with Earth and Water will never be reached in your long lifetime. Your solution today ensured a greater problem that will destroy countless Fire men, watering the continent with their blood—because you have no choice but to fight or be destroyed, like you destroyed us today. You will never win—Fire will never win. Even if Fire's victory seems certain, guaranteed against all possible obstructions, Fire will lose. You will live the rest of your days knowing this and being unable to stop it, for the Earth Kings want your head—they want their vengeance. Water's Chiefs will endorse your slaughter. There is no coming back from this—not for you. Air will come back from this, but you won't. Millions of your race will die. Your men will be slaughtered in lands away from their home, and your women will be raped by soldiers defending their home. You trespass on them, and they trespass on your women. You will never be able to stop it. You will live each day of your life to your death knowing it. You will look back on brighter days enviously and despondently and weep in regret, terror, shame, horror, and despair—because you will realize that this day was never your victory; it was your defeat. It's always been your defeat, Sozin."

He spun in front of Sozin and crouched in front of him, locking their eyes. Sozin was dazed, eyes dim with horror, as he stared back at him.

Aang nodded. "Yes, you understand. Live knowing my curse beckons, and you're no Master of Air to evade it; my curse will find you with the accuracy and precision of lightning. Live with the reminders of this day forever and know your fate is no one's fault but your own; live the rest of your days and experience everything; live knowing that your name is smeared forever, tarnished by your own decisions; live knowing that no fathers or mothers will ever name their sons 'Sozin' in honor of you because your name is barred from memory, and even if a man is named after you, no woman will marry him, too disgusted; live knowing that your strivings are impotent and your spirit frail with misgivings; live knowing that you fail; live knowing that The Avatar is—that I am—beyond you forever, always judging and watching, waiting to return to revoke all your evil; live knowing that Fire's loss is inevitable; live knowing that Fire loses because of your actions on this day and becomes stuck in a Great War that you want nothing to do with but are powerless to prevent; live knowing that your real aims with your conquest here today to liberate Fire only enslaved Fire further, but to a massive war unavoidable and unstoppable; live knowing that all the riches and treasures you recover from each Air Temple will not be used for progress for your race or anything but to continue a war effort that will last beyond your long life and long into your death; live knowing that you unleashed everything that so many will damn you for; live knowing that your life is mine to take or spare whenever at my choosing—always; live knowing that you are perpetually in my debt for your continued existence; live knowing that you're not the powerful Fire Lord but the dependent Fire Lord, reliant on your great enemy for air to breathe; live knowing that loss and despair are all you will know; live knowing that your reckoning will come, beckoned by my curse on you; and live knowing you will be exactly like me—alone."

Sozin shuddered, seeming to shrink in on himself.

Satisfied, Aang turned around and his footsteps quietly sounded against the stone and rock of the mountain. He had one last thing to do, but upon feeling Sozin's heart begin to race with passion, he knew he would be interrupted.

As predicted, Sozin roared suddenly, and the familiar sound of sparks echoed. Whirling around, Aang saw that both of Sozin's arms came together for a monumental lightning strike that he hurled at him.

Aang jumped over the lightning strike, narrowly avoiding it, and struck Sozin in the skull with an unforgiving fist. The lightning crashed into the hill behind him, spraying soil everywhere, but he ignored it, placing a hand on Sozin's groaning face and forcing slumber to consume him.

Sozin went into slumber without fight.

He stared at Sozin's motionless body for a long time, fists clenching and unclenching several times. "May my curse damn you forever," he muttered before turning away toward the temple.

Aang swallowed and forced himself to walk the grounds and see the carnage—see the bodies, both human and animal, everywhere, blood staining the ground and walls; he forced himself to keep going no matter how many times he started to break down and crumble; he forced himself to absorb all the atrocities he saw, imprinting them into himself, carrying them forever; he forced himself to go into every room and catalog the sights that met his dying gaze and settled in his heart. There were no more Imperial Firebenders; they were all dead, killed by himself or Gyatso or the other monks. The only ones alive in the temple were himself, Sozin, and Azar—everyone else was dead. It was verified with each room he entered and left. He didn't bury any of the bodies or give them their rites; he was an observer—an outsider—traveling through, absorbing everything.

He had always blamed himself for not being at the temple when the Attack happened—but he could no longer blame himself, for he was there when it happened, and him being there changed nothing.

He stayed silent as he went to the last room—one he had already visited in the day. The treasure room was still open from when he and Gyatso had left previously. However, there was one noticeable, glaring change. Parts of the wealth sat in many large chests of metal, half-filled; clearly, some of Imperial Firebenders had started loading the treasures into chests before they got the call to help finish the fighting, maybe against Gyatso or Aang himself, and they were killed in the clash, leaving their work unfinished.

Aang dipped his fingers into one of the open chests and squeezed; he pulled several gold coins out and held them in his fist, wondering at their power. The treasures had been certainly a big part of Sozin and Fire's justification for invading Air, and according to the ways of the world, the treasures were worth murdering Air's entire race, civilization, and culture.

"Worthless," he muttered, disgusted as he stared at all the gold, gems, rubies, and jewels.

He dropped the coins back in the chest and turned back. By the time he exited, night had fallen completely, leaving only a blanket of darkness everywhere with light provided only by the sparse fires still burning in the temple. Aang had touched none of them, choosing to let them run their courses—choosing to let it be as accurate as possible.

Sozin's Comet was gone.

Aang inhaled the air, which no longer tasted sweet and nourishing; it tasted like death, facilitated by Air's lack of presence, which was too familiar to him. There was nothing left for him—he had failed simultaneously and reached enlightenment and peace. The Attack haunted him, but it didn't destroy him. He thought if he ever witnessed it or lived it, it would kill him.

But he was still standing—he was still breathing. And he would keep doing so.

"You can rest now," he said finally, voice raspy, speaking to no one present—only those who existed in his mind, lodged in his memories. "You'll be in limbo for a long time, but you'll reach the Gardens. I'll heal Indra of her affliction, and she will take you." He swallowed, and his eyes, which he knew were glassy, roamed everywhere he looked one last time, pausing on each body he saw. "I have always been proud to be yours, but I've never thought you were proud for me to be yours. I don't know if you are or not, but it doesn't matter—I realized that today. I want you to be proud, but even if you're not, I love you—I love you. Nothing will ever be as important as you—no one will ever exceed your worth and value in my life. But Gyatso showed me that loving you means accepting you as you are rather than what I want you to be. I love you forever, but because I love you, I see your flaws and mistakes—the crimes and sins you committed for generations upon generations. I see it now, and I accept it. I wish it wasn't true, but I know why it is. I see how this happened; I understand how this happened—and I let it happen because I understood it. I know some of you hate me for it, and I understand that—I've hated myself for it, too. But no matter what you've done—to others or to me—I'll never not love you. You never loved me enough to tell me the truth, to show me the truth, like Gyatso did today, but I still love you. I still love you even though you murdered so much of each other for generations, including my parents." He stared at the pools of blood everywhere, seeping in all directions—parts of his race lived still, though it was only temporary. "I've married a wonderful woman who is intelligent, wise, and beautiful, and I love her, too. She's of Sozin's blood, and I love her—I'm done being ashamed, guilty, and bitter about that fact. I'm going to make a family and begin to replenish our race, and the half-spawns I make with her will be as beautiful as you are. I'm not going to kill them, throwing them off the temple ledges—I'm going to love them and teach them as Gyatso loved and taught me. None of this means I'm going to forget you. I'm going to remember you for the rest of my life and think about you every day, but I'm going to remember you as you are because I've pulled off the chains I shackled myself with—me, not you; it was always me, I'll always admit it; it was my fault, never yours—to keep me from living. I'm free now. I know you resent me for it, but maybe you can come to understand it in time like I understand why this all happened." He exhaled roughly, letting the perennial silence settle over him for several long moments. "I've died today, too—or at least part of me did. It feels like a big part. But I'm living again—and I'm going to keep doing so, and I'm going to carry you with me as I do it." He wiped away his tears and stretched his lips slightly. "I love you—all of you. Goodbye."

Aang floated off the ground, took one last look at the Southern Temple, and took off in departure—there was one last stop to make before he went home.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The journey back to the South was fast and familiar, though it took him over a day and half, which was even quicker than his previous journey to the Southern Temple from the South—flying was much swifter than running on water. He knew the location better than anyone and found where he needed to go immediately when he reached the area.

Aang dropped; he fell into the icy water, letting the intense, numbing, frigid, bone-chilling cold seep into his soul and body, though he kept the two portraits Gyatso gifted him from getting wet. He felt heavy and didn't move, just letting his body be pulled down by the powerful grip of the ocean. He slowly created an air bubble for himself and swam further down to the bottomless depths, following the thrum of power that hummed through the water. The glow began to reach his eyes, and he eventually reached his destination, bearing the ocean's immense pressure.

The Iceberg was beautiful and mesmerizing to look upon, glowing a brilliant, ethereal bluish white. Inside, the outline of the Boy was visible with his eyes shut and fists pressed together. Appa's form silhouetted behind the Boy in a protective curl, and Aang wondered dimly what Katara and Sokka thought when they first saw the Iceberg.

Floating closer, Aang stretched his bubble to surround the Iceberg; he placed his hands on the ice and felt the power—his power, more immature and less refined—swirling inside. Ignoring it, he focused solely on the Boy trapped inside and knelt down until his knees touched the grainy, fine sand and minerals at the ocean's bottom; he then gently pressed his forehead to the glowing ice.

He stared for a long time, ignoring the brightness that seared his eyes; he tried so hard—so desperately—to bring himself to return to the familiar, comforting hatred he had felt for so long toward the Boy, but he felt no hatred.

Aang swallowed and came to an impulsive decision, but he didn't care; he had started his journey with an impulsive choice and would end it with an impulsive choice—balance. He gathered his power and opened the Iceberg, slipping inside through the water and air, which thrummed with the Boy's power; he closed the Iceberg behind him and sat in front of the Boy and seized control, jarring the Boy, who was stuck in The Avatar State.

The Boy's glowing eyes snapped open, glaring at him with primordial presence, but Aang simply stared back, watching, knowing that, somehow, the Boy would recognize that he was safe. As expected, within several moments, the glow faded, casting them into endless darkness—before Aang ignited the Iceberg with light and energy, providing the needed clarity of vision. His breathing trembled as the Boy collapsed back against Appa, and they both groaned lightly.

Gray eyes fluttered open and stared at him in confusion. Suddenly, the Boy sat up in a blur and grinned at him. "I'm Aang!" the Boy chirped with enthusiasm. "Can you tell me where the penguins are? I'm here to go penguin-sledding!"

Aang stared at the Boy, overwhelmed and amazed to see himself—because the Boy was him!—before he smiled, a brief laugh echoing. "My name's Aang, too."

The Boy's gray eyes lit up. "Really? I've never met someone with the same name as me before! Which temple are you from?"

"The Southern Temple," he answered kindly, wondering painfully how he had ever hated the Boy so passionately—wondering how he could have imagined killing him so many times.

"Do you know Monk Gyatso, too?" the Boy gasped, mouth stretching in awed grin. "He's the greatest Airbender in the world! I love Gyatso! He's my mentor."

Aang couldn't stop his tears from spilling out of his eyes and down his cheeks. "I know him and love him, too," he confirmed, voice wavering. "He's my friend."

The Boy looked at him with worry and looked around, face twisting. "Are you okay?"

He felt choked up, strangled by the force of emotions clawing at him, and he nodded, trying desperately to find his voice. "I will be," Aang managed to whisper. "And you will be, too. It won't seem like it, but you will be."

"This is a really weird dream," the Boy whispered, seemingly to himself, staring around the cramped Iceberg; he looked at Appa behind him. "Appa! Are you in my dream, too?"

Appa groaned in agreement but didn't try to leave, nestling into the ice for rest.

Aang stared at the Boy with wide eyes and pulled him into his arms, overwhelmed, and he hugged him fiercely. "It's not your fault," he hissed, body and voice shaking in rhythm with one another, knowing he only had one chance to warn the Boy—one chance to forgive him. "It's never your fault," he emphasized, pleading for the Boy to understand as he kissed the side of the Boy's bald head. "Do you understand? Do you understand, Aang? You must understand—you have to. Don't blame yourself. This was always going to happen, okay?"

The Boy peered up at him with confused gray eyes. "What are you talking about?"

Aang smiled down at him, tears blurring his vision. "Never forget where you come from; never forget your roots. Promise me."

"I promise," the Boy swore, still looking confused and clearly wanting to be done with the conversation, but Aang wasn't done.

"Live your life," Aang continued in a fierce, shaking whisper. "Remember wisdom and find love; keep Air in your heart always; and search for your peace. Don't lose yourself; be who you are and walk your own path—as you always have."

"Is this a dream?" the Boy asked, looking a little suspicious. "We're in the ocean."

"My wife would say that- "

The Boy's eyes widened. "You have a wife?"

Aang laughed and let the Boy go, watching as the Boy sat across from him. "Yes. My wife would say it's a learning experience."

The Boy squirmed. "She sounds like one of the Elders."

"She is very wise like the Elders, but she's not a nun." He remembered their passionate, vigorous relations and felt peace for the first time about it. His previous thoughts about their relations were lustful and prideful, but never peaceful; now they were. "I'm glad she's not."

"What's she like?"

Aang smiled and wiped his tears away. "She's a Firebender."

"Is she good at firebending?"

"Very good."

The Boy's gray eyes widened. "Is she good like I am at airbending? I'm really good. I'm the youngest master in history!"

Aang shook his head. "She's almost as good. But she'll tell you differently, and you can't let her convince you to agree with that lie."

"Is she beautiful?"

"Very beautiful," he said. "She's a princess."

The Boy gasped. "Really?"

Aang nodded. "She's the most beautiful girl I've ever met. She is reasonable and honest; she has a strength that so few do."

The Boy grinned. "Maybe I can meet her after I wake up from this dream."

He grinned back, mesmerized by the Boy. "I think you will; I think you're going to meet a lot of people when you wake up. You won't think they're good people for a long time, but they are—they are. And they're going to try to help you even though they don't understand, showing that they love you. There's going to be so much for you if only you look for it, if only you seek it. It won't come to you—you have to pursue it and be proactive, okay? Never forget. Do you understand? You're going to have a lot to do when you wake up, but I know you'll succeed in everything you do."

"Okay," the Boy chirped, squirming in place, clearly not understanding, but Aang accepted it—because he loved the Boy. "Why do you have hair? Air Nomads don't have hair. We shave."

"Because I like it—my wife does, too. Maybe you'll like it, too, someday."

The Boy shuddered. "No way. Then how could I ever show off my tattoo of mastery?"

Aang swallowed, seeing and grieving how much he had once loved his tattoo of mastery, had been so proud of it to show it off to everyone. But now he didn't want anyone to see it. "You'll find a way."

"Thanks, Aang!"

He reached over and gently caressed the Boy's cheek. "Now go back to sleep," he urged softly, memorizing the Boy—imprinting the memory in his soul forever because he was finally able to reconnect with that scared, heartbroken, kind, and sweet boy who left the Southern Temple in anguish. "You can go penguin-sledding when you wake up."

The Boy blinked at him, drowsiness overcoming him gradually. "Is Gyatso mad at me?" he asked, words starting to slur. "I ran away."

Aang shuddered with emotion before shaking his head. "No. Never. Gyatso's not mad at you; he loves you and wants what's best for you. He knows that running away was the best thing. I promise."

"I need to tell him sorry," the Boy mumbled before succumbing to slumber.

Aang let go of the Boy and wiped away his tears. "You will," he whispered. "You'll tell him everything one day." He pulled back, slipping out of the Iceberg into the ocean's churning, chilling, crushing depths, and watched as The Avatar State consumed the Boy, reforging the Iceberg. He placed a hand on the glowing ice. "I love you, Aang. May you find the peace that I never did." He stared at the Boy, who glowed with The Avatar State's power, and recalled how he looked with that wonderful grin and light in his eyes, so innocent and kind, so free and pure, so beautiful and wonderful, so sweet and friendly. How far away he felt from the Boy, but simultaneously, he felt closer to him than he had in a lifetime. "I miss you, Aang," he gasped, voice choked as he struggled to breathe, overwhelmed by the crushing guilt and remorse. How had he ever hated the Boy? It was the biggest crime of his life—because it was the source of all his other crimes. "I miss you so much. I'm so sorry I failed you; I'm sorry I didn't work harder to keep you with me; I'm sorry I hated you more than I hated anything or anyone in existence to ever live; I'm sorry that I wanted you to die and never be born. It wasn't your fault—it was never your fault. I'm sorry that I thought it was for so long. When you wake up, the world that you knew will be gone, and a war-ravaged one will have unfairly taken its place. You're going to be alone, and you will be crushed by loneliness and grief; you will be scorned and hunted, your very life at stake. You will be forced to heave the burden of saving the Mortal Realm, and Death will follow you everywhere you go, reminding you of what and whom you lost; unspeakable horrors will haunt you for the rest of your days." Aang quivered and scrunched his face against the pulsing ice, chilling his skin, like his heart; his fingernails clawed against it gently. "But you will find peace again, though it will take a long time; you will discover love in the most unexpected woman and find friends you never wanted but enjoy all the same. What happened isn't your fault, okay? You have to understand it, okay? It's not your fault—it's never your fault, though you'll think it is. Sozin and Vaatu knew you would be born of Air in this lifetime, and that's not your fault. Air's murder isn't your fault; Gyatso's death isn't your fault. You're going to think it is—you're going to believe it is—but it's not. What was you did was best—because you've always done your best. I promise you that you did the best you could, and that's okay. And you're going to keep doing the best you can. You're going to live again and find peace, even though it feels hopeless—and you will succeed." Aang slowly backed away, his fingers brushing against the ice one last time. "Farewell, Avatar Aang. I love you."

He ascended the ocean, staring down at the Iceberg as he did, which shimmered but dimmed until he couldn't see it at all. Within moments, he burst past the surface into the air; he inhaled fresh air for several moments, assessing the ocean's surface to make sure that nothing had changed—that there was no glow visible or that the Iceberg was floating to the surface.

But nothing changed; everything was as it needed to be.

Aang closed his eyes one last time, savoring the feeling of the time in which he was born before he focused his power and teleported to the Immortal Realm; he knew what to do instinctively.

XxXxXxXxXxX

The Immortal Realm was tranquil, and he closed his eyes and finally let the sorrow of what he had allowed to happen affect him. Aang fell to his knees and wept harshly without stop; the tears were endless, and when he finally controlled himself, there was a void in his heart that hadn't been there before. While he may have chosen the right path, it had taken something—a lot—from him to do so.

His journey back to the Tree of Time was bleak, and when he arrived, the overwhelming darkness of Vaatu waited for him.

"You allowed your race's slaughter," Vaatu murmured, intrigued, staring down at him from his prison inside the Tree. "You said you would stop it."

"It wasn't what I thought it was," he whispered.

"Yet, I sense your mastered chakras, which were not mastered previously."

Aang ignored him, hopped into the Tree's trunk, and sat inside the primordial darkness but closed his eyes; to return to his time, all that he had to do was enter access the Tree's power again.

Before he did, Vaatu spoke again: "We will meet again, Avatar. In another time, in another place, we will finish this."

"Yes, we will—I anticipate it," Aang said and accessed the Tree's power.

He felt the rush of power wash over him, ultimate and endless, before it stopped. When he opened his eyes, he felt the same smooth oak under his hands; whirls of lines arched beautifully through the wood. But the overwhelming darkness wasn't present, alerting him that he succeeded.

He sat in the Tree's core for a long time; he recalled his insistence on using the Tree over and over again until he succeeded in saving his race, but he wasn't going to. He had succeeded, certainly, but not in saving his race; he looked deeper.

He knew there would likely be days in the future when he regretted looking deeper rather than being fixated on the surface.

"Did I change anything?" Aang asked finally, sighing heavily; he stared at the Tree's inner bark. "You know what happened—you saw everything. I killed many people and changed events; many people saw my face. I made a lot of changes."

"Everything is as it should be," the Tree assured soothingly with an impossible serenity. "Nothing changed."

Aang laughed, and he heard the hysteria in it. "I thought I was winning—that I was playing one over on you—but I wasn't, was I?"

"You won over your journey, Aang. You learned the Truth; you achieved understanding."

"You knew this would always be the result," he breathed, hollow.

"This had to happen."

Aang closed his eyes and swallowed, realizing the truth. "I couldn't even make a difference, could I? Everything was always going to turn out this way, in one way or another. Even everyone I killed was going to die either that day or another day right thereafter. Even Afiko was just going to be killed by Sozin for failing him in securing The Avatar. It was all going to happen somehow." He remembered Gyatso's wisdom and laughed slightly, though it was one of exhaustion, not amusement. "I could make the form different, but the nature was always going to be the same. I was the rock in Time's stream, which parted it, obstructed it for the briefest, infinitesimal moment, but the stream still reconnected behind me, no matter what I could do. The direction was never stopped nor hindered. It was always flowing where it needed to—where its momentum carried it, where it was destined to go. Because I can't actually change the stream's direction, only try to fight it, but my fighting it was pointless and futile, accomplishing nothing. And I can't go outside the stream to change it or destroy it because I actively exist inside the stream and always have; I'm part of the stream, unable to exist or be outside the stream, even for the tiniest, briefest moment."

"I am proud of you, Aang."

"And even if I saved my race under Sozin's Comet, they would still die," Aang said, squeezing his eyes shut. "They were always going to die."

"They were already on their path."

"It wouldn't be then, but it would be later. They would still be wiped out."

"Nothing else was possible."

He laughed in horror. "And knowing what I know now of my race, the High Council would retaliate against Fire's attack, culminating in Sozin's murder." He nodded, certain of his theory, knowing how easy it would be for an Airbender to assassinate the Fire Lord if he was wise. "Which means Fire would hate us even more," he continued, seeing how it would have all played out otherwise; it was horrifying. "And Earth, though holding no love for Fire, would see Sozin's assassination for what it was—the start of a new precedent. To act so directly and violently against another race's ruler opens the door to new warfare, and the Kings of Earth would see themselves as next on our list—the next possible assassination victims because they all believed that we wanted a world of only Air, and we did nothing to contradict that notion with our actions and condescending attitudes. Earth would ally with Fire, and Water would ally with them, too, because Water hated us more than even Fire did. It was inevitable. A coalition of Fire, Earth, and Water would have teamed up and annihilated Air, wiping us from the face of the world." He shuddered as he visualized it, feeling hollow. "The armies of the world would have descended on us, and no matter our greatness, no matter how much better and stronger we were, no matter how many we took with us into Death, we would be destroyed. Because our reputation was already so poor, we couldn't recover; there was no possibility of diplomacy. And I couldn't stop it as a child. It wouldn't be me dealing with it. The moment I stopped the Attack and destroyed Fire's armies, I would cease to exist—or would have only a few hours to put my affairs in order and prepare my race for what was coming before I faded away. I would return to twelve-years-old with no memories or experience, lacking my present attitude and understanding, and it would have been a slaughter on both sides. I would go into The Avatar State and destroy those who attacked, but I couldn't be everywhere at once, and there would come a time when I'm not where I should be, and my race would die—like they were always going to. Slowly, over months or years, my race would be picked off, one by one, because our numbers were already low, and my attention couldn't be everywhere. I could keep Air's murder from happening for a while, but it was a doomed endeavor. And at twelve-years-old, I would have lacked the rage to simply slaughter Water, Earth, and Fire from the face of the world instead to save my race. I wouldn't have understood what was happening; I would have been trapped in my paralyzing confusion and heartbreak while men around me made all the decisions and ruled the world."

"There is always cause and always effect."

Silence.

"Why did you let me go back?" he choked out finally, overwhelmed, crumbling to his knees and scrubbing his face; he stared at the Tree's inner bark, hopeless. "Why did you let me go? I see the truth—I understand it—but it cost me part of myself. Nothing will ever be the same again. It's the hardest thing I've ever done—by far."

"Yet you still stand."

Aang exhaled roughly and stood to his feet, staring at his memories projected everywhere across the bark, including memories he had made in his journey. "Thank you, Tree of Time," he whispered and bowed and exited the Tree, climbing down its massive roots before he touched the ground. The unbearable burden still affected him but slowly, it began to dissipate. Before his journey, he would have hated seeing Azula and his friends again, but he found that he wanted nothing more—he wanted to rest, finally.

Aang closed his eyes and focused on returning to the Mortal Realm—to see Azula and his friends.

He was going home.

XxXxXxXxXxX

I hope that you all enjoyed it. Please leave a review and tell me what you think. I'd really appreciate it!

**Aang makes it back to the Southern Air Temple on the day of Sozin's Comet! I really hope that the meeting between the Elders was realistic. I tried to highlight the stark contrasts between Gyatso and the others. Honestly, it seemed kind of Canon to me that the Air Nomads were hypocritical. They preached freedom, but they regulated their way of life very strictly; they had rules for everything. That is NOT freedom, and while I may be misinterpreting things, I don't think that I am.

Also, who else was confused when Elder Pasang was going to send Aang to the Eastern Air Temple? It never made sense to me that Aang still had more training to do with airbending; he was the youngest master in history. (The only thing that makes sense is that he still needs to learn about the deep knowledge of his culture, that's it.) You don't become a Master unless you have perfected the forms. He shouldn't need any more training but then I realized who was most likely at the Eastern Air Temple: Guru Pathik! The Air Nomads had refused to message the other nations of Sozin's lust for conquest and that is terrible, but they couldn't have just been sitting there like sitting ducks, right? They must have had a plan, especially since the Avatar was borne of them, regardless of their pacifistic ideals, so I thought that they would want Aang to master the Avatar State early to stop Sozin's war. Otherwise, if they had been serious about Aang starting his Avatar training early, they would have sent him to one of the Water Tribes to master waterbending.

Aang meets with Gyatso and they get a reunion! I wanted Aang to have closure with his mentor and the Air Nomads. Although he had doomed his younger self to a century's sleep, he still hadn't fully accepted what had happened to the Air Nomads, how he was all alone. He had thought that he could still have both lives, the one of the past and future, but he couldn't; it was unrealistic. One had to be annihilated and Aang, ultimately, chose the past. Gyatso was able to explain to him and set his mind straight about the Air Nomads. They had become stagnant in their beliefs and as a result, they had distanced themselves from the true teachings and ideology of airbending. They had become callous and cold; they had fallen, indeed, from what they once were. Aang and Gyatso get to say goodbye to each other, which I thought would be very crucial for Aang in his journey of acceptance. A lot of people, when their family members die, don't get that closure, that message of goodbye that they so desperately needed. Aang had to wait over nine years and then travel over a century to the past, but eventually, he does get that precious gift.

I thought it was compelling for Aang to know all of Air's wisdom but never understand it because he was a child; I thought it was intriguing for him to finally live Air's wisdom and come to grasp it under Gyatso's final lessons to him because he's an adult. Let's be real, Aang didn't understand shit during the Great War, understandably so. He was a kid, and a kid doesn't know squat. But then he became a teenager, and since all teenagers are unbearably stupid, especially about complexity, and Air's murder is by far the most complex subject/topic in the world of Avatar, he didn't see or understand anything. But now that he's a man—an adult—he's finally capable of absorbing Air's priceless, ancient wisdom and understand how and why Air's murder happened. Ironically, Aang always thought he was a failure because he didn't think he was mimicking his race like he should, but he learns, horrifyingly, that he actually was mimicking his race perfectly—because his race wasn't how he thought they were. They were assholes, and he was mimicking them perfectly for a long time.

The big thing that Aang needed to understand was that the Attack happened for a reason—for many reasons. Air wasn't actually innocent; they were players in a political game that ended in their destruction—because their choices were asinine, brimming with delusion and cruelty. Air and Fire's distrust and animosity was ancient by the time Aang was born, and it reached its apex during the Attack. But what he also never understood was that Earth and Water hated Air, too. Everyone in the world practically hated Air—because of Air's own choices, decisions, and treatments of others. It wasn't Sozin beguiling the world into hating Air; it was Air being such assholes that no one could stand them. It's unfortunate, but it makes way more sense than the bullshit martyrs they are portrayed as. They were victims, absolutely, but they were victims of themselves, primarily, victims of their choices and decisions.

The High Council failed Air, for it had long since been a council of fools, and only the most foolish amongst Air were elevated to those 'prestigious' positions. They were rigid and uncompromising; they escorted Air off the cliffs, and most crucially, no one in Air tried to challenge them—or when someone tried, like Gyatso and Aang's parents, it was too late. Air's pacifism literally fucking killed them. There comes a point when fighting is always necessary, but I find it very compelling that Air got their wires crossed so severely that they couldn't fight at all, not even intellectually or spiritually. They were trapped in a downward spiral in which the only conclusion possible was destruction—followed by rebirth.

Sozin had to mobilize his army to attack all the Air Temples simultaneously, which doesn't happen in a vacuum. Rumors and knowledge (gossip) would be abound, singing in the air. The Attack shouldn't be a surprise to anyone who has his head out of his ass and is aware and steady, including Water and Earth. Earth, specifically, was much closer to Fire geographically, making trade much easier. Rumors of Sozin's plans would reach Earth's ears. Most people would probably dismiss the rumors as simply rumors, but there would always be a handful of people who would take it seriously and work to prevent it from happening, trying to warn Air. Thus, the Attack could have never worked—unless Earth (including those conscientious, wise people who would take the rumors as warnings) hated Air, too, which means that Water hated Air, too. There was evidence for it already in Canon, for it's the only way something that monumental could ever happen.

Also, it makes much more sense rationally for Fire to actually NOT be the aggressors of the Great War—only the aggressors against Air, who had their own aggression, for aggression always sparks aggression, always having its roots in aggression. If Fire had twelve years to plan for the Great War, like is commonly assumed, they should have conquered Earth relatively quickly—not taking 100 years to do it. It makes no sense in terms of war and politics. But what does make sense is that Fire planned Air's murder only for twelve years, having no conception of Earth being outraged by Air's murder because many of Earth hated Air, too, and simply focused on Air, only amassing resources and manpower for an invasion in a single day, not a full, outright, massive war. But what Sozin didn't count on were the Earth Kings, who wanted war and refused any attempts of peace offers Sozin could do. Thus, once Earth declares war, inevitably drawing the South to them, Sozin and Fire have to scramble to fight a war they were NEVER prepared for, which is the reason for the 100-year-long war and why it lasts so fucking long. Honestly, it should have never lasted so long—it's absurd, unless there is an ACTUAL reason for it. Fire didn't fight just to conquer; they fought to defend their very existence because Earth—and later the South—wanted to wipe them out. Earth didn't fight just to avenge Air's murder; they fought for vengeance for themselves and to possibly colonize Fire's islands since Earth had such a massive population. The South didn't fight at all just to help Earth against Fire; they fought for social and political advancement, recognizing that there was a lot to gain if they won. That's all war is—there are always scheming reasons that get lost in the chaos and madness, and sometimes intentionally so by leaders who don't have the peoples' best interests in mind, reframing the war into something other than what it's actually about all for the goal of deception and support, because if people knew the real reason, they would never support it. It makes so much more sense that Fire was forced into the Great War, forced to fight it, because that's the only way that the Great War could actually last for so long. That is the only reason why Fire fought so hard and never gave up, refusing to—because they fought for their very existence, knowing that Earth would wipe them out if they surrendered. There's a reason Fire was only ever willing to really surrender after The Avatar returned—because The Avatar would never let Earth wipe Fire out, which is exactly what happens and leads to the continuation of the war after Aang keeps denying Kuei what he—and what Earth—want. Fire was always at the disadvantage compared to Earth, but they kept making strides against Earth—why? It must be that Earth wasn't unified and united, which Bumi points out in the story. The Earth Kings were bickering cunts too selfish and stupid to ever solve the mess they got Earth into, which culminated in Bumi taking matters into his own hands to try to change the tide. It also shows that not all of Earth agreed with the Great War; there was dissent, at least at the beginning, before that dissent faded across the generations as the childish lie of "Fire's a bunch of savage murderers and conquerors" took hold and indoctrinated everyone, unifying Earth later on—which is the opposite of what happened to Fire, ironically enough. Fire started out strong with full support from everyone because they had a very good and real reason to fight until the generations changed, and the war was reframed, which led to dissent and fractures happening in Fire's leadership and elites. There was no more unity, which weakened Fire's war effort, which culminated in Earth holding on and staving off Fire's efforts for a long time once they were unified themselves. Fire didn't actually want the Great War, at least at the beginning, which is why Fire kicked ass during the beginning of the Great War, probably for the first half of the Great War—because they were motivated with a real reason to fight. Earth is who wanted it at the beginning, but Earth wanted it for the wrong reasons, which is why they got their asses kicked for so long—until the lie kicked in as it became a real holy war. Really, the Great War was just between Earth and Fire, and both Earth and Fire had conflicting stages of it being a holy war for them, which gave each side the advantage—until the motivations changed. Remember, Azulon wanted the Great War for a long time as part of the new generations, but he inevitably tired of it and did everything in his reasonable power to stop it, before Ozai came to power and wanted the Great War—and always would. The Great War changed in its framing across generations because generations themselves are different from each other. Thus, you can never trust what Ozai says about the Great War because he has no conception of what the Great War is about at its roots; you can never trust what Kuei or even Bumi says, too, because Bumi was born of the wrong generation and had no idea what the actual war was about. It was Earth, specifically, the Earth Kings, taking advantage of Air's murder to make a Great War—a holy war to fight against Fire, who were all "savage murderers and conquerors" but failed to make it an actual holy war because their motivations were stupid, which drew the entire conflict out to the extreme.

I wanted to explain all the hatred for Air, which is the result of Air being assholes. Air enslaved Fire financially for a crime centuries ago; Air murdered their own children, which made Water hate them forever; and Air stole food from Earth and kidnapped children to try to teach them the Air Nomad way. It all makes too much sense. Because Sozin would have to get the support of Fire to do what he did; he would need approval. There must already be a source. There must be something with Air that already evoked a distrust and hatred for Air, including the hatred of the other races for Air. It ties into the theme of the Fall. Sozin was great and fell; Roku was The Avatar and fell; Aang is a great Avatar and fell (and works to get himself out of that). Thus, Air was once good and fell. It makes too much sense. The fact that Sozin actually managed to pull it off against all the complex odds in dealing with the political situation with Earth and Water, to me, is most damning of Water and Earth's hatred for Air at that point. But as the Great War keeps going, a new legend of Air is spread; they are martyrs for Sozin's evil, nothing more—obscuring the true reality of what happened and what had to happen to facilitate such a thing happening. And when Aang wakes up out of the Iceberg, he would never hear anything different—because everyone alive has never heard anything but the lie used.

I'm not a fan in the slightest of an idyllic Air who was so peaceful and perfect that they could do no wrong and did no wrong, these paragons of virtue and wisdom. It's much more compelling and makes more sense that they were once those things—virtuous and wise—before they fell and coasted on the reputations of their esteemed ancestors. It makes SO MUCH MORE sense. When you think about it, SO MUCH went wrong in the world of Avatar in a single generation, and it's treated like an uncaused thing, but there were many causes to everything happened—there had to be. There were roots for each thing that went wrong, including Air's demise and fall.

Where is the complexity? Where is the nuance? Where are the gray areas, like Air's own gray eyes? Air was composed of heroes and villains like all the races in Avatar are. And by the end of it, Air possessed no heroes. All races/nations/cultures need heroes to survive, but Air had no heroes, no one willing to stand up to the villains, who evoke only destruction, catastrophe, and mayhem. Gyatso was the closest, but not even he could be heroic enough to reverse all the damage done by Air's villains, which were very numerous and powerful—because Air's entire social structure, at the top, was composed of villains.

The fact that Air was wiped out completely and utterly, I think, really shows the depths of their fall. They are called Air Nomads, but they were never shown being nomadic; they were always shown at the Air Temples, confining themselves there, never leaving. It's much more compelling and sensible that they severed their roots—their nomadic roots based on freedom and friendship and love—and stayed at the Air Temples, losing themselves in their mental rigidity more and more with each passing generation.

I think Aang going back in time is realistic; he can see with his own eyes how different the world was back then from what he thought that it had been. Let's be honest, Aang remembers the era from when he was born through a child's naivety and innocence. The world wasn't that way, it couldn't be. That's not how human nature works and there are always great problems. Add in Vaatu's darkness beginning to sway Sozin and probably others, that time period is brimming with problems and tension. When war is on the horizon, things aren't good beforehand. It's not as how he had thought, and he is finally seeing; he realizes that, just maybe, the Great War should have happened as the Tree of Time dictated.

Because he realized slowly with Gyatso's help that the Air Nomads are not how he remembers them; there is a lot that he never knew about his race. I've never been a fan of how Canon has defined the Air Nomads as a utopia that was a perfect race; that's asinine. It's completely unrealistic because every nation has darkness and blots in their legacies that they can't escape from. (For real-life history, look at the United States of America. That country is the greatest known country to ever exist, but it has still had major problems that will always haunt them.) The Air Nomads are said to never give birth to non-benders, only Airbenders. There must be a realistic reason for that, so I made one; it makes a lot more sense for the Elders of the Temples to discard non-bending children and keep it a secret than for the Air Nomads to be this perfect airbending race who has a 100% airbending-baby rate. Yes, I know Canon's explanation for the reason why the Air Nomads are all Airbenders is that of their spirituality, but I think that's nonsense based on how bending is shown to be work and be inherited. There is a genetic component; it lingers in the blood, passing on to the next generation through procreation.

I added the part about the younger Aang in the storm caused by the older Aang because I thought that it was dreadfully, sorrowfully beautiful for Aang to put his younger self in the Iceberg. It would certainly hurt but in the long run, he can finally achieve true peace by letting go of his greatest nightmare. The Iceberg is where everything began for him, where his world turned upside down; he was trapped in it for a century while the rest of the world suffered. Aang is coming full circle, now, and I think that's symbolic. By allowing, by physically putting his younger self into the Iceberg and keeping him there, Aang has finally accepted that the way that things happened to him, getting stuck in the Iceberg while the rest of the world suffered, was probably the best thing that could have happened to him; it was the best possible outcome to a nightmarish situation.

What Gyatso knew about Aang is that the root of Aang's extensive, monumental struggles to accept what happened was his hatred for himself. Aang's hatred was immense, but the hatred's nature was always directed inward—at himself. Aang hated no one like he hated himself. He hated the Boy and The Avatar for letting everything happen. If he had actually hated anyone else, directing his hatred outward, he would have destroyed the world. Ba Sing Se is what happened when he unleashed his hatred for just a few minutes. If he truly unleashed it with everything he's capable of at his most hateful, he would certainly have destroyed the world. But his hatred was always for himself, deep down, most of all. If he had ever blamed anyone more than he blamed himself, there wouldn't be a world, which Gyatso understood. It's actually what makes Aang redeemable because Aang know he messed up; he takes accountability. Ironically, he takes way too much accountability and responsibility for what happened. Instead of placing it on his race as he should, specifically on the High Council, he placed it on himself, distinguishing himself from the Boy whom he despised, wanting to be nothing like the Boy, who he thinks let everything happen. Gyatso understands all of it because he knows Aang; he raised the Boy, and as he points out to Aang, Aang is still the Boy, deep down. He's still that heart-broken, horrified boy who ran away and awakened in a world to find Air murdered. To ever accept what happened and make headway, Aang needed to forgive himself, which was the hardest part. Ironically, Air always preached forgiveness, but like his race with their inability to forgive Fire for Houka's crime, Aang couldn't forgive, least of all himself. It ties back to the point about having Aang finally learn his race's wisdom and how to achieve it—how to live it.

Aang learns about his parents and who they were from Gyatso! I thought it would be interesting if Gyatso was friends with Aang's father and mother, which ties back to the "some friendships are so strong they can even transcend lifetimes" idea. Gyatso was friends with Roku and became the mentor of his successor; Gyatso was friends with Tenzin and Jinora (yes, I thought those names fit, but any resemblance to the LoK characters besides the names are coincidence) and became the mentor to their son. But Gyatso was friends with Aang's parents because they were like him, similar in perception and understanding, disgusted with Air's direction. Rebellion is in Aang's nature because of being raised by Gyatso and the blood in his veins. But unlike everyone else in Air, Aang's parents and Gyatso were fighters, willing to kill if they needed to. Aang's parents fought to raise him, loving him, and trusting no one but themselves to oversee raising him (but they would be grateful that Gyatso, their friend, is who raised Aang). They rebelled against the tyranny of the High Council and ran, able to live with Aang for two years with Gyatso's help because Gyatso misdirected the High Council and led them on a wild goose chase. But all good things, and the High Council figured out what happened. They tracked down Aang's parents and killed them, and despite Gyatso trying to stop it, entering the fight himself, Tenzin and Jinora were still killed, and the High Council took Aang. The only reason Gyatso was able to raise Aang was due to Air's complete inability to raise The Avatar because they were so far gone and unprepared, and they were terrified that The Avatar would kill them in his powerful grief in missing his parents. But Aang is glad to know his parents and know of them, and Gyatso gives Aang two scrolls containing two portraits as a final gift—one of Aang as a baby with his parents and the other with Aang and Gyatso soon after Aang's parents were killed. Aang is able to let go and have peace and embrace freedom.

Sozin is who kills Gyatso and I really struggled to do that scene. When we find Gyatso's skeleton in the show, there are dozens and dozens of Fire Nation soldiers' corpses and skulls. That tells you immediately that Gyatso fought them and was an absolute badass by killing them all. While we don't know why he went against his pacifistic ideals in Canon, in this story, it was to protect Aang from being discovered as he tried to get him back to his own time. Now, as for Gyatso's death, I struggled with it, too. From his skeleton, there weren't any blunt force trauma or blackened bones. He also still had most of his Air Nomad garbs, and the beaded necklace was still intact. So, there couldn't have been a fireblast or lightning strike because those would have blackened his bones, destroyed parts of the body, and destroyed the necklace and clothes. (I'm aware that since it was a kid's show, they wouldn't have shown stuff like that anyway, but I want things to line up.) Since Gyatso was such a badass, Sozin is the only one who can kill him, and I created the raising inner body temperature; that is very deadly! A Firebender as powerful as Sozin, especially under the power of Sozin's Comet, could effortlessly do that; it would kill someone from the inside out and be undetectable by looking at a skeleton—so it lines up with Canon!

Afiko is actually a real character in Avatar: The Last Airbender. He was known as the Betrayer because he gave the Fire Nation, and thus, Sozin the location of the Air Temples. He was never mentioned or given screen time in the tv show, but he was in the ATLA card game and that is where his story was created. I always liked the idea of an Airbender betraying the Air Nomads because Sozin and the Fire Nation had no idea where the Air Temples were, nonetheless how to get to them. For all they knew, the Air Nomads might have lived on small islands. In Canon, the Airbenders were all wiped out in a single day, the day of Sozin's Comet. Very few escaped and those who did were quickly found and killed. That type of operation takes vigorous, meticulous planning and the knowledge of the location and any weak points. Sozin could have NEVER known any of that unless he received the intel from a treacherous Airbender, so I included Afiko; he is—rightly so—disillusioned with the High Council of Elders and never liked Aang because he hated The Avatar. Afiko divulges that he went to Roku in his lifetime to try to get Air to change, but Roku ignored him, which makes perfect sense with the fact that Roku was never decisive in his life and didn't handle things as he should have. Thus, Afiko hates The Avatar and knows that Aang is The Avatar, which makes him hate Aang.

Aang kills Afiko, and while I'm aware that might seem out of character, Aang has killed before in Canon, remember? Look at the Northern Air Temple, the Northern Water Tribe, and General Fong's military base. Aang just experienced the most traumatic moment of his life and Afiko certainly deserves such a death; it was realistic, to me. While Aang couldn't kill Sozin, he could kill Afiko because Afiko was a nobody in history; time wouldn't change because Afiko's death and plus, Aang was feeling vengeful, and rightly so.

Aang and Sozin talk! I really wanted to, at the very least, have them meet eyes or something, but then the scene grew a head of its own.

Aang realizes that anything he did couldn't actually prevent anything from happening as it was meant to, which the Tree of Time confirms at the end. He can't prevent nature, but he could change the form, but the nature was always there, meaning that Air was always going to be murdered and that the other races would hate Air; it meant that there was always going to be a Great War; it meant that everyone who died was always going to die, either by Aang's hands or in another way. Nothing he could do would actually prevent anything; it may delay things a little bit and change it, but prevention was impossible—because the nature could never be changed. The perfect image, which Aang realizes, is that Time flows like a river in a constant, immutable, unavoidable, unstoppable stream. Aang tried desperately to fight, doing everything in his power, but he couldn't actually stop the stream's flow; he could only stand against it like a rock jutting out of the stream, but that did nothing to the stream except delay it infinitesimally and change its path infinitesimally because the stream would always reconnect immediately once it passed Aang. There was no preventing it; there was no stopping it—because he exists inside the stream, not outside of it. Things were much more complicated than he thought because everything is connected, another priceless bit of Air's wisdom that he finally began to learn—actively learn and understand rather than recite.

It's as Aang says: "I couldn't even make a difference, could I? Everything was always going to turn out this way, in one way or another. Even everyone I killed was going to die either that day or another day right thereafter. Even Afiko was just going to be killed by Sozin for failing him in securing The Avatar. It was all going to happen somehow. … I could make the form different, but the nature was always going to be the same. I was the rock in Time's stream, which parted it, obstructed it for the briefest, infinitesimal moment, but the stream still reconnected behind me, no matter what I could do. The direction was never stopped nor hindered. It was always flowing where it needed to—where its momentum carried it, where it was destined to go. Because I can't actually change the stream's direction, only try to fight it, but my fighting it was pointless and futile, accomplishing nothing. And I can't go outside the stream to change it or destroy it because I actively exist inside the stream and always have; I'm part of the stream, unable to exist or be outside the stream, even for the tiniest, briefest moment."

Well, I think that is everything. I hope that you all enjoyed it, and I would really appreciate it if you left a review to tell me what you thought about it.

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