Some time had passed since Kima overheard Sivak's argument with a tribesman. The conversation replayed in her head often, and each time it did, she felt a pit in her stomach. His words—about needing to stay in line or face dire consequences from the Air Empire—were chilling. She'd brought it up to Kota, her best friend and, in her opinion, one of the bravest men in the entire tribe, to hear his thoughts.
"It just feels so wrong. Why do we let them have so much power over us?" she asked aloud when the two were alone. Kota was sitting on a snowy embankment, his expression indecipherable as he sifted snow through his fingers.
"I understand what you mean. It's frustrating that we just let them do whatever they want. I feel like if we all came together, we could probably scare them off for a little while." Kota was a trained warrior, a skilled huntsman, and a tactical thinker. He shared Kima's frustrations but knew that the airbenders were extremely lethal when provoked.
Kima sighed and sat beside him. "I'm scared, you know. That our tribe's going to split because of this." There were two distinct groups in the tribe now: one that accepted the current conditions and another that pushed for firmer boundaries and resistance against the Empire. More arguments erupted each day, with people pressuring the chief to do more to assert their independence while others were pleading for continued cooperation to avoid conflict.
Kota nodded, his gaze fixed on his boots. "Honestly, I see that happening too. I don't want it to, but people are frustrated. And I get that." He glanced at her, offering a supportive smile. "But if it does come to that, I'll stay wherever you are."
Kima smiled appreciatively. "What happened to you moving north? Made up your mind yet?"
He shrugged, looking out at the glacial landscape. "Maybe. I don't necessarily agree with everything they do, but at least they're all on the same page. Unlike us."
They sat in silence, both contemplating their futures. The idea of the Southern Tribe splitting broke Kima's heart. No matter which side she chose, she'd feel like she was losing family.
Kota spoke again, sighing as he brushed aside some snow. "I don't think Sivak's right, but I understand why he thinks he is. For now, I think it's smart to play along. There has to be a crack somewhere, and it'll show itself eventually."
When that point would come, only the spirits knew. For now, things were deceptively calm. The tribe was alive with activity: women preparing food, children engaged in a lively game of "army," and men chatting or preparing for a hunt. Despite its small size of under three hundred people, the Southern Tribe bustled with life. Their homes—igloos and tents—varied in size, with the chieftain's tent being the largest to accommodate meetings. A snow-and-ice watchtower stood vigilant over the settlement.
Kima sat outside with her mother, helping prepare squid for lunch. Her younger brother Arrluk was nearby, building a "fort" with other boys to defend against snowball "attacks." Suna, her mother, was engaging her in conversation.
"So, you and Kota have been spending more time together lately," Suna remarked, a knowing smile on her face. Her greying hair framed deep blue eyes that sparkled with mischief. "He seems to like you a lot. And you've been friends for so long."
Kima tried to look annoyed but couldn't help smiling. "We're just friends. Besides, he's thinking of moving north."
Suna hummed thoughtfully, dropping a piece of squid into the pot. "Well, that'd be unfortunate. I really think he likes you." She glanced around to ensure no one was listening before adding conspiratorially, "And he's one of the cuter ones here."
"Mom!" Kima swatted at her, laughing. Suna giggled like a young girl.
"I'm teasing. I just want you to be happy."
"I am happy," Kima said, though she knew she could be happier. Still, she tuned out the noise around her and focused on her task.
That peace shattered with a shout. "Chief! A sky bison's approaching!"
Kima's head snapped up. The watchman descended the tower, telescope in hand. Sivak, standing near his tent with two leaders, turned toward the commotion. Shielding his eyes against the sun, he muttered, "That's odd," before heading toward the landing site.
The sky bison touched down with a low growl. The beast was massive, its sheer size intimidating even from a distance. Atop its back were two figures: one in the structured, imposing uniform of a Wind Sentinel, and the other in the more refined, ceremonial garb of a Wind Envoy. The Envoy's robes retained the saffron and orange hues of traditional Air Nomad attire but were tailored and adorned with intricate patterns, denoting his diplomatic role. His demeanor was calm but commanding, a stark contrast to the stoic, battle-ready posture of the Sentinel beside him.
The Wind Envoy dismounted first, his movements graceful and deliberate. "Chief Sivak," he called out, his voice carrying an unsettling authority despite its measured tone. Sivak stepped forward, his face carefully neutral. "Master Pasang. I wasn't expecting a visit from you." The airbender gave a gentle smile, but his eyes remained as cold as the snow under his feet. "Yes, and I do apologize for this sudden intrusion, but there is a matter of great significance that I needed to discuss with you in person." He then turned to glance at the villagers before gesturing to the man beside him. "This is Banzan, the leader of the southern division of the Wind Sentinels. I do hope his presence doesn't disturb any of you." The chieftain acknowledged him with a curt nod, receiving one in return. "It is no trouble. Should we go to my tent to discuss?"
Pasang nodded, his gaze sweeping over the gathered villagers with an unsettling mix of curiosity and calculation. "That would be most suitable, Chief. Please, lead the way."
The villagers watched in uneasy silence, their work momentarily forgotten as they studied the newcomers. The younger children who had been throwing snowballs moments before, scampered over to where their mothers stood and hid behind them. Some of the men grimaced, their eyes never leaving the figures of the airbenders. The Sentinel, Banzan, remained near the bison, his sharp eyes scanning the settlement like a predator sizing up its prey. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of a staff strapped to his back - a staff Kima knew could just as easily become a weapon.
She had never actually seen a Wind Sentinel before, but she's heard a lot about them. They were meant to be the enforcers of the Empire, serving as something like the militant faction of it. They were fearsome airbenders, trained specifically to utilize harmful tactics to dissuade or crush any form of rebellion. Their clothing retained the signature colors of saffron, orange, and white but was far more structured and imposing, emphasizing their roles as enforcers of the Air Empire's will.
The foundation of his attire was a close-fitting saffron tunic with angular orange patterns that resembled sharp gusts of wind. The tunic's design was sleek and aerodynamic, crafted from lightweight yet durable material that allowed for swift movement in combat. Over the tunic, he wore segmented cuirasses in a muted white, reinforced with a flexible composite that shimmered faintly in the sunlight. The chest plates bore the symbol of the Air Empire: an intricate spiral of wind etched with precision.
His pants were slim and streamlined, tapering into snug, calf-high boots made from supple, weather-resistant material. The boots were devoid of unnecessary embellishments, designed purely for function, and offered exceptional grip for both ground combat and aerial maneuvers.
A distinctive element of his attire was the long, sleeveless mantle in a darker shade of orange, fastened at the shoulders with silver clasps shaped like gliders. The mantle's edges were cut in jagged, wind-like patterns, fluttering dramatically as they moved. The fabric seemed to ripple unnaturally, as though caught in an invisible breeze—a subtle display of his bending prowess. He wore fitted gloves that extended just past the wrists, their design sleek and minimal.
If it wasn't for his imposing presence, Kima would have found this uniform to be rather unique and, oddly, pretty. But as Sivak led the Envoy into his tent, she felt her mother's hand on her shoulder, a subtle yet firm gesture of reassurance. "Stay calm," Suna murmured, though her own unease was clear.
Kima nodded but couldn't tear her eyes away from the figures. Her stomach churned as she watched the Wind Envoy move with the practiced grace of someone who was used to being in control. His robes, adorned with intricate wind patterns embroidered in silver thread, seemed to catch the light unnaturally, drawing the eye like a beacon. He exuded authority, but there was something unsettling about him—something Kima couldn't quite place.
"Kima," Kota's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He was at her side now, having moved from where he had been previously, his face tense. "What do you think they're here for?"
"Nothing good," she replied, her voice low. Her eyes flicked to Banzan, who had dismounted and was standing rigid near the tent's entrance, like a silent sentinel guarding a fortress. "Envoys don't just show up without a reason. And Sentinels definitely don't show up just for fun."
Kota frowned, his hand drifting instinctively to the knife strapped to his belt. "I don't like this."
Before Kima could respond, Pasang turned his head slightly, as if he had heard their conversation despite the distance. His sharp gaze landed on them, and Kima felt an icy chill crawl up her spine. Kota tensed beside her, his fingers tightening around the hilt of his knife.
Pasang's expression didn't change, but his eyes lingered on them for a moment longer before he disappeared into the chieftain's tent. The flap closed behind him, leaving the villagers outside to stew in their unease.
As the flap of the chieftain's tent fell closed, the village settled into a tense silence. All eyes were on the imposing Wind Sentinel standing near the entrance. Banzan stood rigid, his sharp gaze sweeping over the gathered villagers. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his staff, a subtle but unmistakable symbol of authority.
After a long moment, he spoke, his voice low and even but carrying effortlessly over the hushed settlement. "Return to your work. There is nothing here that concerns you."
The villagers hesitated, exchanging uncertain glances. Slowly, they began to move, resuming their tasks with deliberate care. The tension didn't dissipate; if anything, it grew heavier, the air thick with unease.
Kima tried to focus on the squid she was preparing with her mother, but her hands shook slightly. She glanced at Kota, who crouched nearby, his expression tight with frustration. "That guy doesn't even have to raise his voice," Kota muttered under his breath. "He's got everyone scared stiff."
"Because they know what he's capable of," Kima replied quietly. Her eyes flicked back to Banzan. The Sentinel hadn't moved, but his presence loomed over the village like a storm cloud.
At first, his gaze roamed, taking in the settlement with calculated precision. But then, to Kima's dismay, his eyes settled on her.
She froze, her heart thudding in her chest. His expression didn't change, but there was something piercing about his focus, as though he could see right through her.
"Kima?" her mother's voice broke through her thoughts. She looked down to find her mother watching her with concern. "Are you all right?"
"Y-yeah," Kima stammered, forcing a smile. She resumed her work, trying to appear unbothered. But she could feel his gaze on her, heavy and unrelenting.
"Why's he staring at you?" Kota whispered, leaning closer under the pretense of adjusting his boots.
"I don't know," Kima replied, her voice barely audible. Her fingers trembled as she worked, and she cursed herself for not keeping her composure.
Banzan didn't approach or say anything more. He simply stood there, watching her with an intensity that made her skin crawl. Around them, the village continued its uneasy rhythm, but Kima felt as though she were caught in a spotlight.
Finally, she dared another glance at him. His eyes met hers, and she quickly looked away, a chill running down her spine.
"Kima," Kota said softly, his tone more serious now. "Be careful."
She nodded, swallowing hard. Whatever the Sentinel's interest in her was, she knew it couldn't be good. The knot in her stomach tightened as she focused on the squid in front of her, pretending everything was fine. But inside, she felt anything but calm.
Time dragged on, the tension in the village stretching thinner with each passing moment. Kima forced herself to focus on her task, though her mind raced with speculation. She stole glances at the chieftain's tent, the flap closed tightly against prying eyes.
Banzan remained where he was, unmoving, a sentinel in every sense of the word. Though his gaze no longer lingered solely on Kima, she could still feel his presence, sharp and oppressive. The villagers moved cautiously around him, their usual chatter subdued to whispers. Even the children, typically full of boundless energy, played quietly under the watchful eyes of their mothers.
Finally, after what felt like hours, the tent flap rustled. The Wind Envoy emerged first, his expression composed, though there was a subtle weight to his movements that hadn't been there before. He paused to adjust his ceremonial robes, his calm demeanor betraying nothing of what had transpired inside.
Chief Sivak followed closely behind, his face a careful mask. To the untrained eye, he appeared calm, but Kima knew him well enough to catch the slight tension in his jaw, the way his hands clasped behind his back a little too tightly.
"Thank you for your time, Chief," Pasang said, his voice carrying across the village with effortless authority. "We trust you will give our words the consideration they deserve."
Sivak inclined his head. "Of course, Master Pasang. Safe travels."
The Envoy gave a small, measured smile before turning toward the sky bison. Banzan, as if on cue, moved to rejoin him. His strides were slow and deliberate, his hand still resting on his staff.
Kima watched as the two airbenders approached the bison, the massive creature rumbling softly as they climbed onto its back. The Envoy settled into his seat with the ease of someone accustomed to such journeys, while Banzan took his place behind him, scanning the village one last time.
As the bison rose into the air with a powerful leap, the villagers collectively exhaled. Conversations resumed, though the unease lingered like a shadow. One of the older boys, emboldened by the airbenders' exit, threw a jagged stick after the disappearing bison, warning them to never come back. As the chatter and bustle resumed, Kota was the first to speak, his voice low as he crouched beside Kima. "What do you think they talked about?"
"I don't know," she replied, her eyes following the bison as it disappeared into the sky. "But it didn't look good."
Her mother placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Whatever it was, it's over now. Let's just focus on today."
But Kima couldn't shake the feeling that it wasn't over. Not really. Whatever the airbenders had come for, it was only the beginning.
Across the village, Sivak stood outside his tent, his gaze fixed on the horizon. For a moment, he looked weary, the weight of leadership pressing heavily on his shoulders. Then he straightened, calling over one of the tribal elders to speak in hushed tones.
Kima exchanged a glance with Kota, who gave her a grim nod. "Something's coming," he said quietly. "And I don't think we'll like it."
Kima nodded, the unease in her stomach deepening. The airbenders were gone, but their presence lingered like the cold wind, cutting through the fragile peace of the Southern Tribe.
A/N: I really like how this is turning out! I wanted to find ways to differentiate between the different types of airbenders that exist within the Air Empire and I liked the idea of a more militant type look for this group, the Wind Sentinels. There'll be more on them and the Wind Envoys later, but I hope you guys liked this! I'm having so much fun writing it :)