Time blurred as Appa soared through the sky, the vast ocean below stretching endlessly in every direction. Kima kept her eyes on the water, though it only seemed to heighten her anxiety. The surface was constantly moving, restless and alive, and the sight of it zipping by so quickly made her stomach churn.

She gripped the edges of the saddle tightly, her fingers white with tension. The quiet between her and Aang was oppressive, his silence making her more uneasy with each passing hour. She tried to focus on the sound of the wind or the rhythmic flapping of Appa's tail, but her mind refused to settle.

At some point, the air shifted. It grew colder, sharper, and the sunlight dimmed as a blanket of clouds rolled in. The water below turned a strange greenish-blue, its surface choppier, almost hostile.

Aang broke his silence, speaking softly to Appa in a language Kima didn't understand. Before she could process what was happening, Appa tilted sharply upward, his massive body propelling them into the sky with surprising speed.

Kima gasped, her heart leaping into her throat as the sudden ascent pressed her back into the saddle. "What's happening?" she cried, her voice shaky.

Aang glanced back briefly, his expression calm. "Don't worry. We're just climbing above the clouds. It'll be smoother up there."

But his reassurance did little to soothe her. The higher they climbed, the more panicked she felt. The air grew thinner and colder, the clouds swallowing them in a gray haze before they finally broke through into the open sky above.

The sun was blinding against the endless expanse of white clouds, and the world seemed eerily quiet, the wind muffled at this altitude.

Appa surged forward, faster now, and Kima clutched the saddle straps with both hands, her breath coming in short gasps.

"Stop panicking," Aang said, his tone firm but not unkind. "You're not going to fall. I won't let that happen."

His words were meant to comfort her, but the speed and height were too overwhelming. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to stay calm as Appa continued to soar above the clouds.

After what felt like an eternity, Aang guided Appa lower again, descending back through the clouds. The air was warmer here, though still brisk, and the landscape that greeted them stole Kima's breath.

A massive mountain range loomed ahead, its peaks jagged and snow-capped, stretching as far as the eye could see. As they drew closer, she noticed the outlines of structures carved into the mountains—gigantic temples, their size and grandeur beyond anything she'd ever seen.

She stared in stunned silence, her fear momentarily forgotten. The temples seemed to grow larger with every passing second, their intricate designs catching the light as if they were alive.

Before she could comment, Appa suddenly made a sharp dive, and her stomach flipped. She yelped, gripping the saddle as tightly as she could, but the dive was short, and Appa soon leveled off again.

Now they were low enough for Kima to see more details. Streets wound through the mountains like veins, connecting statues, smaller buildings, and lush green spaces that dotted the area. It was a city unlike anything she'd ever imagined—grand and intimidating in equal measure.

In the distance, a group of airbenders flew on gliders, their movements synchronized in a graceful pattern that looked both effortless and deliberate. Kima watched them, awestruck and unnerved.

Aang steered Appa toward the heart of the city, where a cluster of ornate structures rose above the rest. As they climbed one last time, a smaller but no less imposing building came into view.

"This is it," Aang said, his voice quieter now, almost contemplative.

Kima didn't respond. Her eyes were locked on the scene before her, a mixture of awe and dread coursing through her veins. They had arrived.

Appa's descent was smooth and steady, his massive paws touching down with a soft thud in a clearing just outside the grand structure that was Aang's home. The landing space was bordered by carefully manicured gardens, the grass lush and green even at this altitude.

Before Appa had fully settled, two attendants emerged from the building, their robes pristine and flowing lightly in the breeze. They moved with a quiet precision, their expressions respectful as they approached.

Aang swung his leg over the saddle and slid down Appa's side with practiced ease. He greeted the attendants with a nod, his tone calm and authoritative. "Eido, see to Appa's care. He's had a long flight. Linh, you'll take her inside."

He gestured toward Kima as he spoke, then turned back to help her. He climbed onto the saddle again and untied her restraints, his movements careful but efficient.

"Come on," he said, his voice gentler now. He reached out a hand, and though Kima hesitated, she eventually took it. Aang helped her down, making sure she landed safely on the ground.

The attendants both turned their attention to Kima. Linh's gaze lingered for a moment, her expression unreadable, before she gave a small bow and stepped forward.

"Take her to one of the back rooms," Aang instructed Linh. "She'll need to wash and change. Make sure everything is ready for her."

Linh bowed again. "Yes, Avatar."

Without another word, she gestured for Kima to follow. Kima cast one last look at Aang before reluctantly trailing after the attendant.

As they entered the building, Kima couldn't help but glance around, catching glimpses of the interior. The walls were adorned with intricate airbender carvings, their swirling patterns reminiscent of the wind itself. High ceilings arched above, and natural light poured in through carefully placed windows. The air smelled faintly of incense, and the entire space radiated a sense of controlled elegance.

Linh led her down a series of hallways, the floors polished to a shine, until they reached a room near the back of the house. The door was already open, revealing a modest space with a bed, a small table, and a basin of water.

Linh stepped aside and began setting down clean towels, a bar of soap, and a folded robe on a nearby table.

"You'll bathe in the adjoining room," Linh said, her tone neutral. She gestured toward a door at the far side of the room. "Everything you need is there. When you're done, return here. Someone will bring food later."

With that, Linh left, closing the door behind her.

Kima stood there for a moment, staring at the door. Everything was moving so fast, and her mind struggled to keep up. It didn't feel real that she was here, in the heart of the Air Nomad Empire, in what was clearly the Avatar's personal residence.

The weight of it all pressed down on her as she finally moved toward the adjoining room. The bath was simple but clean, the water already drawn and still warm. She hesitated for a moment before slipping in, letting the heat soothe her aching muscles.

When she emerged, her skin pink from the heat, she found a set of clothes neatly folded on the bed. They were simple, but the fabric was soft and clearly of high quality.

As she dressed, the reality of her situation began to sink in. She was in pure Air Nomad territory now, far from home and entirely at their mercy. The thought made her stomach churn.

Kima paced around the room, her eyes flitting nervously from one detail to the next. The carvings on the walls seemed to twist and turn under the dim light, and the room's stillness made her feel small. Her fingers brushed over the polished wood of the small table, her thoughts racing. The weight of everything—her capture, the long journey, the imposing nature of this place—was bearing down on her.

A soft knock at the door broke the silence, and an attendant entered carrying a tray of food. The smell of freshly steamed vegetables and fragrant rice filled the room, but Kima barely registered it.

"You may eat here," the attendant said, setting the tray down on the table. Her voice was calm but distant. She offered Kima a small bow before leaving the room.

Kima stared at the tray, her stomach twisting in knots. The food looked appetizing, a stark contrast to the bland meals at the Air Temple, but she couldn't bring herself to eat. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, her hands gripping the fabric of her borrowed robe.

The silence grew heavier, and as the minutes passed, the reality of her situation finally crashed down on her. She wasn't going home. She wasn't even sure if Sena and Anik were alive. Her breathing quickened, her chest tightening as dizziness overtook her. The room felt like it was spinning, and nausea bubbled up in her stomach.

The door creaked open again, and the same attendant stepped inside, her expression shifting to concern when she saw Kima hunched over, trembling.

"Miss, are you unwell?" she asked, rushing to her side.

Kima nodded weakly, unable to speak. The attendant gently guided her to lie down on the bed, propping her head up with a pillow.

"Stay here. I'll bring something to help," the attendant said before leaving the room.

Moments later, she returned with a steaming cup of tea, the fragrant steam curling in the air. She held it out to Kima. "This should help settle your stomach."

Kima hesitated, her hands trembling as she took the cup. The attendant watched her closely. "I should inform the Avatar about your condition."

"No," Kima croaked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Please… don't. I'll feel better soon. I just need rest."

The attendant frowned, clearly uncertain, but she relented. "Very well. I'll check on you later."

When the attendant left, Kima sipped the tea tentatively. The warmth spread through her, but her mind felt foggy, her thoughts distant. It was as if she were floating, her body heavy but her mind light. The room blurred at the edges, and she drifted into an uneasy sleep.

When Kima woke, her body felt weak, and her stomach growled in protest. A warm, damp rag rested on her forehead, and she blinked in confusion. The faint light of dawn seeped through the room, softening the shadows.

She didn't notice Aang standing near the doorway until he spoke. "You're awake."

Kima flinched, her heart skipping a beat as she turned to see him. He stepped closer, his expression unreadable but his tone softer than she expected.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked.

Kima didn't respond, her gaze dropping to the bedcovers. Aang sighed quietly and pulled a chair closer, sitting down beside the bed.

"I'm sorry I wasn't here to make sure you were settled in," he said. "I had to meet with one of the elders about something important."

Kima remained silent, her hands clutching the blanket.

"You'll feel better by tomorrow," Aang continued, his voice steady. "Once you've recovered, I'll explain what you can expect here and go over a few things you'll need to know."

He got up and gestured to a bowl of fruit next to the bed. "I don't know if you could handle anything else right now, but if you get hungry this is for you. Try to get some rest for now." Then, just like that, he was gone, leaving her alone again.

The quiet hum of the room wrapped around Kima as she sat up, her head still heavy and her limbs sluggish. The nausea lingered, but it was duller now, no longer the overwhelming wave it had been. She glanced at the tray of fruit left on the small table beside the bed. The colors—vivid oranges, deep reds, and pale greens—blurred slightly as her vision wavered.

Kima hesitated, reaching for a slice of something that looked familiar, a fruit she'd seen once back home after a lost Fire Nation ship ended up on their banks. She bit into it cautiously, its sweetness flooding her mouth. It was the first thing she'd eaten since the tea, and though it didn't ease her sickness, it gave her a faint sense of normalcy.

Her fingers brushed the edge of the tray as she set the half-eaten fruit back down, and she stared at it, her mind wandering.

What's wrong with me? she thought. Her body felt foreign, uncooperative, as though it were rebelling against her will. She didn't understand why she was sick, but the strange, nagging thought surfaced again: Aang hadn't let her suffer.

She shifted uncomfortably at the thought of him, the image of his calm, steady demeanor lingering in her mind. He had spoken to her gently, even apologized for not tending to her himself. The warmth in his voice, so unexpected from someone she feared, left her unsettled.

Does he really care if I'm okay?

The idea was confusing, almost infuriating. She didn't want to see him as anything but a captor, the figurehead of an empire that had stolen so much from her and others like her. But as much as she tried to deny it, she couldn't shake the gratitude creeping into her chest.

Her thoughts turned to her mother.

"What would you do if you were here?" Kima whispered, her voice barely audible. Her throat tightened, and her hands curled into fists.

Her mother had always known how to make her feel better, even on her worst days. She'd brew herbal teas with the perfect balance of sweetness and spice, wrap her in the softest blanket, and hum lullabies until Kima's worries melted away. The ache in her chest deepened as she wondered if she'd ever see her mother again, ever feel her warm embrace or hear her gentle laugh.

A single tear slid down her cheek, and she wiped it away angrily.

She couldn't let herself spiral. Not here. Not now.

Kima lay back down, the soft mattress swallowing her exhaustion. Her gaze drifted to the ceiling, where faint patterns carved into the wood seemed to sway in the dim light. She tried to focus on her breathing, willing the nausea to subside.

Her eyelids grew heavy, and her body relaxed against the bed. As she drifted into sleep, her last coherent thought was a whisper of defiance mixed with longing:

I'll see you again, Mama. I have to.

Kima woke slowly, her head still foggy but the oppressive sickness from before had mostly subsided. Her limbs felt heavy, but she could sit up without the wave of nausea threatening to pull her back down. She rubbed her eyes, squinting as sunlight streamed through the window, and took a moment to let her surroundings come into focus.

A strange sound broke the silence—a loud, resonant tone that seemed to echo across the entire area. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was startling enough to make her tense. She turned her head toward the window, as though she might catch a glimpse of its source, but all she saw was a sliver of blue sky framed by the edge of the temple rooftops.

Before she could dwell on it, the door opened, and Linh stepped in, her presence calm but brisk. The attendant's eyes lit up when she saw Kima sitting up.

"You're awake," Linh said warmly, stepping closer. "How are you feeling?"

Kima hesitated before replying, still not entirely sure how she felt. "Better, I think. Still… a little off."

Linh nodded, her hands clasped in front of her. "That's good to hear. You should feel normal again soon."

There was a brief pause, the silence punctuated by the same strange sound from outside. Kima frowned, tilting her head. "What is that noise?"

Linh smiled, as though the question amused her. "It's the training bell. It signals that the children are practicing their airbending in the skies with their gliders. It lets the adults know to be cautious with their bison and their own bending while the children are up there."

Kima blinked, taken aback. She hadn't expected that answer. The image of young airbenders flying through the skies made her stomach twist, but at the same time, she found it… oddly endearing. "There's a warning bell for flying children?" she asked, her tone skeptical but faintly amused.

Linh chuckled softly. "There is. It's safer for everyone that way. They can get quite ambitious with their stunts."

Kima didn't reply, but her lips twitched into the faintest shadow of a smile. The thought of children soaring freely in the skies was such a stark contrast to everything she'd experienced recently that it felt almost surreal.

"It's already midday," Linh said, her tone shifting. "Would you like me to bring you something for lunch?"

"Midday?" Kima repeated, startled. She hadn't realized she'd slept so long. Her stomach grumbled softly in response, betraying her. "Um, yes, please. That would be nice."

Linh inclined her head. "I'll be back shortly. Avatar Aang will come to speak with you once he returns."

At that, Kima froze. Linh's words hung in the air, and a cold knot of anxiety coiled in her stomach. She didn't say anything as Linh gave her a polite nod and left the room, but as soon as the door clicked shut, Kima exhaled shakily.

Her appetite faded as dread crept in. What would Aang say? What would he want from her now?

Kima leaned back against the headboard, her mind racing. She tried to distract herself by focusing on the strange sounds outside, imagining the children on their gliders. But no matter how much she tried to push the thought of Aang's return out of her head, it lingered like a dark cloud on the horizon.

Kima sat in silence, letting her thoughts wander as she took in her surroundings. The room was simple but spacious, its walls adorned with soft tapestries that shifted faintly in the breeze from the open window. The faint scent of herbs lingered in the air, likely from the tea Linh had given her earlier. She traced the intricate patterns of the wooden beams on the ceiling, her mind flitting between the present and the uneasy memories of how she'd ended up here.

She was so lost in thought that the soft knock on the door startled her. Linh stepped inside, balancing a tray with an assortment of food. The sight of it—fresh fruit, steamed vegetables, and a bowl of rice—made Kima realize how hungry she actually was.

"Here's your lunch," Linh said, setting the tray on the small table by the window. "If you'd like, you can sit outside in the garden to eat. It's peaceful there, and the fresh air might do you good."

Kima hesitated, her instinct to stay in the room warring with a desire to see more of her surroundings. In the end, curiosity won out. "Okay," she said softly.

Linh smiled and gestured for Kima to follow. She led her through a short hallway and out a side door that opened into a lush, tranquil garden. Kima's breath hitched as she took it in. Stone pathways wound between carefully tended plants, and the soft sound of a small fountain trickled nearby. The air smelled faintly of blossoms and earth, a sharp contrast to the cold, sterile air of the temple she'd been in before.

Kima settled onto a bench at Linh's suggestion, and the attendant placed the tray on a small table beside her before leaving her to eat in peace. For a while, Kima simply sat there, taking tentative bites of the food and letting her eyes wander.

In the distance, she caught sight of movement in the sky—tiny figures darting and swirling above the city grounds. She remembered Linh's explanation about the children practicing with their gliders, and she found herself watching them with a mix of awe and unease. The idea of so many children flying freely was as foreign to her as everything else about this place.

Despite the beauty of the garden and the peacefulness of the moment, Kima couldn't shake the tension coiling in her chest. The tranquility felt fragile, like a bubble that could burst at any moment. She tried to focus on the sound of the fountain and the rustling leaves, but her thoughts kept drifting back to what might happen once Aang returned.

She stayed there for what felt like a long time, nibbling at her food and letting the garden's stillness calm her nerves, if only slightly.

Eventually, Linh returned, her steps quiet on the stone path. "Are you ready to head back inside?" she asked gently.

Kima nodded, setting the empty tray aside. Linh smiled faintly and gestured for her to follow again.

Once they were back inside, Linh guided her to a washbasin and fresh towels, offering her the chance to freshen up. "The Avatar will be returning shortly," Linh said, her tone as polite as ever. "It's best to be prepared."

Kima's stomach twisted at the reminder, but she simply nodded, grateful for the momentary distraction as she splashed cool water on her face.

Linh returned to Kima's room with a polite knock before stepping inside. "He will see you shortly," she said, her tone calm but efficient. "I'll take you to the sitting room to wait for him."

Kima hesitated, her heart thudding. "Alright," she replied quietly, standing and smoothing her clothes nervously.

Linh led her through the house, the soft patter of their footsteps the only sound in the halls. Kima glanced around as they walked, taking in the serene beauty of Aang's home. The wooden walls were adorned with elegant carvings of airbending motifs, and the faint scent of incense lingered in the air. Despite its beauty, the place felt stifling to her—a reminder of how far she was from home.

The sitting room was spacious yet simple, with low chairs and cushions arranged around a central table. Sunlight streamed through a large window, illuminating the room in a warm glow. Linh gestured for Kima to sit.

"Wait here," Linh said. "He won't be long."

Kima nodded, her hands twisting nervously in her lap as Linh left the room. Minutes felt like hours as she sat there, the quiet only amplifying her anxiety. She tried to focus on her breathing, but her thoughts kept spiraling—what would Aang say? What did he want from her?

When the sound of footsteps reached her ears, her heart skipped a beat. She stiffened as Aang entered the room, his robes flowing gracefully as he moved. He offered her a small nod, his expression unreadable.

"Good afternoon, Kima," he said, his voice calm but commanding. He crossed the room and sat in a chair opposite her. "I hope you're feeling better today."

"Yes," Kima replied softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Aang studied her for a moment, his gray eyes piercing. "That's good to hear. I know yesterday was difficult for you, and I hope the rest has helped."

She nodded, unsure of what to say.

"Now," Aang began, leaning forward slightly, "I think it's time we discuss what's expected of you here in Zephyros."

Kima's stomach twisted, but she forced herself to meet his gaze.

"I understand this is all very new to you," Aang continued, his tone steady. "Zephyros is unlike anywhere else in the world, and its rules are designed to maintain order and harmony. While you're here, you will be expected to follow these rules. But I also have some rules of my own for you."

Kima swallowed hard. She knew she probably wouldn't like the answer, but she had to know. "What kind of rules?"

Aang's expression remained calm, but there was an undeniable authority in his voice as he spoke. "First and foremost, you are not to leave this house without permission. Zephyros is vast and can be overwhelming for newcomers. It's for your safety."

She nodded hesitantly, her hands tightening in her lap.

"Second," he continued, "you will show respect to those who live and work here. Linh and the other attendants are here to assist you, but they are not your servants. Treat them kindly, and they will do the same for you."

Kima's lips pressed into a thin line, but she nodded again.

"Third," Aang said, his voice softening slightly, "you are not a prisoner here, Kima. I don't want you to feel that way. However, I do expect you to conduct yourself with dignity and to cooperate when asked. Do you understand?"

Her throat felt tight, but she managed to whisper, "Yes."

Aang leaned back in his chair, his expression unreadable. "Good. For now, your focus should be on recovering your strength and adjusting to your new surroundings. Linh will continue to assist you with anything you need."

He stood, his movements fluid and purposeful. "I'll leave you to rest for now. We'll talk more once you're feeling stronger."

With that, he turned and left the room, the soft sound of the door closing behind him.

Kima sat frozen, her mind racing. The rules he'd outlined felt like chains, subtle but unyielding. Though his tone had been calm, she couldn't shake the feeling of being trapped, her freedom slipping further away with every passing moment.

Her thoughts turned inward, spiraling as she tried to process everything. Was this her life now? Was she really supposed to just live here, following rules she had no say in? The idea of staying in Zephyros, surrounded by airbenders and under Aang's watch, filled her with a suffocating dread.

And yet, she couldn't deny the strange contradiction in her feelings. Aang didn't seem cruel. He had ensured she was cared for when she was sick, and his rules, though restrictive, didn't feel malicious. It was almost as if he genuinely believed this was for her own good.

Kima shook her head, her hands trembling in her lap. No matter how kind or calm Aang seemed, she couldn't let herself forget the reality—she was here against her will, and that was all that mattered.

The weight of her situation pressed down on her like a heavy blanket of snow, and for a moment, all she could do was sit there, lost in her thoughts.

12 AE

The boy stood in the center of the grand hall, his small frame dwarfed by the towering columns and the stoic figures seated before him. Aang's heart pounded in his chest, but he kept his expression calm, his hands clasped tightly behind his back as he faced the Council of Elders.

They were silent, their eyes sharp and expectant. Gyatso was among them, his expression kind yet unreadable. When Aang glanced at him, Gyatso offered a small, encouraging smile.

In front of Aang, two guards brought forward a man in tattered Fire Nation armor. The soldier's wrists were bound, and his face was contorted in fury and fear.

"Avatar Aang," one of the elders said, his voice as cold and firm as stone. "Demonstrate your mastery. Show us that you are capable of wielding the power necessary to maintain balance."

Aang stood, unease twisting in his stomach. He knew this was coming; Gyatso had said so, that the rest of the Council wanted to see him do these newer, offensive techniques to show his readiness and capabilities. But that didn't make him any less nervous.

The Fire Nation soldier glared at Aang, his lips curling into a sneer. "You think this boy can maintain balance? Look at him—he's just a spoiled brat playing dress-up. You're no Avatar, just a coward hiding behind your elders!"

Aang flinched inwardly at the soldier's words but forced himself to remain still. His hands clenched tighter behind his back.

"Focus, Aang," Gyatso said gently. "Remember what I taught you. Let go of doubt."

The soldier's taunts grew louder, more venomous. "Do you hear me, boy? You're nothing! The Fire Nation will crush your precious Air Nomads, and you'll be powerless to stop it!"

A spark of anger ignited within Aang, hot and unfamiliar. He closed his eyes, breathing deeply as he centered himself. He had practiced this technique with Gyatso before, but only on inanimate objects. Never on a person.

He raised his hands, his movements slow and deliberate, feeling the air around him shift. The soldier continued to bark insults, but Aang tuned him out, focusing on the swirling energy in his palms.

The air around the soldier began to compress, the pressure mounting as Aang manipulated the flow. The man's voice faltered, his bravado replaced with panic.

"Wait—stop! You can't do this!"

Aang hesitated, his hands trembling slightly. The man's fear was palpable, and for a moment, he wondered if he could really go through with it.

"Aang," Gyatso said softly, his tone firm.

The boy opened his eyes, locking onto Gyatso's steady gaze. The elder's smile hadn't faltered. Aang took a deep breath, suppressing the flicker of doubt.

With a swift motion, he completed the technique.

The soldier let out a choked gasp before his body imploded inward, a flash of light and a sickening sound echoing through the hall. When the dust settled, nothing remained but silence.

The elders began to clap, their expressions approving. Aang turned to face them, forcing a smile as he bowed deeply. His hands were still shaking.

"Well done, Avatar Aang," one of the elders said. "You are progressing well."

Aang straightened, his smile fading as he glanced back at the spot where the soldier had stood.

Aang sat cross-legged on the floor of his quarters, the faint glow of moonlight filtering through the paper screens. The memory of that day lingered in his mind, vivid and unyielding. He could still hear the soldier's screams, still feel the weight of the elders' approving gazes.

He exhaled slowly, rubbing his temples. He deserved it, Aang told himself for what felt like the thousandth time. The Fire Nation had brought nothing but destruction and suffering. The soldier had been a threat—a small piece of a much larger enemy. He had threatened him, his people. Eliminating him was a necessary act, a step toward maintaining balance.

But deep down, Aang knew the truth. It wasn't just necessity that had driven him that day. It was anger. The soldier's taunts had burrowed under his skin, fueling a fire he hadn't been able to control.

He shook his head, rising to his feet and pacing the room. He couldn't afford to dwell on the past. Regret was a weakness, a distraction from the Empire's greater purpose.

And yet, the memory refused to fade. It clung to him like a shadow, a reminder of the fine line he walked as both the Avatar and a servant of the Air Empire.

Aang moved to the window, gazing out at the city below. Zephyros was quiet at this hour, the streets bathed in soft moonlight. It was a vision of peace and order, a testament to the Empire's strength.

But as Aang stood there, the faint echo of the soldier's voice whispered in the back of his mind, and he couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that his anger that day had set him on a path he might never escape.

A/N: I already love writing about Zephyros lol. Guys I promise this city is the coolest thing and I can't wait to explore and expand on it with you all. And yes, there's going to be a lot more flashbacks, specifically from Aang, because honestly a lot of things happened in his childhood that's shaped him to be who he is currently. He's not 'evil' in this story, but he's definitely not innocent like he is in the show, and that sort of thing was encouraged by his elders. Also, I'm going to be showing some more major differences between the show and these air nomads that you'll either love or hate - we'll just have to see! But let me know what you think!