The first light of dawn filtered through the thin screens of Aang's quarters, casting soft patterns across the floor. He sat cross-legged on a simple mat, his hands resting on his knees, his eyes closed in deep meditation. The air was still and quiet, save for the faint rustle of the wind outside.
He inhaled deeply, holding the breath for a moment before exhaling in a steady stream. The practice was grounding, a reminder of his connection to the world and the elements that bound it together. As he meditated, he recited the ancient prayers, his voice barely above a whisper.
After an hour, he rose gracefully to his feet, his movements fluid and deliberate. He stretched briefly before making his way to the dining area, where his attendants had prepared a simple but nourishing breakfast of fruit, rice, and tea. He ate in silence, his mind already focused on the tasks awaiting him. He had a full day today so he wouldn't be able to speak to Kima again until later. He knew that she must have a lot of questions, namely what she was doing and why he brought her here. He himself still couldn't figure it out, but he would soon enough.
Once finished, Aang washed and dressed in his formal robes, the intricate patterns of airbender symbols woven into the fabric a testament to his station. Before leaving his quarters, he summoned Linh, who arrived promptly, bowing deeply.
"Linh," Aang began, his tone calm, "I have a full schedule today and won't be able to check in on Kima. If she's feeling well enough, you can let her explore the property, but she isn't to leave. I have to tell the elders she's here before she can go into the city."
"Yes, Avatar Aang," Linh replied, her head still bowed.
"Keep her away from my quarters and personal study," he continued. "But she's allowed to go everywhere else. If she has any questions you can answer."
Linh nodded. "I understand, Avatar."
Satisfied, Aang dismissed her with a nod before stepping outside. The morning air was crisp and cool against his skin. His personal glider, a sleek design crafted specifically for him, rested nearby. With a practiced motion, he unfolded it, the canvas catching the wind instantly.
As he pushed off the ground, the familiar rush of air enveloped him, lifting him higher into the sky. Zephyros stretched beneath him, a masterpiece of architecture and nature intertwined. The sprawling city, built on floating islands and towering spires, seemed to breathe with life as airbenders and sky bison moved fluidly through the open spaces. Below, the residential quarters and communal halls blended seamlessly with lush gardens, winding bridges, and statues of past Avatars and revered masters. Above, the grandest structure of them all—the highest temple in the city—stood in solemn majesty, its golden spire reflecting the early sunlight.
Aang let the wind guide him, allowing his thoughts to drift as he approached the temple.
He had never asked to be Avatar.
That thought had plagued him for years, ever since he had been pulled before the Council as a child. He had still been reeling from the truth of his identity when they had called on him to prove himself—again and again. The first time he had been asked to use that lethal technique, he had hesitated. But hesitation had no place in the Air Empire. He had learned quickly.
Aang exhaled sharply, shaking off the memory. He had long since accepted his role. His duty. The Council of Elders would be expecting him, and he couldn't afford to dwell on the past now.
With a final turn, he adjusted his path and soared toward the temple's entrance.
The Air Empire, vast and sprawling, was an anomaly in the world. While many empires were defined by the presence of a singular ruler, a figurehead whose will was law, the Air Empire had no such emperor. Instead, it was ruled by a council of airbenders—elders, war tacticians. scholars, and spiritual leaders—each one holding power in different sectors of society. They operated as a collective, an intricate web of decisions made through consensus, with each faction having an equal voice.
The central governing body, known simply as the Council of Elders or, most lately, the "Council of Winds," was made up of the most esteemed airbenders from across the Empire. They convened in the highest temple in Zephorys, a towering spire of white stone that pierced the clouds, casting its shadow over the land below. Here, surrounded by wind-chimes and the distant calls of sky bison, the council would meet to deliberate on matters of war, diplomacy, and policy.
The Council was not bound by bloodlines or titles. Power did not come from inheritance, but from skill, wisdom, and loyalty to the Empire's ideals. Those who served were chosen for their deep connection to the air, their ability to bend the winds and understand the complex philosophies that underpinned their empire. Each council member's seat was earned, not passed down, which was a good thing sometimes. Other times, it was not.
The wind carried Aang swiftly through the sky, his glider slicing through the morning air with practiced ease. Below him, the city of Zephyros stretched in all directions, its winding paths and towering structures bathed in the golden light of dawn. The city was alive, but in a way that was serene rather than chaotic; airbenders moved gracefully between rooftops, gliding and leaping with effortless precision. Bison soared in the distance, their deep calls resonating through the peaks.
As Aang ascended, the grand temple at the heart of Zephyros loomed ahead, its spires reaching toward the heavens. It was the highest structure in the city, carved into the mountain itself, an ancient marvel of airbender architecture. The temple gleamed white against the backdrop of the sky, its domed roofs adorned with intricate wind patterns that shifted ever so slightly with the breeze.
Aang landed lightly on the temple's grand balcony, where a row of attendants in deep yellow and white robes waited. As soon as his feet touched the ground, they bowed deeply, their foreheads nearly touching the polished stone floor.
"Avatar Aang," they greeted in unison, their voices soft but reverent.
Aang gave them a small nod before stepping forward. The moment he passed, the attendants straightened, silently falling into place behind him, ready to serve should he require anything. The halls of the temple were expansive, lined with towering columns that stretched so high they seemed to vanish into the vaulted ceilings. Soft wind chimes echoed through the corridors, their melodies carried by gentle drafts that whispered through the open-air design.
Servants and monks he passed all paused in their duties to bow respectfully before stepping aside to let him through. Their eyes never lingered on him for too long—out of respect, out of reverence. Some of the younger acolytes whispered in hushed tones as he walked by, quickly silenced by the older monks who chided them for their lack of discipline.
Finally, he reached the doors to the meeting hall, which opened without a sound as two attendants pushed them aside. The room beyond was breathtaking—a space so open and vast it felt as though he had stepped into the sky itself. Though indoors, the chamber had no solid ceiling, only high arching beams that allowed natural light to spill in from above. The floor was composed of pristine white marble, with intricate swirling patterns carved into it, mirroring the flow of air currents. A shallow reflecting pool surrounded the circular room, its surface so still that it looked like polished glass, reflecting the sky above. At the center of the room, a circular table made of finely polished stone sat, the seats arranged in a perfect ring.
The elders were already present, some seated while others stood conversing in low voices. A few of them were still enjoying breakfast—small bowls of fruit, rice, and tea placed neatly before them. Their robes were pristine, each embroidered with the insignia of their respective orders, denoting their rank and influence.
As Aang entered, the murmurs ceased, and in perfect unison, the elders turned to him. They rose from their seats, bowing deeply.
"Avatar Aang," one of the eldest members intoned, his voice rich with age and wisdom. "Welcome back from your journey. We've been awaiting you."
Aang stepped forward and bowed to them, and with a fluid motion, he took his place in the seat of honor at the head of the council. The morning light reflected off the polished surfaces of the chamber, casting long, graceful shadows that swayed with the wind. He folded his hands in his lap, meeting the gazes of those around him.
Aang inclined his head in silent acknowledgment as he settled into the seat of honor, his expression composed. The elders waited for a moment before Elder Tenzin, an elder statesman and one of the longest-serving council members, leaned forward slightly, his voice even.
"Avatar Aang," he began, "I trust your journey to the south was productive? Have you any news?"
Aang folded his hands before him. "Yes," he said. "The Southern Water Tribe stands at the edge of division. Their people are not united in their stance regarding the Empire. Some remain loyal and cooperative, but others have begun to speak against our rule. If left unchecked, this rift will only deepen."
A quiet murmur passed through the council as the elders exchanged glances, their expressions contemplative. Some whispered amongst themselves, while others remained silent, considering his words.
It was Mother Meilin, the master airbender overseeing the Eastern Point Temple, who spoke next. "And what does Pasang suggest? Has our Wind Envoy assessed the situation?"
Aang nodded. "I spoke with Pasang personally. He deferred judgment to his Wind Sentinels who have been stationed there. After much discussion, they concluded that a heightened presence is necessary. Additional forces will be deployed to ensure that the unrest does not escalate into rebellion."
Several council members nodded in agreement, their approval evident, but another elder, an older man named Elder Rohan, frowned slightly. "If the people are already disgruntled, then surely increased visibility will only fuel their resentment. Should we not consider additional surveillance before making our presence more overt?"
Aang remained calm as he responded. "That is already part of the Sentinels' plan. While our forces will be increased, we will not move carelessly. Skilled airbenders will be tasked specifically with monitoring the situation and ensuring that we do not act too late. Any signs of treason or organized defiance will be handled before they take root."
A heavy silence fell over the chamber as the elders absorbed his words. The matter of governance, particularly over conquered territories, was always delicate, but Aang's authority was absolute. At last, Elder Tenzin nodded slowly. "Then we must trust in your guidance, Avatar Aang. We have flourished under your guidance and input so far, so we will act within your reasoning."
A brief lull settled over the chamber as the council members sipped their tea, the hushed murmurs of discussion fading into the ambient rustling of leaves. Aang allowed the silence to linger for a moment before he finally spoke again.
"There is another matter I wish to bring to your attention," he said, his voice measured and composed. "During my time at the Southern Air Temple base, I made the decision to bring back a captive from the Southern Water Tribe."
A ripple of surprise passed through the council. A few members exchanged glances, while others regarded Aang with newfound curiosity. Elder Sonam, an aged but sharp-witted man with piercing gray eyes, was the first to speak.
"A captive?" Sonam repeated, his brows raising slightly. "One taken by a Wind Sentinel? I believe we all stand in agreement on how such matters are handled. Why did you choose to bring this particular woman here?"
Aang met the elder's gaze evenly, already prepared for this question. "I observed her during my visit to the temple. She is not an ordinary captive. Unlike most, she resisted not only in body but in spirit. She has an unusual ability to influence those around her, even among her fellow prisoners. There were multiple attempts at escape during her stay, all linked to her in some way. Left unchecked, she could have caused greater instability at the temple."
He let his words settle before continuing. "However, here in Zephyros, she is no threat. She is surrounded by airbenders—many of whom are masters. There is no possibility of escape, no allies to encourage her defiance. But more importantly, I believe she can be useful to us."
The murmuring resumed, this time with a tone of intrigue rather than doubt. Mother Meilin leaned forward slightly, interest gleaming in her eyes. "Useful in what way, Avatar Aang?"
Aang folded his hands together, his expression calm. "Her presence provides us with an opportunity. We have long understood how to subdue resistance, but what do we truly know of the minds of those who defy us? By studying her, by learning how she thinks, we can develop strategies that go beyond mere force. She is an unpolished stone—one that, if examined closely, could provide us with the means to prevent future unrest before it even begins."
Silence followed his words. Then, slowly, a murmur of approval swept through the council. Some nodded thoughtfully, while others exchanged knowing glances. Elder Rohan, a man known for his pragmatism, gave a small chuckle. "A clever approach, Avatar. To learn from our enemies before they can act against us. It is an interesting prospect."
Another elder, Jampa, folded his hands and inclined his head. "Indeed. Your foresight continues to serve the Empire well."
Aang accepted their praise with a composed nod, though inwardly, he knew the truth was far more complicated. He hadn't brought Kima here simply as a subject to study. That had only been the explanation he had crafted—the reasoning that would satisfy the council. The real reason... even he wasn't entirely sure of it yet. But for now, they had accepted his words, and that was all that mattered.
As the discussion over the Southern Water Tribe reached a natural pause, the conversation shifted toward the Fire Nation. One of the council members, a middle-aged man with sharp eyes and an air of quiet authority, cleared his throat and addressed the room.
"Now, regarding the Fire Nation," he began, folding his hands atop the table. "I've been in steady communication with our Wind Envoy stationed there. She reports that Fire Lord Iroh has remained mostly agreeable and cooperative with our presence. There have been no significant disruptions to our arrangements, and by all accounts, he has taken great care to avoid conflict with us."
There were murmurs of approval among the elders, though some simply nodded, their expressions unreadable. Aang listened intently, expression calm but focused.
The council member continued. "Additionally, the reports from our Wind Sentinels stationed in the region, as well as the Air Nomads who have chosen to settle within Fire Nation territory, have been overwhelmingly positive. The integration efforts are going well, and the school established to educate young Fire Nation children on the principles of the Air Empire has so far been a success."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the room before he added, "That said, there have been some dissenters among the Fire Nation citizenry—those who oppose the school's teachings and refuse to accept our influence within their lands."
At this, the murmurs grew heavier, a few elders exchanging knowing glances. "And how was this handled?" asked the female council member who had spoken earlier, her voice calm but firm.
"Swiftly and efficiently," the delegator assured her. "Those who opposed the teachings were dealt with before their resistance could spread. The situation is under control."
Aang gave a slow, thoughtful nod. He had expected as much. The Fire Nation had always been a proud people, even after their downfall, but pride alone could not stand against the sheer force of the Air Empire. He would have to ensure that the success in the Fire Nation continued to grow—opposition was always a threat, no matter how small.
"Good," another elder finally said, adjusting the beads draped around his shoulders. "This is how it should be. The Fire Nation is resilient, but in time, they will fully accept our guidance. As long as Iroh remains cooperative, we will not have to resort to more... drastic measures."
Aang remained silent for a moment, his thoughts shifting. Iroh had always been an enigma—unlike his predecessors, he had shown little resistance to the Air Empire's influence. Whether this was wisdom or submission, Aang could not yet say. But for now, the Fire Nation remained stable, and that was all that mattered.
As the discussion over the Fire Nation settled, the focus shifted toward the Earth Kingdom. One of the council members, a stern-looking man with a weathered face, leaned forward slightly. "There have been reports of new rebel groups forming in the Earth Kingdom. Small, scattered for now, but they are growing bolder. The Wind Sentinels stationed there are currently handling the situation, but it may require additional oversight."
A few murmurs of concern rippled through the council. Another elder, an older woman with sharp eyes, nodded. "We must ensure these insurgents do not gain traction. The Earth Kingdom is vast; if rebellion festers, it will spread like wildfire."
"Agreed," said a younger council member. "We should arrange a meeting with all the Wind Envoys soon. It would be wise to coordinate directly with the heads of the various Wind Sentinel factions to ensure our approach remains unified. Besides, we must begin preparations for the upcoming festival. All Air Nomads are obliged to attend, regardless of where they currently reside. That includes those who have chosen to live outside of Zephyros."
At this, a slight tension filled the room. A different elder cleared his throat before speaking. "That brings us to another matter—our people leaving the city. More and more airbenders have chosen to settle in other parts of the world, particularly in the Fire Nation. While we have ensured their continued allegiance, this pattern is concerning. Zephyros is the heart of our people, the center of our strength. If too many leave, what does that mean for the future of our culture?"
Aang listened carefully, his expression unreadable. He knew this was a delicate topic, one that had been quietly simmering among the council members for some time. While the Air Empire had flourished, the idea of airbenders dispersing too far beyond Zephyros' influence was troubling to those who saw the city as the core of their civilization.
The murmurs of agreement among the elders confirmed that this concern would not be easily dismissed.
As the discussion continued, Aang found himself slipping into a memory.
He was thirteen, standing at the edge of a quiet courtyard, the moon casting pale light over the stone pathways. The city was asleep, but he was not alone. A small flying lemur flitted away into the night after delivering its message, and Aang turned toward the shadowy figure approaching him.
"You actually came," the boy whispered, stepping forward.
Aang's lips curved into a small smile, though his chest felt tight. "Of course I did. You sent a lemur just to see me, after all."
His friend, a lanky boy named Fen, chuckled softly, but there was something strained in the sound. The two had hardly seen each other in recent months—Aang's training had intensified, pulling him further away from his peers. The elders had made sure of it. He wasn't just another airbender anymore; he was the Avatar, and that had set him apart in ways he hadn't fully understood until now.
"How've you been? I don't see you anymore." "I know," Aang replied sadly. "They've been teaching me a lot of stuff, y'know." Fen smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I guess that's what comes with being the Avatar." Aang stretched, allowing the tension to leave his body before he enquired on his friend. "What about you? Why'd you want to see me?"
Fen hesitated before speaking. "I have something important to tell you. I wanted to tell you in person because I don't trust sending it in a letter, in case someone else saw it somehow." He glanced around as though expecting someone to jump out of nowhere. He took a breath. "I'm leaving Zephyros."
Aang's stomach dropped. "What?"
Fen exhaled slowly, staring out at the city's glowing lanterns. "I've thought about it for a long time. I don't belong here, not really anyway."
"That's not true," Aang said quickly. "You're an airbender. You belong here more than anywhere."
Fen shook his head. "You don't get it."
Aang took a step closer. "Then make me get it."
Fen let out a slow breath. " I might never become a master. You know I'm not as good as the others. I've gotten better since the last time you've seen me actually airbend, but I'm still behind a lot of the other guys."
"That doesn't matter—"
"It does," Fen interrupted. "Not being a master isn't the problem. I know most airbenders don't master it until adulthood. But I don't just feel behind, Aang. I feel… out of place. I might never become a master—I'm not as skilled as the others."
Aang frowned, stepping closer. "You still have time Fen. You shouldn't let that bother you."
The boy smiled, but it was bittersweet. "I know. But it's not just that. The city is just too much. It never really felt like home to me. Even if I did become a master I probably would've still left. I'm not happy here."
Aang's voice was quiet when he asked, "Where will you go?"
The boy hesitated before answering. "The Fire Nation."
Aang's breath caught in his throat. The Fire Nation? Why would he want to go live in what was considered a highly antagonistic state to the Empire? Even now, with the increased presence of airbender offense groups, the Fire Nation was dangerous for air nomads.
"There's a group there," Fen continued. "They take in all kinds of people. Fighters, acrobats, performers. They don't care where you're from, as long as you can hold your own. I know I'd be good at that, Aang."
Aang shook his head. "But the Fire Nation? It's dangerous to go there alone."
"I'll be fine."
Aang didn't answer right away. His mind raced.
He had always known Fen struggled, but he had never thought it would come to this. Leaving Zephyros? Leaving their people? It wasn't just a choice—it was a rejection of everything they had been raised to believe.
"Just… wait," Aang pleaded. "I'm leaving soon too, remember? To train. I won't even be here much longer."
Fen gave him a small, sad smile. "I know. And I'm proud of you." He rested a hand on Aang's shoulder. "You're going to be an amazing Avatar."
Aang grabbed his wrist. "Then stay. Just a little longer."
Fen gently pulled away. "I can't. If I wait any longer, I might lose my chance."
Aang clenched his jaw. He didn't know what to say, what to do to make him stay. He had spent his life being told that Zephyros was everything—his home, his duty, his purpose. But now, here was someone willing to leave it behind. Someone willing to abandon it for something unknown.
His friend smiled at him, sadness in his eyes. "You're going to be an amazing Avatar, Aang. I'm proud of you."
The boy pulled him into a tight embrace, and Aang fought against the sting of tears. The warmth of the hug lingered even as his friend stepped back, pressing something gently into Aang's hand—a small wind chime, no bigger than his palm.
Then, before Aang could say another word, the boy leaned in and pressed a light kiss to his cheek. " Bye, Aang. I'm going to miss you a lot. Look for me whenever you get the chance."
And then, just like that, he was gone.
Aang blinked back into the present, the weight of the memory settling heavily in his chest. The council was still deep in discussion, their voices carrying through the grand hall.
"Perhaps it is time we consider deploying the Skyhunters," one of the elders suggested. "They are the most skilled among our ranks, trained to track and retrieve those who have strayed too far from the Empire's ideals. If we wait too long, we risk losing them entirely."
Aang sat up slightly, his expression unreadable as he finally spoke. "Such measures should only be implemented in crisis situations. A few airbenders choosing to live outside the city is not a cause for alarm. On my visits to our strongholds, they have maintained their loyalty."
Some of the council members exchanged wary glances. "It is not just a few, Avatar," another elder countered. "The numbers are growing, and that is not safe."
Aang didn't respond immediately, his gaze drifting slightly as he considered their words. He knew the council saw the dispersal of their people as a weakness, but in that moment, he found himself wondering something else entirely.
Maybe it's not that they feel safer outside the city. Maybe it's that the city itself isn't safe for them.
...
Kima stirred awake sometime after Aang had left, still feeling a little off but mostly back to normal. She stretched slightly before freshening up, splashing cool water on her face in an effort to shake off the lingering grogginess.
Not long after, Linh entered her quarters, offering a polite smile. "Good morning. I was told to check on you. If you're feeling well enough, breakfast has been set in the garden."
Kima hesitated for only a moment before nodding. "That sounds... nice."
Linh led her outside, where a modest but well-prepared meal awaited. The morning air was crisp, carrying the scent of flowers and fresh earth. Kima settled onto the cushioned seat as Linh remained standing nearby.
After a moment, Linh spoke again. "I was also given instructions to show you around the property if you would like to see more of it. I can answer any questions you may have as well."
Kima looked at her for a beat before nodding. "I think I'd like that."
She kept her tone neutral, but inwardly, the decision had a deeper purpose. She needed to see more of this place—not out of curiosity, but out of necessity. Knowing the layout of the house, the paths, and the exits would help her if the opportunity to escape ever presented itself.
She kept that thought to herself as she continued her meal, her mind already working through the possibilities.
Kima finished her breakfast in silence, taking in the peaceful surroundings of the private garden. It was lush, filled with tall flowering plants, delicate wind chimes swaying in the gentle breeze, and carefully maintained pathways that wound around small water features. The atmosphere was tranquil, designed for reflection and quiet conversation.
Once she was done, Linh gestured for her to follow. "I'll show you the rest of the property now. The Avatar has given permission for you to explore freely—except for a few restricted areas."
Kima nodded, pretending not to care, though in reality, she was eager to learn the layout. The better she understood her surroundings, the easier it would be to plan an escape if the opportunity arose.
They moved through the expansive courtyard, a space designed for meditation and practice. The smooth stone flooring was lined with intricate carvings depicting airbending philosophies, and at its center stood a large wind altar where Aang could sit in silence, attuned to the world around him.
Next, Linh led her toward the large stable where Appa resided when Aang was in the city. The enclosure was enormous, built to accommodate the sky bison's massive form, with soft bedding and a feeding area stocked with hay and fruit. "This is where Appa stays," Linh explained. "He's quite gentle, despite his size."
They continued their tour, passing the attendants' quarters—a set of modest but comfortable rooms where Aang's personal staff resided. There was also a spacious hall where Aang hosted guests when necessary, adorned with high ceilings and open-air balconies that overlooked Zephyros.
At one point, Kima asked, "Where is Aang now?"
Linh glanced at her. "He has a meeting with the Council."
"Does he do that often?"
"Yes," Linh replied. "If he's not with the Council, he's at the Southern Point Temple, sitting in on airbending lessons, speaking to other leaders in the community, or honing his skills somewhere private. He's always busy."
Kima absorbed this information carefully, storing it away for later.
After the tour, Kima turned to Linh. "Could I have something to write with?"
Linh hesitated briefly before nodding. "Of course. I'll bring you parchment and ink."
Once back in her quarters, Kima sat down at the small desk and began writing, documenting everything she had learned so far—the layout of the house, the paths, the gardens, the restricted areas. Every detail mattered. This would help her keep track of information she might need later. If she was ever going to escape, she needed to be prepared.
When she finished, she set the writing aside and sat on the bed, staring out the window. Her thoughts drifted to the Southern Water Tribe, to her home and her family.
Would I ever see them again?
Her heart tightened as she thought of the life she once knew. Her mind flashed to the faces of those she loved—her mother's gentle smile, Arrluk's laughter, Kota's wit. All of it felt so far away now, like a dream she couldn't quite hold onto. But then, as the memory of her family began to fade, a more immediate fear crept into her thoughts: Sena and Anik.
She'd been so absorbed in the newness of Zephyros, in the strange and unsettling world she now found herself in, that she hadn't given them much thought. But now, the dread hit her all at once. What had happened to them? After their detainment at the Southern Air Temple, were they still safe? Were they still alive?
The fear gnawed at her as she recalled the last time she'd seen them—being dragged away from the temple, separated, her heart breaking as she watched them disappear from her sight. And now she was here, in Zephyros, so far away, with no way to know if they were okay.
But the more Kima thought about it, the more a terrifying realization crept in.
They were safer back in the Southern Air Temple than she was here.
At least there, there was a sense of familiarity, of order. The monks, nuns, and Sentinels were familiar with the protocols, the rules. There was structure, even if it was harsh. But here, in Zephyros, Kima felt like she was in a living nightmare, constantly walking on the edge of a cliff with no one to catch her if she fell.
There was no telling what would happen to her here.
Her hand trembled as she picked up the parchment and ink again. She couldn't just sit here, feeling sorry for herself. She needed to stay sharp. To keep gathering information. To keep planning. But at the same time, she couldn't shake the gnawing worry about the fate of her friends back at the temple.
Kima set the quill down with a sigh. Her family might have been far away, but Sena and Anik—they were still part of her world, her past. She couldn't forget them. Not when she might be their only hope.
A/N: Hey, sorry this one took a while. I had a bit of an idea to change a few things in the older chapters, nothing major but it is taking a while and that's part of the reason why I haven't been able to update. But I wanted to bring some perspective on how Zephyros is from a less rose-tinted viewpoint. Because yes, there are airbenders that don't like living there and even more that run away like Aang's friend. Btw, I really wanted to highlight Aang's loyalty and his rose-tinted view of everything as a child compared to an adult. He does see that there's a problem, but he doesn't know for sure what it is, but all of that will be explored. Also, YES, Iroh exists in this timeline too; I made it that everyone was born earlier than in the original timeline, so Sozin would've had Azulon about sixteen years before he was killed, then Azulon would've had Iroh in his 20s, making it possible for him to be Fire Lord after Azulon died. I hope this makes sense lol I loved the idea of having Iroh and Aang interact at some point, so that's where we're going. Anyways, thanks for reading, see ya later!