Five days came and went in a blur. Five days since Kima had been taken, and with each day things did not get easier. Despite what Sena had told her, she just couldn't get used to it. This whole thing about being spirited away from her home, brought to this strange place and now being told to learn these strange things just didn't add up to her. While the airbenders present at the temple didn't bother them, their presence was still there, still quietly overbearing.
At night she'd be up listening to the sounds of the temple. Save for the occasional groan of a sky bison, the rustling of the nuns' robes as they did...whatever it was they were doing at night, and the ever constant whistle of the wind, it was quiet. If this had been any other situation she might have appreciated the peace, as it did allow her the space to think.
But this situation wasn't favorable. In fact, Kima found herself longing for the noise of the water tribe, the sounds of chatter, debates, laughter, children squealing. She missed the animals, even the more pesty species. She wasn't a waterbender, but when she'd look at the moon, she would feel a pang in her heart. A deep, yawning hole that could only be filled by the familiarity of her people, her tribe.
She's learned a bit from the other women. They had, by all appearances, accepted this fate and knew how to act. Kima came to find out that, just as Sena had explained, they were free to choose what they wanted to do as far as temple duties. She was most comfortable in the kitchen, though the ingredients weren't what she was used to. Airbenders being primarily vegetarian and therefore their meals being based on that was something Kima did not think would grow on her. She was raised on different meats available in the south pole, and she found herself reminiscing about the homemade dishes she and her mother would prepare.
Then there was the air acolytes. They were by far the most confusing piece in this puzzle. According to Sena, they were also non-air nomad non-benders, both men and women, but unlike them they had chosen to serve the Air Empire willingly. They too were immersed in the culture and teachings of those people, and, much to Kima's shock, they genuinely seemed happy to be followers of air. She couldn't begin to imagine what spirit would possess someone to choose to leave their home and go to an air temple to become an acolyte. They were mostly quiet around the captives but were nice and polite enough, always smiling and offering their assistance.
Kima decided that she didn't trust them. Anyone that would side with the Air Empire to this degree had to be either crazy or stupid - or both. She didn't see much of the Wind Sentinels, except for one moment briefly when she, Sena and Anik, the first woman that had spoken to her when she had arrived, had been wandering around and ended up on the other side of the temple. There, in a spacious courtyard lined with trees they all sat in deep meditation, led by a monk who looked to be as old as time.
It was the first time she'd seen the typically armored men in regular clothes (well regular by Air Nomad standards), and she found the variety of clothes within the culture oddly fascinating. "They've got an outfit for everything," she had whispered to the others, earning an amused smiles from the other women. They weren't able to stay long and observe though, as evidently they weren't even supposed to be on that side of the temple. But the image stayed in her mind long after, and with it came a question:
How are they able to do it? Be so at peace with themselves that even in the midst of mass occupation and coercion, they didn't crack or waver. The appearance of detachment from their own actions was, in her mind, scarier than anything else they could ever do.
...
The sound of footsteps echoed through the stone hallways, soft yet purposeful. Kima, having separated from Sena for a brief moment, barely registered the shift in the atmosphere before she looked up and saw him again. The same wind-bender from before—the one who had taken her away from everything she knew. His presence was like a gust of wind: silent, but always there, impossible to ignore. His gaze softened as he approached, a slight, almost apologetic smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.
"How are you settling in, Kima?" he asked, his voice smooth, calm, as though the past days had never happened.
She stiffened, her muscles tensing involuntarily at the sound of his voice. "I'm fine," she muttered, her words clipped. She didn't want to engage with him. She didn't want to hear him, didn't want to feel the lingering touch of his airbending on her skin. It felt too wrong. Too much.
His smile didn't fade. "I'm glad to hear it." He took a step closer, and she instinctively took a step back. His eyes seemed to trace her every movement, watching her carefully, as though waiting for something. "I know it's not easy, Kima. But you're safe here. And in time, you'll understand the importance of what we're doing."
She couldn't stop the bitter laugh that bubbled up in her throat. "Safe? You call this safe? You took me from my home!" Her voice was barely a whisper, but it was enough for him to hear. The words tasted like ash in her mouth. She wanted to shout, to demand answers, but she kept her composure. She had learned to do that over the past few days.
He didn't seem bothered by her words. If anything, his expression softened further, as if he understood her resentment in a way she couldn't quite fathom. "I understand your anger," he said gently, stepping even closer. His proximity made her skin crawl, but she forced herself not to flinch. "But there's more at play here than you can see right now. You will come to see the wisdom in what's being done. In time, it will make sense."
Kima's heart raced. She didn't trust him, not for a second. "What do you want from me?" she demanded, her voice shaky but determined.
He tilted his head, as if considering her words carefully. His gaze was unnervingly patient. "It's not about what I want, Kima," he said, his voice low and soothing. "It's about what's best for everyone."
Her brow furrowed in confusion, and she took another step back, trying to put distance between them. "I don't understand."
He smiled again, this time with a hint of something unreadable in his eyes. "You will," he murmured. "Sooner or later, you will understand your purpose here."
Kima's stomach twisted, a chill crawling up her spine. There was something in his tone that made her blood run cold. He didn't have to say the words for her to know. The way he looked at her now—almost reverently, like she was a prized possession—sent a sickening wave of dread crashing over her.
His hand, warm but firm, reached out and gently cupped her arm, as though offering reassurance. "In time, you'll come to see the role you will play in the future of the Air Empire. We need those who can help secure that future. And you, Kima... you'll help build that foundation."
His words were soft, but the meaning behind them was undeniable. Her stomach lurched, and her heart sank into a pit of cold despair. She knew exactly what he meant.
And she hated it.
After dinner was served, the women returned to their dormitories. Kima filed in quietly, appearing dazed, but inside, she was panicking. What the Wind Sentinel has implied about them needing the women to 'build a future' had her stomach in knots.
She needed to talk to someone about this because it made no sense to her. Why would the airbenders need women from other nations to do...that? She felt like she would get sick with worry, and she just needed some clarification on it. Maybe she was overthinking it, and he meant something else entirely.
She sat on her bed roll, nervously observing the others. They were all going about their night routine, some quietly talking, some brushing their hair, some doing nothing but staring at the ceiling.
Which group will I end up in? Will I eventually get used to this and act like it's normal? Or will I essentially become a zombie?
Neither option was appealing to her. She had to get out of here, no matter what. Just then, Sena appeared on her roll, startling her slightly. "Oh! Sorry, you were really deep in thought, and I didn't want to disturb you," she apologized with an awkward smile. Kima recovered and assured her it was okay.
"I just have a lot on my mind. "
"I know. It's okay. It does get easier after a while." The two fell quietly for a while, the only sounds being the soft voices and rustles from the other women. Kima fidgeted, wondering how to broach the subject.
"So, how long have you been here?"
Sena paused, seemed to count in her head, and then replied. "Oh, almost a year." "A whole year?" Kima almost shouted but stopped herself in time.
"Yeah, almost. Most of us have been here that long or longer," the water tribe girl stated matter-of- factly, lying on her stomach. "And no one's tried to get out?" She found it hard to believe anyone would willingly stay here that long without at least attempting to find some way out.
"I mean, peoplehavetried...it doesn't work out, though. There's no safe way off this mountain without a sky bison, and it's not like the airbenders would let us just take one." Sena then made a face that was a mixture of concern and confusion. "Also, I don't know if you know this, but they have this weird technique that could make you feel really weak and sedated. Like, you're not even in your own body. So you won't be able to fight or even want to, really."
Kima remembered what happened when she had been taken, the way her body felt sluggish, and she couldn't fight back, and it clicked in her head. "Oh! That's what he did to me when he took me." She was saying it more to herself, but her new friend still heard and nodded in agreement.
"Yup, that's one of the ways they keep us in line. They have a lot of other techniques, too. Really scary stuff..." Kima watched her shudder, wrapping her arms around herself. "Airbenders are scary. But at least being here we know what to always expect."
Kima nodded, agreeing that airbenders were indeed scary, which is why she couldn't stay there. It brought up the other question she had, too, so she decided to go for it. "Since you've been here for a while, have you ever seen any of the airbenders be...weird, with the women?"
Sena hesitated for a moment, her expression unreadable. Then, she slowly sat up and looked at Kima, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "You mean... like weirder than usual? Yeah. They don't hide it. They don't have to. They don't care if we see or know. It's part of the whole... system here."
Kima felt her heart drop. Her stomach twisted in knots, the feeling of dread growing. She knew exactly what Sena meant, and she hated the confirmation of her fears.
"Do they... try to make you do things?" Kima's voice was barely above a whisper, her throat tightening as she spoke.
Sena's face softened, her eyes filled with sympathy. "They don't force us to do anything... not right away. But, it's expected. They don't need to use force when they have the control they do. They want us to want to do it. You know? We're supposed to be... compliant. But there's always that unspoken pressure."
Kima felt the air in the room grow heavy, like it was suffocating her. She couldn't breathe. The words from the Wind Sentinel echoed in her mind:
"You'll help us build a future. "The promise of a future, of some purpose for her, twisted in a way that felt wrong, twisted in a way she couldn't yet understand but could feel deep in her gut.
"What do you mean, 'compliant'?" Kima asked, trying to push past the rising fear, trying to find clarity in the confusion. "How do you... how do you get used to it?"
Sena looked down, her fingers nervously playing with the edge of her blanket. "You don't really get used to it. You just... do what they want, and then you try not to think about the rest. You keep your head down, keep your mouth shut, and try to keep the worst from happening. The others... they've learned to accept it. They try to make the best of it."
Kima's breath hitched. She was so terrified of the idea, but the words Sena spoke were starting to settle in her chest, weighing her down like a boulder.
"And... the airbenders? They just do it? Take what they want and then..." Kima's words faltered as she tried to find the right way to ask the question without it sounding too accusatory.
Sena hesitated before shaking her head slowly. "Not all of them are like that to be honest, but some are. They'll get what they want... and they make sure you understand that you don't have a choice in the matter. If you try to resist, you won't last long here." She swallowed, and Kima saw the vulnerability in her eyes, the same vulnerability Kima herself felt. "I don't know if that helps, but that's the truth of it. You have to accept that you're not going to leave until they're done with you."
The weight of those words crushed Kima's chest, and she felt like she might suffocate from it. How could she ever accept this? How could she just let herself fall into this life, become part of their system, like everyone else here?
"I don't want to be part of this system," Kima muttered to herself, barely able to get the words out. "I can't just... accept it."
Sena's face softened with sympathy, and she reached over, placing a hand on Kima's shoulder. "I know, Kima. I know you don't want to. None of us do. But here, we don't have much choice. You just have to find a way to survive it. You're not alone. I'm here for you, and I'll help you get through it. I promise."
Kima's eyes burned with unshed tears, but she fought them back. She wasn't going to break down—not yet. Not here. But the thought of her future, trapped in this place with no escape, weighed too heavily on her. The airbenders had made sure of that. They'd made it clear that escape was impossible, and now, Kima realized just how much they had her in their grasp.
She sat there in silence for a while, the words she needed to say stuck in her throat. She couldn't let this be her life. But what else was there?
The night drew on. While most of the others fell asleep relatively quickly, Kima was wide awake. She couldn't sleep. Not when she now knew she had been brought here to essentially be a whore of the Sentinels. Now she knew why they targeted non-benders specifically, why they took them from their homes and brought them to the temples that were bursting with the spirit of air. Why they were insistent on teaching their culture. They were trying to ensure that any child born from this twisted design would be an airbender.
She'd lost track of how many times she cried since being here. The tears were basically an oasis, a river not unlike the one back home.
Home. She missed it terribly. She missed her Mom. She misses Arrluk. She missed Kota. She curled up on her side, allowing the tears to flow freely. Why. Why her? What had she done to deserve such a fate?
The night dragged on in a cruel stretch of endless thoughts. Kima lay there in the silence, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Her mind wouldn't stop racing, spiraling further and further into the nightmare she was trapped in. The idea that she could become a vessel for something that she could never escape haunted her. The very thought of bearing an airbender child made her skin crawl. She didn't want to bring another life into this cold, twisted place, regardless of their bending affiliation.
She couldn't shake the feeling of being nothing more than a tool in their grand plan, a cog in a machine that had already decided her future. They needed non-benders—women like her—because they were the only ones besides actual air nomad women who could most likely give birth to an airbender. She felt disgusted by the idea that her body might be the means for the Air Empire to grow its ranks. To think that, one day, she might be forced to carry the child of one of those men, a child who would grow up in this twisted system, just like them, made her want to scream. But no sound escaped her lips, only the quiet sobs that wracked her body.
She buried her face into the pillow, trying to muffle her cries. This isn't my life she thought, This can't be my life. But the more she thought about it, the more it felt like a sick reality that was already taking root in her soul.
She couldn't escape the truth, no matter how much she wished it weren't true. If they have children with us... and those children are airbenders...
She clenched her fists, tears staining her pillow. The thought made her sick, nauseous even. But what was worse was the feeling that, deep down, a part of her was starting to realize that she would one day have to accept it. She might have to give birth to an airbender. The idea of carrying a child of one of the Sentinels, or worse, of one of their commanders, made her skin crawl with revulsion.
And then, her mind drifted to her chief—the man who had sent her here in the first place. Sivak. He was supposed to protect her, protect the tribe. He was supposed to keep them safe from threats, to stand up to the Air Empire. Yet, he hadn't. He'd done nothing. Nothing to stop them from taking her.
Kima's thoughts turned bitter. How could he let this happen? How could he not have done anything when the Banzan came to their village the second time? She had been there, she had seen it all—how Bazan had paraded in, catching them off guard. How Sivak had spoken to him as though they were equals, as though the empire had some kind of right to their people that they should be allowed to constantly monitor them. The more she thought about it, the more she was siding with the likes of Koruk and his crew, who saw the manipulation and abuse of power.
What kind of leader lets his people be taken like that?
She curled tighter into herself, a lump of resentment growing in her throat.
The weight of the thought felt like a physical blow to her chest. Kima wanted to hate him for it. She wanted to scream at him for his weakness, for his failure. But there was a part of her that knew she would never be able to look at him the same way again. She'd been a pawn in his game too. He hadn't protected her. He hadn't protected anyone. He'd created a situation where she -or anyone else - could be taken, and now, she was here, trapped, forced to live a life she couldn't even imagine.
A sob tore from her throat, and she bit her lip, trying to hold it back. She couldn't cry anymore. Not for him, not for herself. But the tears wouldn't stop, and they fell freely down her cheeks, pooling on the pillow beneath her.
Her thoughts drifted back to the Banzan. The one who had taken her. The one who had spoken so gently to her, so carefully. His kindness had been a mask, hiding the true horror beneath it. He had been so calm, so controlled, so sure that she would accept what was coming. The thought sickened her.
But Kima refused to give in. She would not let herself become a tool of the empire, no matter what. She couldn't. She wouldn't.
But where could she go? How could she escape this place? The mountain was too high, the airbenders too powerful. She was trapped, with no way out.
No she thought fiercely, her hands clenched into fists. I will not give up. I will find a way out of here. I will not be their toy.
But for now, she lay there in the dark, the tears still falling, knowing that tomorrow would be another day of waiting, another day of pretending that this wasn't her life, another day of survival in a place that felt more like a prison than anything else.
A/N: Okay this chapter is long, but I needed to give a bit more context on what's happening with Kima and the others. Like I said before this is a very dark fic, and it includes some weird things like this, so if things like what's spoken about here makes you uncomfortable you don't need to read further. But if you're okay with it, then great! I'll be writing more on the Airbenders specifically in relation to the Empire in future chapters and I've already mapped out the general presence and disposition they have, so stay tuned for that!