It was just about midday the following day when the Southern Air Temple came into view. Aang, riding on Appa, descended toward the Air Temple, the wind rushing past them as they approached the grand structure nestled high in the mountains. The temple's familiar spires and terraces stood as a testament to the Air Nomads' enduring legacy. Aang felt a sense of purpose and calm as he neared the temple, his thoughts focused on the task ahead.
Appa gave a soft grunt as his large paws touched down on the stone courtyard in landing. Aang slid off his companion's back with practiced ease, his shoes landing lightly on the ground. The air here was crisp and clean, carrying with it the faint hum of wind chimes from the temple above. It was like home - everywhere was like home to him. But this air temple held a very special place in his heart.
As soon as he landed, the present monks, nuns and acolytes were already assembled in the courtyard waiting for him. They all fell to their knees in unison before him, their movements fluid and graceful. "Avatar Aang," Banzan greeted, his voice steady and warm, carrying a deep respect that resonated with the moment. "Welcome to our division's station and temple." They all stood then, with Banzan at the forefront of the group, his posture strong and unwavering, his hands clasped behind his back.
"Banzan," Aang replied with a smile, nodding toward him and the others. His gaze swept over the group, taking in the familiar faces and serene expressions. There was comfort in their presence, a reminder of the unity that bound the Air Nomads together.
Banzan stepped forward, his eyes meeting Aang's. "It's good to see you again, Avatar. Your presence here is always an honor."
"It's good to be back," Aang said sincerely. "It's been a while since I've been back here. I appreciate you making time for me."
"Of course. We live to serve you above all," Banzan said firmly, his loyalty evident in his tone. "Whatever you need, we're here to assist."
Aang gave a small nod of gratitude. "Thank you, Banzan. There's a lot happening in the Southern Water Tribe, and I need to discuss it with you and the other Sentinels."
"Of course," Banzan said, gesturing toward the temple entrance. "We've prepared a space for us to discuss. Shall we?"
Aang glanced back at Appa, giving his old friend a pat. "Wait here for me Appa. I'll be back soon," he said before turning to follow Banzan. "Someone will see about your bison while you are here. You," the Sentinel said to the acolytes, "feed and water him, and take him someplace shaded so he can rest."
The assembled monks and nuns parted respectfully as Aang walked forward, their heads still bowed in deference. The trust and harmony he felt here reminded him why the Air Empire had grown so strong, and why his role as Avatar was vital to guiding it.
As Aang walked through the temple's grand halls, the familiar sounds of fluttering banners and distant wind chimes echoed softly. The interior was much as he remembered it—ornate carvings depicting airbending philosophy and history adorned the walls, while the faint scent of incense lingered in the air.
Banzan walked a step behind Aang, his demeanor calm but attentive. The Avatar glanced at him as they ascended a staircase toward the council chamber.
"Have the Sentinels already gathered?" Aang asked, his tone conversational.
"Yes," Banzan replied. "They're eager just as I am to hear your thoughts on the situation in the Southern Water Tribe."
Aang nodded thoughtfully. "Good. It's been tense down there, and I want to make sure we're handling things the right way. The tribes have been steadfast allies of the empire, but recent events have me concerned. I need to understand what's happening on the ground."
Banzan's expression remained steady. "Of course, Avatar. The Sentinels are committed to preserving harmony and order within the Empire, and we'll follow your lead."
They reached the entrance to the council chamber, where two acolytes stood guard. They bowed deeply as Aang approached, opening the large wooden doors to reveal a spacious, circular room. The chamber was filled with natural light streaming through high windows, casting patterns on the polished stone floor.
Seated around the room were the Wind Sentinels stationed in the Southern Water Tribe, their distinctive robes marking them as leaders within the region. Each one rose and bowed as Aang entered, their expressions a mixture of respect and quiet determination.
"Thank you all for coming," Aang said, stepping into the center of the room. "I know you've been busy with your responsibilities, but I wanted to speak with you about the Southern Water Tribe. The reports I've been receiving are concerning, and I need to understand the full picture before we take further action. I've already spoken to Pasang, and he believes that this situation requires my direct help."
He paused, his gaze sweeping over the Sentinels. "The Southern Water Tribe has been a strong ally of the Air Empire for years, but there's a growing sense of unrest. It's not open resistance, but it's clear there are divisions forming. We need to address this before it escalates."
One of the Sentinels, a tall man with a calm yet focused expression, spoke up. "There are certainly signs of discontent among some of the population. We've observed small gatherings and discussions that suggest a shift in loyalty, but nothing organized yet. It's subtle, but it's there."
Aang folded his arms, his brow furrowing. "What do you think is driving this? Is it dissatisfaction with the empire, or something more specific?"
"It seems to stem from a mix of factors," Banzan interjected, his voice steady. "There are those who question the empire's presence, but many are simply wary of change. The Southern Water Tribe values its traditions deeply, and some view the integration as a threat to their way of life."
Aang nodded slowly, his mind racing. "We need to find a way to resolve this before it becomes a larger issue. The Southern Water Tribe's loyalty has been vital to the empire's stability. If divisions grow, it could ripple out to other regions."
There was a brief silence as the Sentinels exchanged glances. Finally, Banzan spoke again. "We've developed a plan to address the growing concerns. We'll start off with less aggressive measures. Increased engagement with the community, support for their cultural practices, and more open dialogue with their leaders. But if the situation worsens, we may need to take stronger measures."
"I want to avoid that if possible," Aang said firmly, placing his hands on the table in front of him.
"Because of their stronger inclination to us so far, I'm of the opinion that they do deserve some of our respect for now. We can't afford to alienate them any further than they already are. If diplomacy can prevent further unrest, then that's the path we should take. I'll step in personally if it comes to that, but let's try your plan first."
The Sentinels bowed their heads in unison. "As you command, Avatar," Banzan said.
Aang exhaled quietly, the weight of the decision settling on his shoulders. The room was silent, save for the faint whistle of the wind outside. For all the strength of the Air Empire, there were still cracks in the foundation—cracks that only he could mend.
"Thank you," he said, his voice resolute. "Let's get to work."
After the meeting, Aang stood in the temple's courtyard, gazing out over the mountains. The crisp air carried the faintest scent of pine, mingling with the cool breeze. Banzan approached him, bowing slightly before speaking.
"Avatar, I've arranged for your quarters to be prepared. It's the chamber reserved for you in the eastern wing, overlooking the valley."
Aang turned to him, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Thank you, Banzan. I think I'll stay for a few days. It's been a long time since I've been here, and I'd like to reacquaint myself with the temple."
Banzan inclined his head. "Of course, Avatar. Would you like me to show you around? Some parts of the temple have changed since your last visit."
"I'd like that," Aang replied. "Lead the way."
They began their tour in the lower halls, where the temple's young acolytes practiced their forms in spacious training rooms. Aang watched them for a moment, a flicker of nostalgia crossing his face. "It's good to see so many acolytes here. The temples weren't always this full."
"The Air Empire's growth has brought many to the temples," Banzan explained. "The younger generation is eager to learn and serve. We've expanded the dormitories and training facilities to accommodate them."
They continued through the library, where rows of ancient scrolls and newly penned manuscripts filled towering shelves. Aang ran his fingers along the spines of a few, noting the careful preservation of Air Nomad history alongside records of the empire's achievements.
"The library has grown," he remarked. "It's impressive."
"Our scholars have been diligent," Banzan said. "We've made it a priority to preserve knowledge while documenting the present. It's a balance we strive to maintain."
Finally, they reached the eastern wing. Banzan gestured to a set of double doors adorned with intricate carvings of swirling winds. "These are your quarters, Avatar. Everything has been prepared for your stay."
Aang pushed the doors open to reveal a spacious room bathed in natural light. A low bed with simple yet elegant bedding sat near a large window that offered a breathtaking view of the valley below. A small table held a tea set, and a shelf lined with books and scrolls occupied one wall.
"Thank you, Banzan," Aang said, stepping inside. "This is perfect."
"If you need anything, Avatar, you have only to ask," Banzan said, bowing once more before departing.
Left alone, Aang sat by the window, gazing out at the endless expanse of sky and mountains. The temple was different, yet it still felt like home—a reminder of who he was and the path he had been born to walk.
Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply and allowed himself to drift off mentally. In quiet times like this, he liked to think about the world. Funny, yes, the Avatar thinking about the world - when was he not? The Empire was growing every day. Not just in terms of its reach, with the Fire Nation now being mostly under their control with a large number of air nomads currently residing there, but also their numbers have neared doubled in the last decade. More and more airbenders were having children, and that was a very good thing. He also liked the allowance from the Council of Elders for a more intimately linked approach in immersing non-air nomads into their culture.
While Aang himself didn't have any children that he knew of, and at the moment he didn't find it conducive to have any of his own, he adored the children born to the Empire in any form. "Sometimes I do wish I had my own," he sighed wistfully, knowing that it was nothing more than wishful thinking. His status as the Avatar had him too busy, too occupied, too exhausted. He was only twenty-seven, almost twenty-eight, but he felt three times his age already.
The weight of his thoughts lulled him into a light doze, his head resting back against the chair. The soft hum of the wind outside the window and the warm afternoon light seemed to cradle him into sleep.
This impromptu nap bore a vivid and frightful dream to him.
In his dream, Aang was a child again, no older than twelve, standing in the middle of a battlefield. Smoke and ash filled the air, and the oppressive heat of a Fire Nation raid pressed against his skin. The young Aang looked down at his hands, which were glowing with the fierce energy of the Avatar State.
Around him, Fire Nation soldiers froze in place, their expressions shifting from grim determination to sheer terror as they recognized the power before them. "It's the Avatar!" one of them cried, stumbling back. Another dropped his weapon, his face pale with fear.
They turned to run, but the Avatar State consumed Aang, overriding his childlike innocence with something far more ancient and unrelenting. His eyes and tattoos blazed with white light, his expression abysmal as it was deadly as he glared down at the soldiers. With a vicious roar that expelled flames from his mouth and with a sweep of his arm, a blade of air sliced through the battlefield.
The soldiers screamed as the airbending strike hit its mark. The sheer force of it was precise and devastating. Aang's glowing eyes watched as the soldiers were cleaved apart, their bodies falling in two clean halves to the ground. Blood pooled around him, staining the dirt as the cries of the wounded faded into silence.
Then, the glow left him, and the light in Aang's eyes dimmed as his young self looked around at the carnage he had caused. His breathing was ragged, his small chest rising and falling as the ancient Avatar spirit receded, leaving only the boy in its wake.
The boy's eyes widened in horror as he stared at the lifeless forms scattered around him. His hands trembled, and he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.
"No…" Aang whispered, his voice breaking. "I didn't mean to… I didn't…"
Aang woke with a start, his heart pounding in his chest. His breathing was uneven, and for a moment, he wasn't sure where he was. The serene temple surroundings came back into focus, and the warm sunlight pouring through the window reminded him that it had only been a dream.
But the weight of it lingered. Aang ran a hand over his face, his skin clammy with sweat. The memory of the dream burned vividly in his mind, the glow of the Avatar State and the cries of the soldiers refusing to fade.
He sat in silence for a long time, staring out at the sky. For all the power he wielded, for all the responsibility he bore, the Avatar State was a constant reminder of what he was capable of—and what he feared the most. Obviously now as a fully realized Avatar he had mastered the Avatar State and everything that came with it. He was comfortable with using it, and really only had to use it in rare occasions recently.
So why have a nightmare about it now?
He wondered if it was the fact that he was back in a place that wasn't tainted by the knowledge of his identity as the Avatar. He sighed and crossed his arms, looking out the window once more. "I need to calm myself." Resolving to go and center himself, he quickly changed out of his robes into his much lighter wear, retrieved his meditation mat and walked out the room.
Aang stepped into the corridor, the soft hum of the temple's wind chimes following him as he walked. The air was crisp, carrying with it the faint aroma of incense from nearby shrines. He stopped an acolyte who was passing by, her hands full of scrolls.
"Excuse me," Aang said gently. "Could you tell me where Appa is being kept?"
The acolyte looked up at him, her face lighting with recognition. "Of course, Avatar Aang. Appa is resting in the eastern cavern. It's one of the quieter parts of the temple. I'll show you the way if you'd like."
Aang smiled and shook his head. "Thank you, but I'll find it. The eastern cavern, right?"
She nodded and bowed before continuing on her way.
Aang made his way toward the cavern, his steps light and deliberate. The eastern part of the temple was rarely frequented, tucked away from the busier sections. It had always been a favorite spot of his as a child—a place to escape when the pressures of training or the weight of expectations became too much.
The path became narrower as he approached the cavern, the air cooler and the light dimmer. A faint, familiar rumble reached his ears, and he smiled.
"Appa," Aang called softly as he stepped into the cavern.
The bison lifted his massive head from where he lay curled on the smooth stone floor. His wide mouth stretched in a lazy yawn before he let out a deep, resonant groan of recognition.
"Hey, buddy," Aang said warmly, walking over and placing a hand on Appa's shaggy fur. "You've got the best spot in the whole temple, don't you?"
Appa's tail thumped once, a slow and contented rhythm.
Aang set down his meditation mat near Appa's side, smoothing it out before lowering himself onto it. He leaned back briefly against Appa's warm side, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath.
"This place hasn't changed much," Aang murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Quiet, hidden… just like it used to be."
Appa rumbled softly, as if in agreement.
Aang shifted into a cross-legged position, resting his hands on his knees. He closed his eyes and began to focus on his breathing. Inhale… exhale… The steady rhythm began to slow his racing thoughts, grounding him in the present.
The memories of the dream still flickered at the edges of his mind, but he didn't push them away. Instead, he allowed them to surface, observing them without judgment. The glow of the Avatar State, the terror in the soldiers' eyes, the finality of his actions—it was all part of him, a part he had to accept.
As he meditated, the sounds of the temple faded away. The faint rustle of wind through the cavern, the occasional groan from Appa, even the distant chimes—all became background to the quiet stillness within.
This was what he needed. To sit, to breathe, to remember who he was and why he carried the burden he did.
The Avatar was balance. And balance began with him.
Dinner was brought to Aang's quarters on a polished tray by a quiet, reverent acolyte. The meal was simple, as was the Air Nomad tradition: steamed vegetables, fresh fruit, and a small bowl of rice, paired with herbal tea. It was a far cry from the rich feasts of other nations, but it suited Aang's tastes perfectly.
He ate slowly, his mind drifting as he stared at the flickering candlelight on the table. The events of the day lingered in his thoughts—the discussions with the Sentinels, the unsettling dream, and the quiet comfort of being back in the temple after so many years. Yet, something nagged at the edge of his awareness, a sense of unease he couldn't quite shake.
When the meal was finished, he set the tray aside and rose to his feet. The walls of the room felt too close, the stillness oppressive. He needed air, movement—something to clear his head.
Stepping into the cool night, Aang let the breeze brush against his skin as he wandered the temple's winding paths. The familiar architecture soothed him, and he allowed his feet to guide him without direction. The temple was quiet now, most of its residents having retired for the evening. Only the occasional acolyte passed by, bowing respectfully before continuing on their way.
Aang's walk eventually took him to a part of the temple he didn't recognize—a newer addition, perhaps. The air here felt heavier, the energy of the space different from the rest of the temple. Curiosity stirred in him, and he stepped closer to the low, unassuming building nestled against the cliffside.
As he approached, he noticed that the windows were faintly illuminated by a soft, golden light. The muffled sound of voices reached his ears—women's voices, low and hesitant, speaking in tones that carried a mix of fear and quiet resolve.
Aang stopped in his tracks, his heart sinking as realization dawned. This must be where they were keeping their captives. He knew that the Wind Sentinels from all parts of the world tended to keep non-benders captive for coupling purposes. It was a fact that he had been aware of for years, but somehow in all his visits to the temples he never encountered any of the taken people before.
Moving closer, he peered through one of the windows. Inside, a group of women sat together, their faces weary but alert. They were dressed simply, their movements subdued as they spoke among themselves. Some clutched small tokens—bracelets, scraps of fabric—as though holding onto pieces of a life they'd been forced to leave behind.
Aang's breath caught in his throat. These women weren't prisoners of war or criminals; they were people. Individuals with stories, families, and lives that had been disrupted. The sight of them stirred something deep within him—an uncomfortable mix of anger, guilt, and sorrow.
He didn't dare linger long. The last thing he wanted was to frighten them or make them feel even more vulnerable. Quietly, he stepped back and turned away, his footsteps light as he retreated into the shadows.
As he walked back toward the main temple, his thoughts churned. He understood now, with painful clarity, what this was about. The Air Empire's need for growth, for strength, had led to practices that were deeply troubling. Aang had always believed in the empire's ideals, in its mission to bring balance and harmony to the world. But this...
This was something he would need to confront. Yes, he believed wholeheartedly that maybe some of these women were actually living better now than they were before. And they were a huge asset to the Empire, and while he never had much of an opinion on this specific matter, physically seeing women who would have been snatched from their homes and families gave him an odd feeling in his stomach.
It shouldn't bother me. It's what's necessary.
But it did bother him, and he couldn't say why. That was the most frustrating part.
By the time he returned to his quarters, his mind was made up. Tomorrow, he would have to speak with Banzan. There were questions that needed answering—and changes that needed to be made.
A/N: Hi, so I'm going to be doing a lot of exposition/flashbacks from this point on (hope that's not annoying), but they give a lot of context I won't be able to write out. I want to explore Aang's feelings about the Air Empire and what they're doing when it comes to people from other nations because it's honestly pretty complex, as you'll see as the story goes on. But thanks again for reading, wow I didn't expect this many people to be interested tbh, but don't be scared to leave a review or anything, I love talking to you guys :)