The Wani cut through the icy waters, its black steel hull splitting the waves like a blade. The South Pole's endless white stretched beyond the horizon, untouched, unbroken.
Until now.
Zuko lowered his telescope, his golden eyes narrowing against the bitter cold.
He had been watching ever since the sky was torn apart by that unnatural beam of light. He knew it meant something—something important.
And now, he had proof.
A Fire Nation ship—an old wreck, abandoned decades ago—had sent up a flare.
Someone had been snooping around.
His grip on the telescope tightened as he locked onto the figures escaping the wreckage.
A boy in orange, impossibly light on his feet, soaring through the air. An Airbender.
A girl clinging to him, her blue parka flaring in the wind. A Waterbender.
Zuko's heart slammed against his ribs.
An Airbender? That wasn't possible. They were extinct. They had to be.
Unless…
His breath quickened, vapor curling in the frigid air.
Was it him?
His gaze followed them as they disappeared beyond a towering wall of ice, into a small, isolated village.
The Southern Water Tribe.
A slow, sharp smile curled on Zuko's lips.
For a year, he had scoured the Air Temples, turning over every stone, searching for something—anything.
Nothing.
The Northern Temple was the only one with any life, but even that had fallen under Fire Nation control. The others? Ghosts.
This was his second year of exile, and he had only just begun his search beyond the Air Temples.
And already, he had a lead.
His father had been wrong. He wasn't just "lucky to be born."
He had found the Avatar.
Or, at the very least, he had found someone who knew where the Avatar was.
Agni was on his side.
Zuko spun on his heel, his boots slamming against the deck as he strode toward the lower levels.
Inside, his uncle was lounging over a Pai Sho board, sipping tea as he played against one of the soldiers.
"Uncle," Zuko called, cutting into their match without hesitation. His voice burned with something close to triumph.
Iroh lifted his gaze lazily, moving a piece before looking up. "Yes, Prince Zuko?"
Zuko's words rushed out like fire.
"I've found them. An Airbender and a Waterbender—right after the burst of light. It has to be them!"
For a moment, Iroh studied him, his expression unreadable. But Zuko knew his uncle well. He was always thinking.
Finally, Iroh set down his tea with a quiet sigh.
"Have you found their base?" he asked, his voice even. "And… are you prepared to face the Avatar?"
Zuko stiffened.
Prepared?
He had trained relentlessly. He had sailed into frozen wastelands just to find a ghost. He had endured exile for two years—his honor stripped away, his name tainted.
Of course, he was prepared.
Still…
For just a fraction of a second, a whisper of doubt slithered through his mind.
His jaw tightened. No. This was it.
"I don't need preparation," he snapped. "I've waited two years for this."
Iroh hummed, shifting a game piece across the board.
"Patience, Prince Zuko," he said, his tone ever gentle. "The ocean does not rush to meet the shore—it carves it over time."
Zuko scowled. More of his uncle's riddles. He didn't have time for this.
But it didn't matter.
He was so close.
He would capture the Avatar.
And then—finally—he would go home.
Zuko would not waste this opportunity.
If he couldn't defeat the Avatar now, he would chase him down, exhaust him, break him, and drag him back to the Fire Nation himself.
His father would have no choice but to welcome him home.
Zuko strode across the deck, his voice sharp as steel. "Set course for the Southern Water Tribe!"
The navigator and shipmaster snapped to attention, moving without hesitation. The Wani lurched, its engines roaring as it veered toward its new target.
Zuko's fists clenched at his sides.
This was it.
No more temples filled with dust and ghosts. No more empty leads. The Avatar was here.
And he would not let him slip away.
--
Below Deck – The Crew's Whispered Doubts
As the ship surged forward, a quiet unease settled among the crew.
They had been exiled alongside Prince Zuko, a punishment masked as an "honorable mission." Everyone aboard knew the truth—Fire Lord Ozai didn't expect them to return.
For nearly two years, they had searched for a ghost, their exile disguised as a sacred duty.
And now? Now, they had found something.
"Did you hear what Prince Zuko said to General Iroh?"
A male soldier leaned in, whispering to a nearby female soldier.
She raised an eyebrow. "No… What did he say? More honor nonsense? Spirits, that kid's got to wake up and realize his father sent him on a wild Komodo-rhino chase."
The man shook his head. "No, not that—though he's probably ecstatic that he might actually get his honor back." His voice dropped lower. "He saw an Airbender."
The woman's expression stiffened.
She gestured with her hand across her throat in a cutting motion and whispered, "…Didn't we get rid of all of them?"
"That's what I thought!" The man's voice had an edge of unease. "But after that bright blue light, the next thing we see is an Airbender, in the South Pole, of all places?" He exhaled sharply. "This being a coincidence is basically a zero-percent chance. We've already found the Avatar."
He almost sounded giddy.
The woman sighed, shaking her head.
"Let's hope we did. Because honestly? Even though the prince is stuck-up, I'm not sure how much longer he can survive at sea."
The man nodded grimly. They all remembered.
The burn.
The bandages.
A year spent watching a boy wince every time his face caught the wind.
They had seen firsthand what Fire Lord Ozai was capable of.
And this was his son.
"His first opinion in the war room got him banished and burned," the woman muttered. "And he still wants to make his father proud?"
The man sighed, rubbing his temples. This was common talk aboard the Wani.
They had accepted exile under Zuko's command because it was better than dying on the front lines.
But if they found the Avatar?
What then?
Would Zuko's next mistake cost him his other eye?
Would he be cast aside again—or worse, be ordered to lead the charge on the Northern Water Tribe alone?
They weren't eager to find the Avatar.
It would mean returning to a ruler who burned his own son for defending soldiers like them.
And the only reason they had these doubts at all?
Because of General Iroh.
He had spoken to them, shared his thoughts about the war in quiet, careful words. He had planted the idea that this war wasn't necessary.
And it had grown.
Slowly.
Quietly.
Like embers waiting for the right moment to ignite.
Iroh was the least ready of all of them to find the Avatar.
For two years, he had watched his nephew chase ghosts across the world, following a dream planted by a father who had already thrown him away.
And now, it was no longer a ghost. It was real.
A part of him knew this day would come. But he had hoped for more time—more time to change Zuko, to guide him away from this path before he threw himself into a destiny that was never meant for him.
Because Iroh had already lost one son to this war.
He would not lose another.
He sighed deeply, running a calloused hand over his beard as he gazed into his tea. The steam curled upward, wispy, fleeting—just like peace had once been.
For most of his life, he had been a good son, a good general, a good prince. He had believed in the Fire Nation's strength, its right to expand. His father had spoken of destiny, and he had listened.
And then Lu Ten died.
And he saw the truth.
The war was never about prosperity. It was never about unity.
He had read the texts. He had studied the histories passed down through the royal family.
And he had seen it for what it was.
A conquest.
Sozin had looked at the world and decided that he alone had the right to shape it. He had not sought understanding—he had sought dominion.
The Air Nomads…
They had been a peaceful people, untethered from the material world. They lived in harmony, asking for nothing, taking only what was given. What could Sozin have offered them that would have made them willingly change their way of life?
Nothing.
The Water Tribes…
Their strength lay in community, in love, in adaptation. They embodied the ideals of water—they changed, but only on their own terms. Sozin could have introduced his vision peacefully, but instead, he had chosen to force it upon them, to shatter their way of life.
The Earth Kingdom…
It was a land of endurance, of stubborn resilience. Its people were as varied as the land itself. They had no single ruler because they didn't need one.
And yet, Sozin had thought he alone could make them bow.
It had been arrogance, blind and cruel.
Before the war, there had been freedom.
If a Waterbender had wished to live in the Fire Nation, they could. If an Earth Kingdom citizen had sought the Fire Lord's protection, they would have found it.
Sozin had taken that choice away.
This war had never been about sharing knowledge, about uniting the world.
It had been about power. About control.
And now, Iroh sat aboard a ship carrying his exiled nephew—the boy who was meant to be Fire Lord, but who had been thrown aside like a pawn in his father's game.
Zuko was still blind, still desperate to prove himself to a man who had already made his choice.
Iroh took a slow sip of his tea, feeling the warmth spread through his chest.
He could not stop this war alone.
But he had planted the seeds of doubt within the crew. They had begun to question. To think.
And if he could change them…
He could change Zuko.
And if he could change Zuko…
Then perhaps, one day, they could change the Fire Nation itself.
Iroh was the least ready of all of them to find the Avatar.
For two years, he had watched his nephew chase ghosts across the world, following a dream planted by a father who had already thrown him away.
And now, it was no longer a ghost. It was real.
A part of him knew this day would come. But he had hoped for more time—more time to change Zuko, to guide him away from this path before he threw himself into a destiny that was never meant for him.
Because Iroh had already lost one son to this war.
He would not lose another.
He sighed deeply, running a calloused hand over his beard as he gazed into his tea. The steam curled upward, wispy, fleeting—just like peace had once been.
For most of his life, he had been a good son, a good general, a good prince. He had believed in the Fire Nation's strength, its right to expand. His father had spoken of destiny, and he had listened.
And then Lu Ten died.
And he saw the truth.
The war was never about prosperity. It was never about unity.
He had read the texts. He had studied the histories passed down through the royal family.
And he had seen it for what it was.
A conquest.
Sozin had looked at the world and decided that he alone had the right to shape it. He had not sought understanding—he had sought dominion.
The Air Nomads…
They had been a peaceful people, untethered from the material world. They lived in harmony, asking for nothing, taking only what was given. What could Sozin have offered them that would have made them willingly change their way of life?
Nothing.
The Water Tribes…
Their strength lay in community, in love, in adaptation. They embodied the ideals of water—they changed, but only on their own terms. Sozin could have introduced his vision peacefully, but instead, he had chosen to force it upon them, to shatter their way of life.
The Earth Kingdom…
It was a land of endurance, of stubborn resilience. Its people were as varied as the land itself. They had no single ruler because they didn't need one.
And yet, Sozin had thought he alone could make them bow.
It had been arrogance, blind and cruel.
Before the war, there had been freedom.
If a Waterbender had wished to live in the Fire Nation, they could. If an Earth Kingdom citizen had sought the Fire Lord's protection, they would have found it.
Sozin had taken that choice away.
This war had never been about sharing knowledge, about uniting the world.
It had been about power. About control.
And now, Iroh sat aboard a ship carrying his exiled nephew—the boy who was meant to be Fire Lord, but who had been thrown aside like a pawn in his father's game.
Zuko was still blind, still desperate to prove himself to a man who had already made his choice.
Iroh took a slow sip of his tea, feeling the warmth spread through his chest.
He could not stop this war alone.
But he had planted the seeds of doubt within the crew. They had begun to question. To think.
And if he could change them…
He could change Zuko.
And if he could change Zuko…
Then perhaps, one day, they could change the Fire Nation itself.
Aboard the Wani
In ten minutes, they would reach the Southern Water Tribe.
Zuko stood at the ship's prow, fully armored, his breath sharp against the cold air. The steel plating of his armor felt heavy, grounding him—a reminder that he was a warrior, a prince. The Fire Lord's son.
Behind him, a line of soldiers stood at the ready.
He wasn't foolish enough to believe he could defeat the Avatar alone. Even with all his training, all his fire, he knew what the Avatar represented.
But it didn't matter.
Even if he couldn't win now, he would not let him escape.
The Water Tribe girl was a problem too. He had seen her bending the ice itself to escape. If she was skilled enough, she could stall him—maybe even cost him the battle.
The logical move would be to capture her first, use her as leverage.
But Zuko was no coward.
No. He would do this with his own strength. His own fire.
This was his moment. He had searched for two years, and now—he was so close.
The ship lurched forward, parting the ice.
He would not fail.
--
In the Village
Aang was fast asleep.
Katara had stayed beside him, keeping watch as he rested, his breathing finally steady. The day had drained him.
She understood. Finding out you've lost a century… she couldn't imagine what that felt like.
She let out a quiet sigh.
A shuffling noise caught her attention.
She turned to see Sokka slipping out of the tent. His movements were quick, purposeful.
Something was wrong.
"Sokka?" she called, standing. "What's going on?"
He hesitated, shaking his head. "Nothing. Just… I need some air."
She narrowed her eyes. She didn't believe him.
And she was right not to.
Because minutes later, he came running back.
"Sokka?!" Katara shot to her feet.
His armor was already on.
He never wore that.
Even when he pretended to be a warrior, he never wore it fully. But now? His stance was tense, his eyes sharp. The deep blue plates lined with fur framed him like a true soldier. The wolf-shaped helmet rested in his grip, ready to be donned.
Katara's stomach twisted.
She had seen a ship earlier. It had to be them.
Before she could even ask, Sokka gestured for her to follow.
"Get ready," he said, voice clipped. "Meet me in the village center."
She hesitated—but then ran to change.
--
Beyond the Village Walls
The ice stretched endlessly before them, a vast, frozen wasteland that had protected their tribe for generations.
But not today.
Today, the Fire Nation was coming to their doorstep.
Sokka and Katara stood alone outside the walls, waiting.
From the distance, the dark silhouette of the ship loomed closer, cutting through the frozen sea like a blade.
They were outnumbered. Sorely so.
Katara turned to Sokka, whispering, "Do you have a plan?"
He forced a small, nervous smile.
"It's a bad one," he admitted. "But it's still a plan."
She exhaled sharply. "Let's hear it."
He glanced at the approaching ship, then back at her.
"If they're here for Aang, we just tell them he left—or we take Aang and run."
Katara stared at him.
This wasn't like him.
Earlier that day, he had been exuding confidence, boasting about protecting the tribe. But now? Now, he was already considering retreat.
She wanted to argue.
But before she could, the ship came to a stop—thirty meters from them.
The bow creaked open, metal grinding against ice.
And from within, a boy stepped forward.
He couldn't have been older than fifteen.
Zuko's expression was hardened, determined—but behind it, there was something else. Something desperate.
Ten soldiers flanked him.
Sokka swallowed.
That was… far less than he expected.
But even so—they were still outnumbered.
And standing on the deck, watching them with an unreadable gaze, was an old man.
Sokka pushed Katara back and stepped forward.
Zuko's imposing figure cast a long shadow over the ice, his footsteps measured and deliberate as he advanced toward Sokka. His golden eyes locked onto his opponent with unwavering determination, the cold wind doing little to diminish the heat rolling off his body.
Sokka stood his ground, knees slightly bent in a defensive stance. His every muscle was coiled, ready to react at a moment's notice. He wasn't naïve—this was no ordinary opponent.
For a long moment, there was only silence.
Then, Sokka broke it.
"What do you want? There's nothing left to raid."
Zuko's gaze flickered to Katara, but Sokka immediately stepped in, blocking his line of sight with his own body. A subtle warning. Zuko noted it but did not react.
"Protective. That's good. But it won't matter."
He inhaled deeply, his breath visible in the icy air. "Your tribe harbors an Airbender. We suspect he's the Avatar." His voice was calm, measured, but beneath it was an unmistakable edge. "Surrender him, and we'll leave. Otherwise… I'd rather not destroy what little remains of your village."
Katara tensed at his words, but she forced herself to remain still.
Sokka, however, only chuckled. It was dry, almost amused. "We harbor no Airbender. We're just a small tribe trying to live. We don't want conflict."
Zuko's patience was wearing thin.
He straightened his posture, lifting his chin slightly. "If you know what's best for you, you'll hand him over. You're speaking to Prince Zuko of the Fire Nation, son of Fire Lord Ozai himself." His voice sharpened. "I was personally tasked with finding the Avatar."
Sokka's jaw clenched. The son of the Fire Lord? That changed things. A direct confrontation wouldn't end well, and he knew it.
Zuko took a slow step forward, his eyes locked onto Sokka. "Where is he?"
Sokka hesitated, just for a second, before leaning toward Katara and whispering something in her ear. Her face twisted in hesitation before she nodded and turned, sprinting back toward the village.
Zuko's lips curled upward slightly. He had won.
"It seems you know what's best for you," he said, watching Katara disappear behind the icy walls. "I have no desire to harm your village, despite what you might think."
Sokka didn't respond. Instead, he took a slow step backward, shifting into a lower stance.
Zuko's eyes narrowed.
"Something's off."
"She went to bring your 'property.'" Sokka's voice was smooth, controlled. "They'll be back soon. But first—do you swear on your honor not to attack this village?"
Zuko barely hesitated. "I, Prince Zuko, swear upon my honor as the prince of the Fire Nation and son of Fire Lord Ozai that I will not attack your tribe."
The second the words left his mouth, a deafening roar split the air.
Zuko's gaze snapped upward—just in time to see a massive, fur-covered beast soaring above them. The bison.
A wave of realization crashed over him.
"They're running."
A movement in the corner of his eye.
Instinct took over.
Zuko's hand snapped up, a wall of fire erupting in front of him just in time to vaporize an incoming ice spear aimed at his throat.
His eyes burned with fury. "What are you doing?! Have you no honor?!"
Sokka's grin was razor-sharp. "Honor means nothing if it means survival."
And with that, the fight truly began.
Sokka struck first.
He hurled a flurry of ice shards at Zuko, each one expertly aimed to force movement. None were meant to kill—but every single one was meant to push him back.
Zuko countered with quick, precise bursts of fire, his fists moving in sharp jabs, each one melting or deflecting the ice before it could reach him.
Sokka was fast, but Zuko had trained against firebenders. He was used to facing enemies that moved with aggression, pressing forward.
But Sokka…
Sokka was evasive.
Every time Zuko advanced, Sokka was already gone, skating across the ice, using his environment to control the battlefield.
Zuko snarled in frustration, shifting his stance. He went on the offensive.
A side kick—an arc of fire erupted toward Sokka's chest.
Sokka twisted, bending the ice beneath him into a small ramp, launching himself into the air as the flames scorched past his previous position.
He landed, sliding effortlessly across the ice. "Gonna have to try harder than that, hothead!"
Zuko scowled, flames licking at his fingertips. "You talk too much."
He surged forward, spinning into a low sweep kick, sending a roaring wave of fire across the ground.
Sokka barely had time to react. He yanked up a wall of ice, blocking most of the flames—but Zuko was already on the move.
The firebender used the moment of blindness to circle around.
By the time Sokka saw him again, it was too late.
A powerful palm strike to the chest—fire burst from Zuko's hands, sending Sokka skidding backward across the ice.
Sokka barely had time to roll back to his feet before Zuko was on him again.
Another quick jab of fire, forcing Sokka to dodge.
Another.
And another.
Zuko was relentless, each movement sharp, precise, unrelenting.
Sokka's breathing was ragged. He couldn't keep up. Not like this.
But he didn't need to.
Because this was his battlefield.
He dropped suddenly, slamming both palms against the ice.
Zuko tensed—too late.
The ice beneath his feet vanished.
His stomach dropped.
The frozen ground gave way, and suddenly Zuko was plunging into the freezing water.
The shock hit him instantly. The cold punched into his lungs, stealing the breath from his body. His armor dragged him down.
His mind screamed.
He had to get out.
Through sheer force of will, he grabbed the edge of the ice, hauling himself upward, muscles straining.
Sokka watched from a safe distance, catching his breath. "Bad idea to fight a Waterbender on their home turf, huh?"
Zuko gasped, his body trembling. His limbs felt sluggish. The freezing temperature was sapping his strength.
But he wasn't finished yet.
Through clenched teeth, he gathered his fire, forcing heat back into his body.
Steam hissed from his wet clothes.
His golden eyes snapped back to Sokka, filled with fire and fury.
He launched himself forward, and the fight raged on.
As the battle raged on, Sokka fell back into his evasive strategy. He wasn't about to fight Zuko head-on—that was suicide. Even if he managed to take the Fire Prince down, there was a ship full of soldiers watching from the deck, and he had no idea how skilled they were. The longer this fight dragged out, the worse his odds got.
He needed an opening. One chance to break away. Then, he could reach Katara and Aang.
Zuko was tiring. His movements were sharp but strained, and his body was starting to stiffen from exertion and the biting cold.
Then came the inevitable interruption.
"Footwork, Zuko!"
The voice rang out from the deck. Iroh.
"It will help you with stronger fire! And firebending comes from the breath, not the muscle! You're making this fight last longer than it needs to!"
Zuko clenched his teeth. Of course his uncle had something to say.
But he wasn't wrong.
His body ached from exertion. He had been fighting too aggressively, throwing out too much force, and now, his limbs were numb from both exhaustion and the cold. If this dragged on any longer, he'd start slowing down.
He had to finish this.
He exhaled, letting the cold air burn through his lungs, then shifted his stance.
"What is your name, warrior of the south?"
Sokka, caught slightly off guard by the question, scoffed. "Sokka! And don't you forget it! You're talking to the next chief of the Southern Water Tribe!"
He barely dodged a sudden blast of fire.
Zuko was already adjusting his tactics. His attacks were coming in at more deceptive angles, weaving into Sokka's blind spots.
Then, without warning—he threw off his armor.
The heavy plating crashed into the snow. Steam rose from his shoulders as the sudden exposure let the heat roll off his body.
Sokka frowned. "What kind of lunatic throws off his armor in the South Pole?"
Zuko ignored him, rolling his shoulders as if shaking off a weight. "As I stand, I have no honor." His golden eyes gleamed with determination. "So I'm sure a few dishonorable tactics will be forgiven once I get it back."
Sokka shifted uneasily. Something had changed.
Zuko inhaled deeply—then exhaled, releasing a low, steady breath of fire. He wasn't just attacking mindlessly anymore. He was preparing.
"Oh, great," Sokka thought. "Now he's taking his uncle's advice."
But he couldn't afford to think about that. He had to keep moving.
Zuko launched forward.
A burst of fire from his feet propelled him across the ice, and in the blink of an eye, he was already within striking range.
He opened with a side kick—a wave of fire surged toward Sokka.
Then another.
And another.
Each one building momentum.
Sokka barely had time to react before the flames filled his vision.
This wasn't random aggression anymore. This was strategy. Zuko was using wide-range attacks to cut off his ability to dodge.
Sokka gritted his teeth and reacted on instinct.
He pulled the ice up, shielding himself.
Flames clashed against the frozen walls, melting through layer after layer.
Then—Zuko switched tactics.
He fired downward, using the force to lift himself mid-air.
Sokka's walls fell apart just in time for Zuko to send a scorching blast directly at his feet.
The heat surged through the snow, throwing Sokka off-balance.
Zuko saw his chance.
With a final burst, he closed the distance completely.
Sokka, still staggering, had seconds to react.
His mind raced—he needed distance!
Thinking fast, he yanked the surrounding snow into a controlled burst, using it like a springboard to launch himself backward.
Zuko planted his feet, ready to end it.
His breath deepened as he gathered his fire, drawing on his core, just like Iroh had taught him.
This was it.
He inhaled.
He thrust his fist forward.
A fireball erupted—
—Or, well, it should have.
Instead, a pitiful wisp of flame sputtered out.
Sokka blinked.
Zuko froze.
For a single, excruciating moment, there was silence.
Then—
"PFFT—"
Sokka broke into a grin.
"That was supposed to be a fireball?"
Zuko's expression darkened. His eyes burned with pure, unfiltered rage.
From the deck, Iroh let out a heavy sigh.
"He got the first step of breath control right, but he didn't let the energy flow into his muscles. He just… threw his fist forward."
Sokka exhaled sharply. He wasn't about to stick around and let Zuko correct his mistake.
"Now's my chance!"
He turned, yanking up a spiraling current of water, letting it wrap around his feet like a cyclone.
He propelled himself upward, using the force to launch toward the sky—
Straight onto Appa's saddle.
Zuko could only watch as the bison let out a deep rumbling growl and soared into the clouds, carrying his only lead with it.
His fists clenched.
He had failed.
And the Avatar was getting away.