After Ivan departed, Antonov served the tea and sat with the girls. "So, since I know so little about either of you, I wanted to know why exactly you came here?" he asked before turning to Mai. "I know you mentioned Azula recruiting you to help capture her brother, but why did she bring you along? Doesn't she have soldiers?"

The girls flashed a glance at each other before turning to him. "Well, I guess you could say she thought we would be better for her mission," Ty Lee replied as she sipped her tea. "Hmm, this isn't bad."

"Why thank you," he said with a nod to Ty Lee before he did likewise. "But that still doesn't explain anything. I don't mean to be rude, but you're both young teenage girls. What could have possibly compelled Azula to bring you two into a warzone?"

Both girls smirked as though they knew something he did not. "I guess I'll have to show you sometime," Mai replied as she pulled a knife practically from thin air and began idly spinning it around her index finger. Then, without warning, she threw it at the lone cabinet, hitting one of the spaces between the drawers so that it pierced while doing minimal damage. Sergei felt his body tense, his hand reflexively resting near the hilt of his spadroon as he shot up at the sound of the metal striking wood.

"Nice shot, Mai," Ty Lee replied, knocking him from his reactive state as she turned to him. "Hey, are you okay?"

Sergei shook his head and lowered his hand as Mai also turned to regard the young officer. "I'm sorry. You just-" he sighed deeply. "Never mind," he replied as he took his seat.

Mai gave him an inquisitive look before turning to his sword. "I've never seen swords like yours before. Could I have a look?"

Sergei cocked his brow. "Are you sure?" Mai nodded and put out her delicate hands in anticipation. "Very well," he said, carefully standing up and drawing his blade before giving it to her.

As he did, Ty Lee stood up and yawned before taking her tea. "Well, I think I'm going to go back to sleep. See you guys later," she said, dismissing herself.

They both gave her a wave as she turned and shut the door on her way out before their attention returned to the weapon sitting in Mai's hands.

"Focus, Aang. Clear your mind and let your chi flow," repeated Pathik as Aang sat in a meditative pose, slowly breathing in and out as he focused on his breath and the dry leaf in his hands. Over the previous two days, he had opened his chakras and had begun to unravel the power that the Avatar State held. However, despite all this newfound understanding, something stopped him from achieving his full potential.

After a few more minutes of trying, he threw the leaf into the pool of water before him and growled. "Ugh, why can't I get this!? It came so easily the first time!" he shouted, throwing up his hands.

Pathik had a sullen expression on his face. "I'm sorry, Aang. But aside from what you've tried, I don't know how else to help you, for fire is not my element. I only know the basics of what my travels taught me, nothing more."

Aang sighed deeply, frustrated at his inability to so much as scorch the leaf as he watched it be carried away by the current like all the others he'd tried to use. "Do you have any more onion and banana juice?" he asked, looking up.

The ancient man smiled warmly. "Of course, Aang. Now come. There's something I found the other day that might help cheer you up."

Aang looked at him with mild curiosity as he hopped off the rock and used bending to aid in jumping across the pool back to the shore. "What is it?"

The Guru smiled before gesturing for him to follow, which he did. After a short while, they returned to the small room Pathik used as his home, and he and Aang quietly shared cups of juice before the older man rose and again gestured for Aang to follow him. Upon exiting the tiny room, they walked down the hall and went outside, passing Appa, who was contentedly eating the hay Pathik had prepared for him. Making their way up the mountain, they reached the summit, and Pathik entered the central spire, with Aang following behind. "Now, Aang, while it may have been many years ago, I believe every monk gets a glider once they come of age, yes?"

Aang felt anxious while rubbing the back of his neck. "Uh yeah, why?" Aang replied, recalling what happened to his glider.

"And you don't have one, do you?" He asked, much to the young Avatar's shock.

"No, I have- had one," he replied, his head lowered before turning to look at him. "But, what does that have to do with anything?"

Pathik smiled as he stopped at a room hidden behind a ragged cloth. "I thought you might need one," he said, pulling it aside and gesturing inside.

Aang approached with trepidation, and his eyes widened when he stood on the edge of the entryway. Standing before him was something he thought he would never see again. The large chamber's walls were lined with old gliders that were in surprisingly decent condition. "H-How?" he asked, turning to the Guru.

"I can't be sure, Aang. But I recalled finding this room many moons ago, and it has remained undisturbed since," he said with a deep, mournful sigh. "Many of these were carried by dear friends of mine, and I felt it disrespectful to touch them when I couldn't even use one," he concluded.

"So, why are you showing me this?" Aang asked, confused.

Pathik smiled as he turned to him. "Because I think they would want you to have the tools you need to bring balance to the world," he said, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "So, choose wisely," then, he turned and left the young Avatar alone. Taking a deep breath, Aang entered the chamber and walked toward the far left side of the room. As he went through the lines of gliders, he couldn't help but imagine who they may have belonged to all those years ago.

As Mai regarded the weapon, she found herself internally shocked. She had never seen such a beautiful sword in all her life. Sure, the craftsmanship may not have been on the level of the renowned swordsmith Piandao, but it still exceeded the quality she expected. However, what truly caught her attention was the high grade of the steel blade and the brass guard, which was surprisingly sturdy despite its elegant and delicate appearance. The blade was thin to an almost extreme degree and quite long for a one-handed sword. Curious, she tried to bend it, only for her eyes to widen as the blade flexed only a tiny amount before righting itself once she let go. However, as she did, she noticed a series of tiny imperfections: All along the blade were scratches of varying size and angle, evidence of use. "You like it?" Sergei asked, breaking the silence and catching Mai off-guard.

Quickly, she recomposed herself before handing him back his sword. "Yeah. It's interesting," she replied, a slight blush on her face as he took it before standing up again and putting it away. As he did, she opted to study his face, trying to figure out just what sort of man he was. She could already tell he was nothing like Zuko, who was openly brooding and passionate. But, besides that, she knew nothing save the story his weapon told her: Despite being the same sword carried by most of the Ruskian officers she'd met, his blade told a story in its own right, just as any other weapon. It spoke not only of the creator but also the wielder, and when she looked at his face, it clicked. Much like his blade on the outside, he appeared pristine, clean, and gentile, the sort of suitor her parents would have wanted for her. Yet, beneath that facade, she saw something else, a strange combination of light and despair which threatened to boil over, a remorse which went unheeded. She didn't need Ty Lee's auras to see when his deep brown eyes told her all that in only a split second of him gazing at his blade before stowing it in his sheath.

Once he sat down, his gaze did not meet hers as Sergei softly seized his cup and took a sip as she did the same. "So, Miss Mai, how long have you been using knives?" he questioned before taking another sip.

"A while," she replied. "How long have you been fighting?" she asked, and the officer stopped himself mid-sip, and his sharp eyes turned to her.

"Hm. It certainly has been a little while, yes," Antonov replied, his tone mimicking hers as he took on a thoughtful expression.

As Aang made his way through the chamber, trying to find a glider that suited him, he couldn't help but think of Pathik's words and his old master. His heart ached as he looked over each one, seeing the small personal touches only an Airbender could notice: The names of the Monks who made them inscribed on each, the varying patterns, sizes, and wing shapes. He wondered who each of them was when they were alive and how they flew. Some were tall, others short. Some were wide, some were thin, but not one reminded him of his glider until he came near the end of the chamber on the opposite side from where he started. There, he spotted one that, while not dissimilar from those around it, he could feel something tugging at him to take it. So, he did. But when his hand touched the worn staff, his eyes and air-bending tattoos went white-

When Aang opened his eyes, he found his senses flooded with images of fire and the scent of smoke. Fearful, he ran out of the room, only to nearly collide with a young boy about his age dressed in monk robes as he ran into the room, covering his mouth with his collar. "I-I gotta get out of here!" he shouted, not even acknowledging the Avatar as he ran toward the glider Aang was going to take before he found himself here.

Suddenly, he heard pairs of heavy boots and armour clanging from the hall. "I saw one come this way!" a booming voice echoed from the doorway, causing the boy to freeze where he stood.

"He couldn't have gone far. Remember our orders: Our nation's victory depends on the destruction of the Avatar!" another replied, and the sound lessened until only a single pair approached the door.

Aang quickly turned his head to the petrified boy. "What are you doing? Get out of here!" he whispered loud enough for him to hear.

The boy turned his head this way and that as if trying to locate who spoke. But that didn't make sense since Aang stood in front of him. "W-Who said that?" That was when the sound of a man's steps reached the doorway, and that's when he saw him. A fire bender, dressed in the sort of armour he recalled their soldiers wearing in his youth, entered the room after brushing aside the cloth in the doorway with a firey fist. The boy turned, staring straight through Aang with horror-filled eyes as he slowly backed away. "P-Please-" was all he could get out before the man took a deep breath and spurted the largest gout of flame Aang had ever seen from his hands. The boy raised his hands, sending out a wave of air before attempting to dodge to the side. The Avatar noted he did not bear the tattoos of a master, and his sluggish movement displayed why, as he prepared to evade, only to be caught in the blast. Aang could only watch in horror as the fire burned him alive, his screams of unimaginable pain and agony echoing out as his body burned to a crisp in the heat of the inferno.

Then, before it could spread further through the room, the fire suddenly stopped its rampage, and he turned to see the Firebender fall to his knees, his breathing ragged. "I-I did it," he said, his voice quiet as he stood. Despite what he'd done and said, he seemed remorseful as a stray tear fell from his cheek before he wiped it and turned to leave. Aang stared after the man, his eyes narrowed and his breathing rampant. In response, the man stopped and turned, his eyes filling with shock upon looking down at where he stood. "When did you-"

It was then Aang knew that, somehow, while the monk couldn't see him, this man could, and for some reason, Aang couldn't explain, he felt something shift in his chest. Suddenly, he felt aware of some newfound power burning through him as he charged into the man and, with a foreign strength, tugged him up by the collar as he floated in place. "You, who dare disrupt the balance of this world, shall pay the ultimate price!" a thousand voices echoed as the walls rumbled with every syllable he spoke. Aang could feel the fire, could taste the hatred he felt for this man who just murdered one of his kindreds before his eyes. Sure, he had felt remorse when he discovered the body of Gyatso. But this felt different. It felt real. Only twice had he known this feeling. The first was at the Northern Watertribe when he had merged with the Ocean Spirit. While mentally absent, he could still feel the spirit's anger raging around him like a torrent. But that was another's rage, and he still had never felt such anger for anyone until he met General Fong and faced the sand benders who captured Appa.

Yet, what he felt now, as he held this man's life in his hands, exceeded anything before, and as Aang raised his hand to strike, he could already feel the fire burning in his palm. The man shivered in place, his mouth a muttering mess as his eyes, his terrified eyes bore into his. Despite his anger and the wish to destroy this man as he'd done to the innocent monk with the same element he wielded to do it, Aang took a breath and slowly lowered himself and the man he was holding to the ground. "Go. Leave this place. Never return." He let go of the man, who fearfully backed away before running out of the room, and then his vision went blank-

As Sokka crouched on the deck of the Watertribe warship, he waited for his father to signal to board the stricken Fire Nation cruiser ahead of them. For the past two and a half days, his father and the other tribesmen had taken their time to see how much he'd grown and what had occurred in their absence. While they had heard some of the details from Bato, based on what they told him during his short stint with the GAang, there was still a lot he didn't know or that he and Katara didn't have the time to tell him. He told the tale of his first encounter with Zuko when he landed after Aang and Katara had accidentally alerted him by firing a flare from the abandoned Southern Raiders ship frozen in the ice near the village. At first, the men were upset, but as he explained how he had been brave enough to face such a foe alone and Aang's selfless sacrifice in giving himself up, their fears softened, followed by cheers when he spoke of the Prince's humiliating defeat later that same day. At the same time, his father had also introduced him to their current objective of trying to stop Fire-Navy ships from reaching Full Moon Lake. For the past two days, there was nothing. Then, suddenly, came a signal in the form of smoke rising from the East. A Fire Nation ship had struck a mine. A tangle mine, a specialty of his father's, was a bomb sunk using a cow-pigs intestine as a sleeve for the fuse tied to a heavy stone to keep most of it underwater. When a ship hit one, the fuse would activate, and a few seconds later, it would detonate, spreading vast quantities of seaweed mixed with sticky slime. The ship's propulsion would get tangled up in the seaweed, while the slime would create a horrific scent thanks to the slime. As a result, the crew would abandon the ship or go below deck until it went away. The assumed reason the Fire Nation ship was dead in the water, at least, as far as Sokka could tell. "Alright, men, prepare to board," Hakoda said as he turned toward his son and the rest of the Warriors clad in wolf armour. When he caught sight of Sokka, he grinned before turning back toward the bow, and the boy felt his chest swell with pride. He had called him a man.

When Aang recovered, he found himself in Pathik's room, lying on the plain cot the man used to sleep, his head in searing pain and his vision blurry. "Uh, w-wha-?" he blinked several times as the door opened, and the Guru entered and ran over to him, a worried look on his face.

"Ah, Aang, you're awake," he said as he walked over and sat beside the bed. "Do you recall what happened?" he asked, taking out a bucket of water.

Aang shook his head. "No, not really. Why?" he lied, turning his head to avoid talking about the horror he'd witnessed, and he noticed the same glider from earlier on the wall.

"Well, when I found you, you were unconscious on the floor, and you were holding this," he said, taking the staff and presenting it before putting it back.

"Oh, uh, I see," he replied, shaking his head. He didn't recall doing that.

"Hm," the Guru said before nodding and standing up, taking the bucket with him. "I'll be outside if you need me. Unfortunately, juice doesn't make itself," he said as he walked out, leaving the young Avatar to his conflicting thoughts.

But then, Aang recalled something. He remembered that feeling and also the fire. Curious, Aang quietly lifted himself from the bed and, after taking the staff, walked to the opposite window before jumping out of it, opening the glider as he did. The cool noon air brushed against his face as he nose-dived toward the mountain below before positioning the glider above himself and, on instinct, used his bending to pull up. Oh, he'd missed this feeling, the freedom of flying under his power. Yes, he loved Appa more than anything, but flying with his glider was different. He could move any way he wanted, going anywhere he pleased, free from the restrictions and boundaries of others. But this wasn't his glider. Yes, it was similar in many ways, but when he looked at the name carved into the wood, his heart sank: Tenzhu, the boy's name was Tenzhu.

When Aang spotted a remote area away from the temple, he landed on it. Around him stood nothing, and Aang felt grateful for that as he took a deep breath and, recalling his anger and hatred, pushed out his palm in a familiar motion as he imagined that man, that cruel, pathetic man who had slain Tenshu most brutally. Suddenly, he felt heat emanate from his hand. He opened his eyes to see a gout of flame, slightly smaller than the one he'd seen earlier, shoot forth before dissipating. His thoughts turned to what his teachers had taught him: Gyatso taught him the value of freedom and how to keep moving. Katara taught him to be flexible and adaptive but also to be rigid when he needed to be. Toph taught him to take responsibility and face his problems head-on. Jong-Jong, on the other hand, preached fear. To fear his element and the destruction it represented. But, here and now, Aang found he no longer feared fire. He hated it. He hated that man, he hated Sozin, and he hated Ozai. Yet, as he contended with these thoughts, his body continued moving, his Firebending growing stronger with each heated thought.

When, at last, he stopped to take a breath, Aang nearly sank to his knees when he beheld the desolation before him: Where before, the summit sprung with life, nothing remained but ash. He didn't know how long he was bending for, with no regard for anything besides his emotions and growing power. Just as the old master had warned, he'd again lost control.

Authors Note:

Heeellloooo everyone! I apologize for the short delay. I was trying to get this chapter done last week, but I just didn't find the motivation. Nevertheless, here it is at last! I know it's a little on the short side, but I feel like it's the perfect length to achive the objective I set for myself. Now, with that out of the way, we're almost at 150 favs, and 170 follows, if you can believe it! So, as always, I ask that you share, read, fav, and review. And, if you have any questions, feel free to PM me.

Now, tune in next time to see Ivan reunite with his unit, Azula's contining coma saga, and for Jet to prepare his people.