Chapter Text

Chapter 19: Experiment and Emulate

Wan sat on the mossy stones, lost in thought.

He was a ghost. It did make a lot of sense. There was no way he really could have survived breaking through the world boundary and being devoured by the machinery of reincarnation. He’d felt strange ever since he’d first appeared in this place—detached and kind of fuzzy in a sensory way—but he’d assumed that was just the lingering effect of entering and exiting the Spirit World with his physical body.

Wan had seen ghosts before. He and Ksantaa had fought off a horde of them—the frozen spirits of humans who had died from hypothermia, forever seeking to get warm. They were broken things, only small pieces of memory and spirit that clung to the Physical World, too stubborn to let themselves get sucked into the machinery.

Well, he was stubborn too. Maybe even stubborn enough to not let a single piece of himself go on to the next life.

Strange though, that he still needed to eat and breathe, and that he was still physically fused with his four spirit allies. None of the other spirits he’d ever met really needed to do any of those things, though sometimes they did them because it was a part of their natures.

As a test, he tried not breathing, just to see if he really needed to, or if it had been a habit of his nature this whole time.

He held his breath and looked around at the room full of humans. Seven of them, not counting himself, which he didn’t know if he should.

Bolin, of course, who was trying to explain things to the rest. Mako, Bolin’s brother, who was quiet and unreadable and held another ghost at his side. Was that why he’d been able to recognize Wan’s ghostly nature?

Then there was Asami, tall and furiously composed, and Bumi, a jokester like Wan’s first crush. Kya, prickly and frustrated, and Tonraq, who seemed lost and sad, and couldn’t meet Wan’s eyes. And lastly Tenzin, who had put himself in charge, and seemed to be familiar with the ruins. He’d been the one to find this secluded, peaceful chamber. A cloister, he’d called it. A warm, peaceful spot, out of the winds and green with mossy life. Everyone sat in a circle on the stone ground, talking and arguing.

By and large, they all seemed pretty mad at Bolin for failing to rescue Korra. Wan felt this was a little unfair, since Unalaq had been the one to put Korra in the position of needing rescue, but they were all upset and having side arguments and spinning in circles around Wan’s aching head while his chest burned and throat ached…

Wan gasped as the part of him that kept him alive took over and forced him to breathe. Bolin looked over at him with confusion and concern—a delightfully human response.

“Are you okay?”

Wan gulped down one more big breath. “I don’t think I’m a ghost.”

Mako scowled at him, but Wan wasn’t fully sure how to interpret it, since it looked like he spent most of his time scowling. Confusion?

“Ghosts don’t need to breathe,” he explained.

“And humans don’t glow,” Mako shot back.

Wan looked down at his hands, confused. Normal, brown human hands, lit with thin winter sunlight. Then he shifted his perception and looked again, a hint of the Turtle’s Gift helping him to open his inner eye to see where the Spirit World overlapped and aligned with the Physical World.

“Oh.” He held up a hand, looking at the spirit-glow, the superposition of more than one entity in the same physical space. “Not normally no.” In fact, he couldn’t think of anything that might cause this, apart from fusing with some kind of light spirit…

Wan closed his eyes and tuned out the other humans’ arguments, talking about Korra and Unalaq and some Avatar being he wasn’t familiar with. He found the Turtle’s Gift and turned it inward like he had when he’d first integrated with Agni.

Ah. That was where Raava had gone. It had come after him, following him into the machinery of reincarnation, used its powers of preservation and stillness to hold him together, hold them both together. Fused, just like he was with the other four, but in a different expression. Along channels of power that stretched through time, and not through the lines of leverage and force he’d carved into his own body.

Raava? he thought, but there was no answer, no voice in his head besides his own, because he was Raava now, just as much as he was Agni and Hava, Jiivana and Ksantaa. It would only be him, talking to himself. A wave of grief washed through him. He’d liked Raava, and would miss their conversations.

Breathing deep, he settled his awareness in further, examining this part of himself he hadn’t known existed. It was a reflection of sorts, a reflection of a reflection. Looking into a pool and seeing your own eyes, and in your eyes, seeing the pool again, on and on and on… And in those reflections, an otherness. Something in him that was not him . And not in the same way that all the spirits he’d subsumed had joined with him and become part of him. This was something foreign, some other pattern of thought and being that was almost painful to touch.

Wan pulled his attention back, heart beating fast in his chest.

He stood, suddenly overwhelmed by all the loud voices and unfamiliar humans.

“Food. I’m going to get some. For everybody.”

He left, well aware that all of them were staring at him. One or two started to stand and follow him, but Bolin held up a hand and shook his head, letting him leave in peace.

Wan sighed, frustrated with himself. He should have stayed and tried to figure out what Bolin’s friends wanted to do and what they needed to know.

But a big part of him was just scared. Scared of that reflection place inside himself, and afraid of the other humans. Bolin had reacted to the Turtle’s Gift much like the humans of Agni City had—with fear and misunderstanding. It was understandable because it was a strange and powerful thing that Wan himself didn’t know how to best describe. He didn’t want to feel afraid like this, and he didn’t want the others to be afraid of him either.

What he really wanted was to just live. To go with Bolin back to his city, or to any city or village, and to make more friends there. Eat food and make art and have a family. He wanted to see that all his efforts hadn’t been in vain and the world really was better now. But the rest of them weren’t going to do that until they rescued Korra, and Wan had had enough of wandering alone through the Wilds.

He made a fist. He’d been too passive, too overwhelmed from all the changes between a few days ago and now, ten thousand years later. It was time he took action, time he followed a plan that was his and not Raava’s or Ksantaa’s or the Turtle’s.

He walked a little ways down the mountainside, following an overgrown path that meandered through the trees in a way that was meant to make the walker marvel at their beauty. Even in the cold sleep of winter, it was beautiful.

Wan knelt, feeling the stones and soil beneath his hand, feeling the lines of force that ran through his back and arm and fingers, the lever that moved Ksantaa’s power. He pushed on that lever. Leaned on it and sent his senses down into the earth.

He was Ksantaa, and Ksantaa was the earth, so he was the earth, and the earth was him. Just like he could feel the tiredness in his bones, and his heart beating in his chest, he felt the great pressure and weight of the mountain. He felt the wind and water wearing it down, grain by grain. He felt the tiny, microscopic movements of the ants and the worms and mycelium in the soil, and he felt human footsteps. Shuffling, stomping, dancing.

Desna. And there, as a still pressure upon the ground, Unalaq. Just the two of them, surrounded by spirits, perhaps a half-hour’s walk down the slope. He didn’t sense any other humans, but Eska and Korra had to be somewhere nearby, outside his sensory range.

Wan released Ksantaa’s power, then shifted his metaphorical lever to Hava. Air spiraled around him, so tight and controlled that the dead leaves on the forest floor barely moved as he lifted himself up, between the branches and over the treetops to where Unalaq and Desna were hiding.

On the way, he steeled himself, focusing on his values and his dreams and all the parts that he was comprised of, because apparently Unalaq had the Turtle’s gift too, and if Wan had to fight him with it, he didn’t want to be unprepared.

The air around Unalaq’s camp was still as Wan touched down, sandals crunching softly on the fallen leaves.

Unalaq and Desna were there, watching him with impassive patience, while a handful of spirits prowled around the edges. A wolf spirit and a rat spirit, a spirit of darkness and ash, and two more whose natures were more complex and Wan couldn’t identify them at a glance.

Unalaq stood, and in one fluid movement, he prostrated himself before Wan. Chest pressed against knees, arms stretched out on the ground, eyes looking down. Desna did the same, though not quite as dramatically.

“Uh, what?” Wan had never seen such a pose before. Not even the King of Agni City had demanded veneration like this, and he’d had people carry him around in a chair even though he could walk!

Slowly, Unalaq stood, not bothering to brush the dirt and twigs from his clothes. “Avatar Wan. It is the honor of my lifetime, of all my lifetimes, to stand in your presence.” He bowed again, bending from the waist, giving Wan time to digest his words.

He’d come expecting a fight, not whatever this was. He was just some guy who’d led a somewhat unconventional life. He wasn’t a Sage or a great spirit who deserved this kind of deference. Frankly, it was amazing Unalaq knew who he was, given how long he’d been stuck in the timeless place between worlds.

But, if Unalaq was willing to talk, that was a good thing.

Wan pointed at him, accusing. “Where are you hiding Korra? Bolin and his friends want to have her back.”

Desna glanced at his father with just a hint of confusion and worry, but Unalaq remained composed and in control. He shook his head, eyes closed. The very picture of sorrowful regret, so perfect that Wan didn’t trust it for a second.

“I’m afraid you have been lied to, Avatar. Or at least not given the full story. Come, sit, and I can tell you the truth of it all.” Unalaq gestured to a small stool made of cloth and wood, as he settled his own rear end upon a second stool.

Wan didn’t want to do what Unalaq wanted, but he did want to hear what he had to say. He’d known Bolin had been hiding things from him, but he’d assumed these were things that either Bolin found difficult to talk about, or things he had a hard time explaining. Bolin was knowledgeable, but he was not Sage, no teacher.

So, Wan plunked himself down on the ground, stretched out, leaning back on this elbows. He wasn’t sure how Bolin’s obfuscations related to Korra, but he was willing to let Unalaq be dramatic and draw out the suspense. That was how the Sages had tended to do things back home, so it was weirdly comforting, in a way.

Unalaq gave him a little indulgent smile, then began talking, as Desna started up a fire and began boiling some water.

“Are you aware of your legacy, Avatar Wan?”

He nodded. Bolin had explained what he could, and Wan could puzzle out the rest. Humanity was safe now, or at least safe from the spirits who wanted to destroy the things that made human life possible. Humans still made life hard for each other, but they didn’t face an existential threat anymore. There were few corporeal spirits in the Physical World in this age, but Wan thought that was a worthy trade for humanity’s continued existence.

That, and that somehow, his bond with his four ally spirits had been passed down through the generations, even if it was in a very diluted way. Amazing, because he’d never even had sex with anyone he could make children with. He pondered for a moment how that could have happened.

Apparently, Wan took too long to respond aloud, because Unalaq started talking again. He winced, aware that he was out of practice talking with other humans.

“By banishing Vaatu, you have created a world safe for mankind. A world in which we can thrive. In which we have thrived, for ten thousand years. And perhaps at the time, this seemed like the wisest decision. I do not know the circumstances under which you lived. But the consequences have multiplied down the generations.”

Unalaq’s tone was quiet and warm, but his words were backed by a sharp, hard-edged resolve like flint. A blade in the hand of a man who knew how to use his tools well. He reminded Wan of old Sage Aatwan, who could ensnare the entire village in stories and worlds of their own making.

“What consequences?” Wan asked.

“The hubris of mankind. There are so few spirits left in the world that even my own niece doubted their existence. We have dominated the planet and twisted it towards our own ends, without considering the needs of others. With each passing year, the Earth becomes more a more sterile, barren place, unfit for any life except what we allow to live.”

Wan glanced around with a skeptical eye. Unalaq had five spirit friends right here, and they were surrounded on all sides by a vibrant forest full of creatures big and small, protected by thousand year old trees.

“This place is largely untouched, but it is a rarity these days. I can show you, if you like.” He held out his hand, offering.

Wan considered it. It was a risk. The biggest risk of all to let Unalaq touch him. But Wan’s curiosity was overpowering. He wanted to see how the world had changed, beyond the glimpse he’d seen at the ruined temple and the things Bolin had described.

And besides, if Unalaq had wanted to harm him, he could have tried it already. Taken him by surprise instead of letting him build up his guard.

“Okay.” Wan sat up and grasped Unalaq’s outstretched hand, pushing his spirit to meet Unalaq’s where skin met skin.

Slowly, gently, Unalaq shared memories with him. Ancient forests being torn down to make room for pastures and roads. Great holes in the earth where poisons were being dug up and burned. They heated the homes of freezing humans, but the poison floated into the air and sank into the water.

Cities devouring the landscape around them. Barren places of stone and smoke, devoid of spirits and animals and plants.

He watched as Unalaq visited Republic City throughout his life, watched it grow and grow, full of miserable people who were so disconnected from the earth they didn’t know where their food came from and didn’t believe that spirits had ever existed.

A dying world, where humans had taken Vaatu’s place.

Finally, Wan pulled back, tears streaming down his face. He’d been to some of the places Unalaq had shown him, and they were dead now, empty of the spirits and creatures who had once lived there. Old friends whose descendants hadn’t even survived. He’d felt his own grief at seeing those places, and felt Unalaq’s quiet rage.

Before him, Unalaq sat on his stool, sad and still, while Desna sipped his tea, looking smug.

“Do you see now why I want to free Vaatu?” Unalaq asked, his voice so kind and gentle.

“I do.”

He saw too, how Unalaq’s story fit into the gaps in what Bolin had told him. The disconnectedness that lived behind his stories of money and triads and writing. The ways the world had changed in the last ten thousand years.

“Will you help us?” Unalaq asked. It was a genuine question too—not a demand masquerading as a request. Unalaq had given him the information he lacked, and it was up to him what he was going to do with it.

“Yes. I’ll help.”

Thanks to all the powerful spirits he had absorbed, it wasn’t hard to bring Unalaq and Desna to the flying machine they had left on the beach. He’d made a sling out of the fabric from Unalaq’s tent, and using Hava’s power over the air, he could ferry them to the flying machine.

“What about your sister?” Wan asked, as he helped Desna situate himself in the sling.

“She won’t be coming.”

“Why not?” If he was going to help these humans, he needed to understand what was going on.

“She decided her affair with that earthbender was more important than our cause.”

“...Bolin?”

“Yes. Him.”

Something strange and uncertain twisted in Wan’s gut. He didn’t want to think about it, so he shoved it down, way down into that blinding place of reflections that he didn’t want to think about either.

“Well, he is very attractive,” Wan said, trying to lighten the mood.

Desna gave him a horrified look. Wan felt his face go hot, and cleared his throat. “Let’s go.”

Back at the flying machine, Unalaq had already charted out a plan—first flying to the village on the island to acquire supplies for the journey, then heading northward towards Republic City. There, they would meet with a friend of Unalaq’s: Iknik Varrick.

“He was a scoundrel once, but he’s since seen the error of his ways,” Unalaq said, as Desna piloted the flying machine. It was such a strange experience, sitting in a metal box hurtling through the sky, Wan could only barely focus on what Unalaq was saying.

“He has paid his penance to the tribes, and has proven himself a champion for our cause.”

“Oh, wow,” Wan murmured. Something about being so disconnected from the earth, and the gentle noise and shaking of the machine was making him sleepy.

“He’s a genius as well,” Desna added. “He helped to design the Puddle Jumpers. Alongside Asami Sato, who you may have met back at the temple. She...”

“I see,” Wan said, as his head leaned against the side of the machine and his eyes fluttered closed.

Wan dreamed.

He dreamed he was not enclosed in a metal box, but sitting on the back of an animal friend. His best friend, Mula. Only she wasn’t a cat-deer, but a bear-dog, and they were bounding through a field of snow that was also a city, with buildings so tall they seemed to stretch up and up forever.

They ran, joyous and free, through the bright, blinding city. At the end of the corridor between the shining buildings, Wan could see Raava, as still and solemn as ever. It spoke his name, and he called out to it, waving.

“You must wake up.”

“Raava, I’ve missed you!”

“Harmonic Convergence is nearly upon us. Our bond must be maintained.”

“Raava, are you upset I did not destroy Vaatu? Because you did help, in the end--”

Raava interrupted him, speaking his name. Only it was not his name, because the sounds of the word were wrong. Only it was his name, because it grabbed his attention and tugged at his heart in only the way his name could.

“What?”

“You must wake up, Korra.”