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Chapter Text

Book One: Air

Chapter One: The Boy in the Temple

She found him near the edge of the turtle duck pond, curled up in a tight ball. His head peeked over his knees as he stared sullenly at the smooth water.

"There you are, Zuko!" Ursa exclaimed, although she hardly expected him to be anywhere else. The palace grounds were expansive—bigger than many Earth Kingdom cities even—and yet she could always count on her son to be by the turtle duck pond.

Except for a furrowing of his frown, Zuko gave no sign of his mother's approach. She sat down next to him and gently began to rub his back. "What's wrong? You ran off without telling anyone." Her slender but strong hands worked in soothing circles, and slowly the tension unwound from her son's shoulders.

"Why can't I bend like Azula?!" Zuko finally blurted out. "She's already mastered all the beginning katas...and—and—I can't even do the first one right!" He buried his face deeper into his lap. "Master Kunyo thinks so himself."

"Ohh, Zuko..." No doubt Azula had been teasing him about his abilities. Ursa's mouth set into a pinched line. She would have to have a talk with her. "You've only began firebending a few months ago."

The day that Zuko had first bent fire flared in her mind. His face was aglow as he grinned, lifting a cupped hand, "Look, mom, I can firebend!", a stark contrast to his expression now. She had almost given up hope in him then. He was six, and firebending children usually manifested abilities at age three. Indeed, Azula had done so, quick to show off her flashy moves.

There had been whispers among the fire sages that the boy was not a firebender at all, but a nonbender. Immediately after Azula was born, she looked out into the world with a fierce gaze. Zuko however, despite being the firstborn, was small and quiet; his eyes were shut, face turned away from the sounds and bright lights. Ozai nearly cast Zuko over the walls, determined to destroy the weaker, useless twin. It was only when Zuko, at the last moment, opened his eyes, gazing outwards with his beautiful golden irises, that Ozai’s ire was sated.

“His eyes are the color of the Eternal Flame”, Mutya, the Bhanti shaman attending to her, had proclaimed. “It is a sign he will grow to be strong.”

But that assurance alone wasn’t enough to compensate for the years of training, urging, and pushing for Zuko to make a single spark—a spark, that when it did come, had come three years too late.

Ursa could recall that time with disturbing clarity—she could still see the dangerous glint in Ozai's eyes and feel the cold disappointment radiating from him. "You know why I chose you, Ursa", he would hiss in her ear, "you and the boy are a disgrace."  Descended from a long line of powerful firebenders, from Avatar Roku himself, she was supposed to be the perfect bride. For her son, a fire nation prince, to be a nonbender—it was unacceptable.

"You need to give yourself time," she reassured her son. For his sake, she would not let him give up, not when Ozai's veiled threats still burned in her mind, threats she knew he would execute if given the chance.

"Azula doesn't need time," Zuko muttered, "she just gets it."

"Don't you mind Azula! You'll catch up, it's— "

Zuko shot up, hands balled into fists. "It's not fair!" he shouted across the pond. "Why am I always the weaker one?!" His voice trembled.

Ursa fell back. No longer listening to her son's words, she stared. For, as Zuko stood, shaking, the pond's surface began to ripple.

oOo

"Prince Zuko, perhaps we should abandon this venture," Iroh said softly, stepping up beside his nephew, "after all, only an airbender can open these doors." he rested a hand on Zuko's tensed shoulder.

At the touch, Zuko whirled around, his scarred face contorted in a snarl. "Abandon? Abandon, Uncle?! This is the only lead we have on the airbenders, and you would have me give up?!" In the months since his exile, they had scoured through the Western, Northern, and Eastern Air Temples, and found the sanctuaries destroyed—either burned down long ago during the invasion, or caved in. The Southern Air Temple was the only one with its sanctuary intact.

"I very much doubt there is any lead, Prince Zuko. It is likely these doors have not been opened in a hundred years. What do you expect to find in there?"

An image of airbenders, laughing and soaring on gliders, hidden within the walls of the sanctuary flashed in Zuko's mind. He shook the thought away. No, that was ridiculous. But if the rumors were true...

"They still exist," Zuko insisted, mouth set in a hard line. "I know it. There is a chance they have been in this room. I have to find a way to open it."

Iroh sighed. "Very well, Prince Zuko. I'll leave you be." It was better to let his nephew sulk for a few more hours. In the meantime, Iroh thought as he strolled down the dusty corridor, he could sit down with a cup of tea and a game of Pi Sho. His pace lightened. Lieutenant Jee was always an entertaining opponent.

oOo

Zuko trained his gaze on the door while his uncle's footsteps faded away. In a scream of frustration, he flung out an arm, sending a spinning flare of fire towards the door. The flames hardly scorched the heavy stone.

He clutched his head, heaving in ragged breaths. Why?! He had spent the last few hours since discovering the room attacking the door, to no avail—the sanctuary remained as impassive as ever. How was he ever going to go back home now? Zuko suddenly felt numb, the heat of his flame dissipating from his fingertips. The last year had been nothing but fruitless—a desperate search among ruins for a people that were supposed to be wiped out.

But finding an airbender was his only chance to restore his honor. For his nation, for his family for his home—he had to try.

Zuko let his hands fall to his sides. He sat down, folding his legs beneath him in a lotus pose, and began taking in deep, measured breaths.

Maybe he was approaching the problem wrong, he thought, closing his eyes. Maybe attacking the door was not the way...

oOo

Lieutenant Jee groaned. "You've defeated me again, General. They should call you the Dragon of Pi Sho."

Iroh smiled. "You've gotten better, Lieutenant. This time it took at least an hour to beat you." The man was good, but too impatient. He only thought a few moves ahead, rather than waiting to spring the perfect trap.

Lieutenant Jee laughed, helping place the pieces back in their original positions. In a rather fortunate find, they had stumbled upon an entire intact Pi Sho table, its pieces still in various places... as if a game had been interrupted (it probably had; Iroh had noted with a frown the Fire Nation armor outside the room).

Iroh gazed out the window. A cool autumn breeze fluttered through. The sun was setting, sinking in between two mountain peaks. "It's getting late," Iroh remarked, sipping his tea. "I must go and check up on my nephew." (Surely, he had not been at that door this entire time?)

"I'll go with you," the lieutenant said, getting up. "Walking these hallways alone..." he shook his head, smiling nervously. "It gives me the creeps."

oOo

They found Zuko sitting down, facing the door. "Prince Zuko?" Iroh called out. The boy did not answer. He appeared to be in deep meditation.

The world rose and fell in steady breaths. He heard the voice of his uncle, but it came from far away, echoing from the bottom of a cavern. For the past hour Zuko had sat, contemplating over all the firebending he had learned in the past eight years. He reached down deep into his body, feeling the heat of his inner fire: that flickering force that warmed his very bones. He had always been taught that fire was an element of power, destructive and consuming. But for all its power the door still had not yielded. He needed to change his technique, channel his element differently.

Suddenly, something within him dislodged. Zuko's breaths became lighter; he felt like he was rising into the air.

Free.

Zuko opened his eyes. His heart hammered in his chest as he got back on his feet.

Iroh noticed the change in posture, the difference in his nephew's step. "Zuko, what are you doing?" he asked.

Zuko ignored him. He did not know what exactly he was doing, but he felt drawn to this new feeling. It was not the strong, warm power of fire. No, it was like the heated, shimmering air rising from the flame, soaring upwards into the sky. The exhilaration was in his blood. With one hand he mimicked the same sweeping motion he had made before.

But this time, instead of the familiar lick of heat against his arm, he was met with a whoosh of wind. The wind rushed out against the door, scattering the dust off the lock ...

... and with a click and an ancient creaking, the lock began to rotate.

Iroh stared. The doors yawned wide, a dark expanse within. His nephew was on the floor, knocked back from the gust that had come from his hand.

"...Zuko?"

Shaking from head to toe, the boy turned, meeting Iroh's gaze with wide golden eyes.

He could airbend.

oOo

Ursa paced back and forth in the palace corridors, worry creasing her brow. Outside, the air was cool, as it could only be at twilight in the tropics.

What she had seen—that scene of the water, rippling outward, almost in rhythm with her son's angry shouts—it ran through her mind incessantly, rushing like the rapids of a river, its noise suppressing any other thought.

If Zuko could bend more than one element, then that could mean only one thing: her son was the Avatar.

But how was that possible? Ursa paused in her pacing; she bit her lip. No. That wasn't important right now. What was important was protecting her son.

Her feet quickened and her grip tightened on her lantern as she headed down the corridor, her mind suddenly clear with determination. She knew what she had to do. She dared not share this secret with anyone; the fire sages were now but puppets of the Fire Lord, and the royal family... if Ozai ever found out about Zuko, he would kill him, or worse, twist him to his will (like he had already done to Azula), using the boy as fodder for his ambitions. She could not, would not, allow that to happen. Ursa had briefly considered confiding in Iroh... but no, any sympathies he had for balance and peace were surely erased in his current siege of Ba Sing Se.

And Yawen—the one friend she had trusted more than anyone, whom she found herself wishing desperately again and again could be back by her side—was dead.

She was alone.

Soon Ursa had arrived at her destination: the entrance to Zuko's bedchambers. Her breaths came out sharp and fast, and she hesitated, steadying herself. What she was going to have to do... it needed all her strength. She pushed open the door.

The room was dark, the curtains drawn. As her eyes adjusted, her gaze fell upon the small form curled up on the four-poster bed. She moved across the room, her footsteps swift and silent—fitting for a woman used to dealing with the dangers and subterfuges that came with palace life. Ursa paused by her son's bedside, setting her lantern down on his nightstand. Zuko's head was turned towards her. She cupped his cheek with one palm. His youthful features were made even softer in the warm glow of the lantern. It seemed nearly impossible that her boy, not even nine, was the bridge between the Spirits and humans, the being destined to bring balance to the world. That within his small frame was the power of all four elements.

She reached up and brushed his covers aside. The boy stirred but did not wake. Ursa stretched her hands, flexing her fingers in preparation. Ever since she was a little girl, on the island of Hira’a, she had been trained in the subtle art of chi-blocking. Yawen had insisted she join her in learning.  As nonbenders, Yawen had said, bubbly as always, we need to protect each other. We’ll learn together! And she had been dragged by the hand to the scraggly outcropping where the old master, Kaimana, lived.

A ghost of a smile flitted across Ursa’s face as she recalled the memories of her childhood. But the expression quickly faded into bitterness. Oh Yawen, Ursa thought, you taught me so much. If only I could’ve saved you.

But, no matter what, she would save her son.

Although she hardly had used chi-blocking since leaving Hira’a, as the palace guards provided more than enough protection, she never forgot how to use it.

"Benders rely on their body to channel their element,” Kaimana once said, "their chi, their life force, flows within their muscles and nerves. A chi-blocker can stem this flow to their advantage."

Ursa bent over Zuko, her hands working swiftly as she targeted the major points of chi and his chakras: his joints, his forehead, his throat, his chest, his stomach. While much of Ursa's training had been in combat chi-blocking, where one could remove a bender's abilities for a few hours, there had been finer methods, ones that could be hardly detected. If desired, one could weaken a bender, reducing the strength of their bending for weeks or months even.

“Never show your enemies your full power. Let them become weak from the inside out.”

It was meant to be used against foes, and yet, just like Yawen had, she found herself using it against her very own family.  

How ironic is that, Yawen?

Ursa replaced the covers, then straightened. Zuko's bending would be weaker now, hopefully weakened enough that he would only have the strength to wield fire. She would have to repeat the process in the coming months, but it would become more difficult as his power grew. She had never been as good as Yawen. There would come a day when he wouldn't be able to resist his bending any longer, but she could only pray that they had managed to escape the palace by then.

Ursa picked up the lantern once more; its flame was low on its wick. She stepped back, taking one last look at her son in the dimming light. Zuko's life would only become harder from now on; he would struggle even more with bending.

"It's not fair!" The words from earlier still stung. If only he knew…

"I'm sorry, Zuko…" Ursa whispered, her voice as faint as the light from the lantern. By the time she had crossed back to the door, the candle had extinguished.

In the darkness, no one could see the tears streaming down her cheeks.

oOo

The boy stared at his hands, as if they'd belonged to someone else.

"Prince Zuko—" Iroh began, hardly believing what he had seen, either. Beside him, Lieutenant Jee shifted uncertainly from foot to foot, his fists raised.

"No..." Zuko whispered, "no, it wasn't me, it wasn't me—!" his breaths came out shallow and fast.

"Calm yourself, Prince Zuko," Iroh said soothingly, stepping closer. At this the boy started.

"St-stay back!" he said, his voice hitching.

"Zuko, I'm only trying to help—"

"I said to stay back—!" frantically, he sent out a billowing wave of fire. Iroh crouched, blocking the blast with a rotation of his forearms. But by the time the smoke had cleared, Zuko was gone.

oOo

He slammed the door, his breaths heavy and ragged. Zuko hardly gave any notice to his surroundings: a small monk cell that had served as his living space for the past few days. His head swam as he collapsed onto his bed mat. What had just happened? He had been trying to open the sanctuary, and then... Zuko remembered the wind rushing between his fingers. No. That was impossible. He couldn't airbend—he was a firebender! Perhaps, perhaps—he had only heated the air, so that it just seemed like he had airbent.

But Zuko couldn't deny that feeling that had surfaced then...one of weightlessness...and of freedom.

He was an airbender.

But he was also a firebender.

So that meant... he was the Avat—

No. The Avatar was alive, an old man now, hidden within the walls of Ba Sing Se, the city's protector.

Unless he died, a voice hissed, like a dragon luring him to its den. Unless Avatar Huan died long ago.

Zuko clamped his hands over his ears, squeezing his eyes shut. No. He would know if he was the Avatar, wouldn't he? Wasn't the Avatar the master of all four elements?

Memories washed over Zuko: him in the palace courtyards, spending hours on a single form, trying and failing over and over... all while his sister taunted from the sidelines. Poor Zuzu.

Zuko suddenly felt the urge to laugh bubble within him. His firebending was hardly anything compared with Azula's blue flames. To think he was a master bender—! He could not be the Avatar if he had not even mastered fire.

There was a knock. Zuko jerked his head away, recoiling from the door.

"Prince Zuko, we need to talk," came the gravelly voice of his uncle through the wood.

oOo

There was no answer. Iroh sighed, leaning against the door. His bones were laden with exhaustion from chasing down his nephew. He had treated the last year as an early retirement of sorts. He never expected to actually find an airbender, much less the Avatar. He was too old for this.

Tentatively, Iroh opened the door. Zuko avoided Iroh's gaze as he entered. He was sitting down on his bed mat, his face turned so only his good side could be seen.

Iroh settled himself down on the floor, his joints groaning with the movement. "Prince Zuko, what I saw out there...there can only be one explanation.”

Zuko still stared out the window. "What you saw," he answered, voice wavering, "was nothing. I know what I think you saw, uncle...but it isn't true. I can't be—"

"And yet you are," Iroh said gently, "Prince Zuko, you are the Avatar."

At this Zuko turned towards Iroh, face twisted both by his scar and his pain. "That—that's not possible!" he yelled, "the Avatar is alive, living in Ba Sing Se!"

Iroh paused. In the dusk, his face seemed ancient. "During my first siege of Ba Sing Se," he began, "there was a great battle between my troops and Avatar Huan. The Avatar was greatly injured, but we had suffered even greater casualties, and we were forced to retreat. Avatar Huan disappeared, thought to have barricaded himself in the inner walls of Ba Sing Se. That was fourteen years ago. Then, five years ago, I led the second siege of Ba Sing Se, in hopes of reaching the Avatar. It was a great failure." He closed his eyes, the memories threatening to overwhelm him. But now the past was colored with the knowledge of the present. Iroh had lost Lu Ten during that second siege...was his life in vain?

Iroh shook his head. No. He couldn't dwell in regret or cast blame; he needed to focus on his nephew. Meeting Zuko's golden eyes with his own, he said, "The Avatar died fourteen years ago in that battle, Prince Zuko... making you the Avatar."

As Iroh spoke the anger from Zuko’s features slipped away, forgotten. His face underwent a series of emotions: confusion, shock, fear, and then, finally, resignation. His shoulders slumped as the weight of his uncle’s words sunk in. He believed him. He stared at the floor for a long time. The chilled air seemed to still. Iroh waited with bated breath—what was his nephew thinking? Then, the boy looked up, and to Iroh's surprise, there was hope glimmering in his golden eyes.

"But uncle...it doesn't matter, does it? I'm an airbender, right? I’ve found an airbender! Then—then...my search is over! I can go home!"

Iroh's expression hardened. He leaned over, reaching out and seizing Zuko's shoulders as he stared directly into the boy's eyes. Desperate longing fluttered within his gaze.

Why had the Spirits chosen such a boy? One who needed a home more than anything?

Iroh’s gaze was resolute, but his voice betrayed bitterness. "No, nephew," he said, "you can never go home. You must follow your destiny, as the Avatar, and master the four elements."

Zuko wrenched himself from Iroh's grip, rising. "My destiny?!" he spat, "What do you know of my destiny?! My destiny is to restore my honor! And now—I have that chance! You would have me throw it away, uncle, for some ancient tradition?!"

"Prince Zuko,” Iroh said slowly, carefully, “going back home would not be the welcoming you think it would be. The Fire Lord would use your powers for his advantage, to further destroy this world. It is your duty to make sure that doesn't happen."

His nephew raised a shaking finger at him. "My duty is to the Fire Nation! You would have me betray my country, my family?! Just what I should've suspected, from a lazy, mistrustful old man like yourself!"

Iroh gazed up at Zuko, his face betraying no indignation at his nephew's words, only weariness, and a tinge of sadness. "I have seen many things in my travels, nephew," he said, "many things you would not understand. But if I have learned anything, it is that there needs to be balance. The Avatar is the only one who can restore—"

"I don't care about that…!" Zuko protested, shaking his head violently as he pressed down on both sides of his skull with his palms, "I don't care if my father will use me for the war, if it's the only way I can regain my honor and prove myself loyal to the Fire Nation…" he turned to glare at his uncle, gaze suddenly fierce, "then I'll do it."

"Zuko—"

"Inform Lieutenant Jee and the crew, and prepare the war balloons," Zuko's voice, laced with anger, was now steady, "tonight we set off for the Fire Nation." he stormed ahead.

Quicker than Zuko could blink, Iroh stood in a firm firebending stance, blocking his way. He wanted nothing more than to hold the boy in his arms. Comfort him. But Zuko was like a dragon, coiled and ready to strike.  

"I will not let you, Prince Zuko." he said. He had held some small hope that he would be able to convince his nephew... but it seemed that he would have to resort to force in the end. Silently Iroh cursed. It was not his way of doing things.

Involuntarily, Zuko took a step back, his unburned eye wide. Then his expression darkened. "Get out of my way, uncle," he growled.

"I did not want it to come to this, nephew."

"I said get out of my way—!" he screamed, and he shot both hands forward. Fire blasted from his palms, larger and hotter than anything he had bent before. Iroh grunted, ducking. Unprepared for the intense explosion, it was only his reflexes, honed from years of battle, that enabled him to roll away without getting singed.

Iroh got back on his feet, ready to block the next blow—but none came. Zuko had vanished. Where the wooden door had once been there was nothing but smoldering embers and ash.

oOo

Lieutenant Jee crouched next to his fellow naval officers on the hard stone floor of a temple room. The debris had been cleared to make room for a makeshift fire, whose warmth kept at bay the chill of the autumn night. The flames illuminated Jee’s face, etching fine shadows along his worry lines. The shadows deepened with his frown.

He had just informed his men, (that is, the ones who had come up to the temple with Prince Zuko and Iroh in the war balloons) about what had occurred. As the navymen always did whenever something upsetting happened, they would hash it out over a good meal and a campfire. Their hushed discussion drifted upwards with the smoke:

"He airbent?!"

"I always thought something was off about that spoiled prince..."

"Do you think he's a bastard, then?"

"He's got to be... there's no way an airbender could have originated from the Fire Nation bloodline…"

"You are forgetting something," Jee said without warning, breaking out of his reverie. His men quieted, listening with rapt attention as Jee continued. "The prince is a firebender as well... have you ever seen someone bend more than one element?"

The soldiers turned amongst themselves. "Then that means—"

"But that's impossible, the Avatar is still alive!"

"He's hiding in Ba Sing Se, the coward—"

"Well, I don't believe it!" retorted Shirai, who was seventeen and barely out of military training. "How do we know for sure that you saw airbending? The air could've been hot... or the blast could've been unusually strong!"

There were murmurs of agreement.

"I know what I saw," Jee said quietly, "Prince Zuko had been blasting that door for hours, and it still didn't open. It could only yield to an airbender." Jee had to admit, if he hadn't been there to witness it, he wouldn't believe his story either. But he couldn't deny that gust of wind; he could feel bruises forming on his back from when he had been knocked down by the blow.

The anguished face of the prince surfaced in his mind. Although the boy was as bratty as they come, surely, he didn't deserve this fate?

...And what did this mean for his crew?

Footsteps sounded outside, rapid, and uneven. Every man's head swiveled towards the door. "Stay here," Jee ordered, straightening. Summoning a globe of fire in his hand, Jee crossed the room and peered outside. "Who's there?" he called out into the night.

Breaths, tight and labored, echoed across the corridor. Suddenly, Iroh came into view, clutching his side.

"General Iroh!" Lieutenant Jee rushed beside the man. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"Prince Zuko," Iroh panted, "left. I must go after him and find him…"

Lieutenant Jee's brow furrowed as he made his way swiftly back to his men. They scrambled to attention as he threw the door open; it was evident that they had been eavesdropping.

"Well boys," Jee announced, "here's the chance to see the truth for yourselves."

oOo

Zuko sprinted down the temple corridors. His heart constricted, squeezed by his ribcage with each breath.

His uncle had tried to stop him. He had betrayed him. Just like everyone else.

Zuko swallowed a sob, concentrating instead on the thudding of his feet against the floor. The stars broke through the moonless sky overhead, though their efforts were futile. The dim pinpricks of light emanated hardly anything against the swelling darkness.

Zuko was truly alone.

He skidded to a halt. Damn. Another dead end. Zuko stomped his foot in frustration. As a firebender, Zuko's eyesight was already weak at night. But coupled with the temple's maze of corridors, twisting and turning on themselves, their destinations swallowed in night, he was hopelessly lost. His chances of escaping seemed to dwindle by each second.

He turned and tore down the next corridor. But instead of finding the war balloons, he found himself face to face with the last place he wanted to be.

The sanctuary. Ahead, the darkness seemed to coalesce, as if it was drawn to the sanctuary. It was like he was back in the Fire Nation, standing on the precipice of a dormant volcano, peering within the caldera. The door was buried within the gloam at the center of the crater. Cold and daunting but not quite dead. No. Within the shadow of its silence slept a burning power.

If Zuko squinted, he thought he could make out shapes in the gloom. They seemed to shift within... almost like they were calling to him…

"Zuko!" he started, whirling around. His uncle stood before him. His flames cast a flickering glow in the corridor, revealing the soldiers at the ready behind him.

"You must listen to me!" Iroh pleaded. "Stop this madness at once!"

Zuko stepped forward out of the shadows. He tried to summon a commanding voice, but the sound died in his throat. Voices, distant like wind on the mountains, whispered in his ears. Be quiet, please be quiet. But only more joined, their words lingering on the edge of comprehension. They were urgent, warning.

"No…" he whimpered in a lonely voice, almost like a dying animal, "Just let me go home, uncle, I want to go home…" Tears slipped down his scarred face, which shined wet in the firelight. The voices picked up, blending and whirling. Avatar…

"Zuko, it's late, you need your rest…"

"I WANT TO GO HOME!" Zuko screamed, but his voice no longer was his own. It was layered with a thousand voices, all in agony. His eyes, once golden and tear-ridden, now stared unseeingly with an unearthly glowing white. All at once in the sanctuary, thousands of eyes lit up, piercing the darkness with their brilliance.

The air whipped around him, lifting Zuko off the ground. Iroh slid backwards; behind him the soldiers had flown off their feet. If he didn't do something soon, they all might end up plummeting to their deaths. Iroh needed to stop his nephew—no, he thought, shielding his eyes from the raging gale with one hand, gazing up at the form suspended by the winds, surrounded by glowing eyes… that was no longer his nephew. That was the Avatar.

He grasped onto the edge of a wall; it was all he could do from being blown away. "Zuko!" he called, but the words were torn away from him by the howling wind.

Iroh needed to get closer. He took in one deep breath and let it out in the form of heat. Flames burst from his hands. He directed his palms behind him, the sudden explosion shooting him forward. He was nearly upon the boy. Just a few more steps...Iroh sucked in another breath, and this time fire erupted from beneath his feet. He barreled directly into the gale.

"Zuko!" he called, squinting up at the boy above him. The light from the sanctuary was nearly blinding. "Zuko, if you're in there, please, you must calm down!"

Iroh felt his voice break. "Please...” he bowed his head, unable to look any longer, “I don't want to lose another son…" His shoulders shook.

The wind began to slow. The light from the sanctuary began to dim.

The glow from Zuko's eyes began to fade, and gradually, he began to drift downwards, back to the ground.

Iroh reached up. The boy fell, limp and unconscious, into his uncle's awaiting arms.

The wind had ceased.

"It is alright Zuko," Iroh murmured into the boy's chest. His skin was ice to the touch. Iroh gripped him even tighter. "I'm here."

"Well," said Lieutenant Jee grimly as his men picked themselves off the ground, "I hope that dispelled any doubts."

oOo

"This better be important," grumbled Zhao, shoving aside the officers who were crowding the port side of the ship.

"There!" The helmsman pointed. The night was clear, so one could see far into the horizon. At least fifty leagues away, the shadows of the Patola Mountains loomed like giant sentinels. Near the top of one peak, a beam of white light broke through, searingly bright.

Zhao stared. "The airbenders' temple," he gasped, then smirked.

This was quite interesting.

Chapter Text

Book One: Air

Chapter Two: The Storm

Morning broke through clear and bright, casting a golden light on the floor where a boy lay prone, deeply asleep. He remained unconscious to the waking world around him even as the sun played upon his scarred face.

Despite the cloudless sky, Iroh was not fooled. He could feel within his bones that a storm was coming. They'd have to move out soon.

He glanced over at his nephew, concern lining his face. It was very unusual for Zuko to be sleeping in past sunrise (firebenders, dependent upon the sun for strength, were attuned to its movements), but, then again, that night had been very unusual indeed.

He turned over the events of the night before as he turned over a White Lotus chip in his hand, worrying it between two fingers.

The biting wind whirled around, encircling the boy. His deadly white eyes stared as he screamed.

Being the Avatar was a very heavy responsibility for anyone, but for Zuko? His nephew's reaction last night—his desperation to return to the side of the man who had taken everything from him—was proof that the boy was scarred deeper than the burn on his face. Were the Spirits punishing him with this fate?

Iroh took one last look at his nephew, then with a sigh got up. Slipping through the doorway, his feet disturbed the ashes of the wooden door, which had been destroyed the previous night. Outside, he was met by Lieutenant Jee, who snapped to attention.

"Sir?" the man asked. It was clear from the shadows beneath the Lieutenant's eyes that he hadn't gotten much sleep either.

"Ready the crew and the war balloons, Lieutenant Jee. We shall leave the temple this morning." It was no longer safe to stay at the Air Temple; the light that had emanated from the sanctuary was bright enough to be seen from miles away, and chances were, it had been seen. The sooner they left, the better.

"And... Prince Zuko, General Iroh?" Jee said tentatively.

"He shall rest until it is time to depart," Iroh answered. It was better to let the boy sleep; he would need the strength for the journey ahead.

"Sir—"

"That is all, Lieutenant. You are dismissed."

Lieutenant Jee opened his mouth as if to protest—thousands of questions must’ve been jumping on his tongue—but then he bowed and left.

Iroh watched Jee's retreating figure, turning the Pi Sho piece over once again in his hand. He would need to have a discussion with his crew soon or risk a mutiny.

oOo

"Zuko—!" A voice was laughing, full of warmth.

"Not now," he mumbled, rolling over.

"It is time to wake up, sleepyhead. We have an appearance before Fire Lord Azulon in an hour." A ghost of a hand brushed his forehead.

"Alright…" but he didn't move. His limbs were comfortable and heavy.

The woman's voice unexpectedly became alarmed. "Zuko…!" her words became faint and hollow, as if she was falling, falling away into the depths of a dark pool...

"Never forget who you are!"

Zuko sat bolt upright. "Mom?" he gasped. He blinked. The sun shone directly on his face; outside birds stirred. He wiped cold sweat from his cheek. It was just a dream.

He untangled himself from his mess of blankets and straightened up, surveying the position of the sun in the sky. It was half past ten. Had he really slept in that long? Why hadn't anyone waked him—the day, it was nearly wasted! Cursing, Zuko strode out the doorway, the brilliant morning banishing any remembrances of the night before.

The corridor was empty… his uncle and crew nowhere to be seen. Despite the brightness of the sun, the autumn air was crisp and cool, and it seemed to clear Zuko's head. As he strolled, no real destination in mind, he discovered his steps had a lightness to them. A lightness he hadn’t felt in years, a lightness absent of mistakes and responsibility. The paths of the temple opened to him, welcoming him. Perhaps sleeping in had done him some good.

And then, with a final twist, he found himself in front of the sanctuary again. All in a rush, the night before came to light. He swallowed, a lump forming in the back of his throat. A dull throbbing of a headache began to form at his temples.

The last thing he remembered was standing in front of these doors, screaming...and then everything became blinding white.

Zuko edged closer into the sanctuary. Although the figures inside were less foreboding in the day, he still felt that pull towards the room just as strongly as he had the night before. He crossed the threshold.

The room was circular and tall, its ceiling extended several stories up. A shaft of light filtered down from a window high above, revealing the thick dust in the air—and the statues. Zuko sucked in a breath. Carved from stone, they spiraled outward from the center of the room and up, snaking along the walls.

He approached the statue in the center of the sanctuary. The light fell nearly directly behind the figure, throwing the grooves of the statue in deep shadow. It was a man with a long beard, standing tall in Fire Nation clothing. Part of his hair done up in the traditional top knot. Zuko looked to the next statue. A young woman, even taller than the man after her, was dressed in Earth Kingdom armor. Her hands were poised, wielding two fans with a delicate ferocity. The next statue was a Water Tribe warrior with a polar bear dog skin draped over his head. Following him, a woman with airbending tattoos.

Fire, earth, water, air—these are the Avatars, Zuko realized with a jolt. He glanced back up at the Fire Nation statue. Then this must be Avatar Roku...

"Prince Zuko, there you are," the familiar voice sounded behind him. Zuko didn't turn around, instead directing his gaze upward. The statue of Roku wore an elegant hair piece, shaped in the Fire Nation insignia. Zuko involuntarily touched his own phoenix tail. He would recognize that hair piece anywhere. It belonged to the crown prince.

"He was friends with Fire Lord Sozin, you know," said his uncle, touching his shoulder.

Zuko didn't answer. He closed his eyes, and behind his eyelids the white light burned.

"It wasn't a dream."

"No, I am afraid not, Prince Zuko." Iroh looked past the statue of Avatar Roku to the empty spaces in the middle of the spiral, where the statues of the next Avatars were to be erected: the airbending boy, slaughtered in the genocide a hundred years ago, dead before the world knew his name; the waterbending woman, Hama, hunted down in the Southern Water Tribe raids; the Earth Kingdom man, Huan, succumbed to injuries from battling fifty Fire Nation soldiers; and finally, his nephew, the son of the Fire Lord.

Would the boy be able to bear such a burden?

"Uncle," Zuko said, turning to face him, hesitant, "what happened last night? I remember a flash of light…" he clutched his head, as if struck by sudden pain.

"You entered the Avatar State, my nephew. It is when you channel all of your past lives," Iroh motioned with a sweep of his sleeves to the statues surrounding them, "becoming a being of immense power."

Zuko's eyes darted from statue to statue, then down at his fingertips. It seemed unlikely that he held the past Avatars' strength within him; he felt as useless as always: just a disfigured, banished, weak prince.

Iroh touched his shoulder again, breaking the boy out of his brooding. "Come, Prince Zuko," he said. "It is time to leave. The crew is waiting."

Zuko stood still for what seemed like an eternity. When he finally moved to follow his uncle, his footsteps were heavy again.

oOo

Commander Zhao lowered the telescope, lip curling. Fire Nation war balloons were descending from the Southern Air Temple, down to a single ship waiting at the bottom. If the Fire Nation was involved, then something very interesting had occurred indeed.

"Set engines at full speed, and follow that Fire Nation ship," Zhao barked to his men, "make sure to keep to the cliffs." Even with the engines at full speed, it would take half a day to catch up with the ship. But Zhao was willing to wait for his prize. The rumors must be true: the airbenders weren't completely extinct. And if his instincts were right, that ship would lead him right to one. He flexed his fingers in anticipation.

Glory was his.

oOo

As the war balloons landed on The Wani’s deck, the ship rocked, bobbing up and down with the cliffside waves. Zuko recoiled as saltwater sprayed down upon them, but the rest of the crew looked nothing but relieved to be away from the peaks of the Southern Air Temple. Shouts rang out as the crew members who had been left behind on the ship rushed to greet Lieutenant Jee and his officers.

Iroh cleared his throat, and the navymen quieted, "While much has happened at the Air Temple," he said, "now is not a time to discuss it. We are all very tired, and so we shall stop at Kyoshi Island for food, supplies, and rest before continuing."

The crew broke out in cheers. They had been living off nothing but sea biscuits and rations for the past week.

Lieutenant Jee nodded, standing with crossed arms. His expression was stern. It was clear he expected answers... and he wasn't the only one.

"Uncle, what are you—" Zuko objected, but Iroh cut him off.

"Not now, nephew. You need your rest as well...” he clasped a hand on Zuko’s shoulder, “besides, I think you will like it at Kyoshi Island; I have heard their girls are very beautiful." Iroh winked, and Zuko scowled.

But he relented. "I'm going to my rooms," he growled, stalking away.

oOo

Suki crouched, peering through the underbrush. She watched what could only be a Fire Nation ship cut through the waters of the bay, approaching at an alarming rate. Behind her, her fellow warriors waited for her command.

"Prepare for ambush," Suki ordered. The warriors whipped out their weapons: fans, light and razor sharp. "It appears to only be one ship. We can take them." And she prayed they could, for they were the only force left to protect their village; if they didn't succeed, then…

Suki swallowed her fear. Their village was on the northwestern side of the island, not often reached by trade routes due to its remoteness. They had been lucky enough to have never witnessed a Fire Nation attack, but the stories from the other villagers, and from the pirates who occasionally went out of their way to supply them with goods, were enough warning. The Fire Nation was ruthless, burning down anything in their path. She wouldn’t let them do the same to her village.

She tightened her grip on her own fan, catching a glimpse of her own reflection in its surface. The fate of her girls, her village, rested on her shoulders.

oOo

The hawk curled its talons around Iroh's forearm as he slipped the letter, rolled in a tight scroll, into the bird's sling. It squawked, flapping its wings, before taking off into the clear blue sky.

If the winds were sure, then that letter would reach King Bumi, who was closest to their position, and then it would be distributed to the rest of the Order of the White Lotus, informing them of the Avatar. In the coming months, Iroh would have to rely on them if they wanted to have a chance at winning the war.

Once they left Kyoshi Island, they would head north to Jeong Jeong's camp. The boy still needed to work on his firebending. And then they would make their way to Ba Sing Se, where Zuko could learn airbending in safety; Iroh hoped that the airbending scrolls they had scavenged from the temples would be sufficient. From there... Iroh was at a loss. He hadn’t heard from Pakku since the most recent raid on the Northern Water Tribe six years ago. He could only pray the man was alive—it wasn’t like there were any other waterbending masters to learn from. The South Pole was nothing but empty tundra.

The soft thump of the ship shook Iroh out of his reverie; they had reached land. Iroh had planned to sail for most of the day until they arrived at one of the more well-known ports, but unexpectedly, across the strait between the Patola mountains and Kyoshi Island, they had spotted smoke wafting above the treeline. The village was small and isolated enough to not appear on any official Fire Nation maps, but the crew was happy with their discovery. The sooner they landed the sooner they got to eat, and the sooner they could avoid the storm on the horizon.

Water lapped at The Wani’s hull. The crew bustled around, preparing to dock the ship. Trees towered from the nearby shore; they seemed to surround their vessel like Earth Kingdom troops.

Zuko emerged from the cabin as the men lowered the ramp. “Uncle, why are we landing so soon—” But before he could finish, there was a cry,

"Now!"

Dozens of armored women leapt from the trees and onto the ship. Their boots thudded against the ship like hail. They swooped upon the unprepared soldiers, slicing the air with their fans.

One charged directly at his nephew, her painted face contorted in rage. Zuko yelled, throwing a fistful of flame at her, but she waved it away with a whirr of her fan. "Filthy firebenders!" she snarled, swiping the air near his ear.

"No!" Iroh grunted as he ducked, narrowly avoiding the edge of one girl's fan, "Do not use force, we do not want to hurt them—" but his voice was drowned in the sea of battle cries. The deck had become a blur of green and red.

Zuko weaved in between her fans as the woman lunged. Her fans slashed at every moment he made, forcing him back against the cabin. He couldn't see, he needed an opening—there! He shot his foot forward—she stumbled backwards—and then with a single sidestep he was behind her. With one movement he twisted her arms behind her and had her pressed against the wall of the ship. He raised his flame, concentrated into a blowtorch-like dagger, towards her face, breathing heavily.

"STOP!" Iroh bellowed, and with a ring-like burst of flames he cleared the deck, sending the navymen and women flying against the ship walls. "We do not wish to fight," he said, his voice now calm, "Let us resupply and rest in your village and then we will be on our way."

"And why should we believe you?" spat the woman who was pinned against the wall, still struggling in Zuko's grip. "You're Fire Nation."

Iroh looked at her with a steady gaze. "Call off your warriors, and we will not harm your village." he said kindly.

The woman's eyes darted back and forth, surveying the state of the scene. Her warriors were knocked down or disarmed, fans scattered across the deck. It made no difference if the Fire Nation soldiers entered her village; they were already defeated. If the woman was wise, she'd comply.

"We will pay you for everything, of course," Iroh added, lifting a generous pouch of coins.

The woman finally broke free. She shoved past Zuko and stepped forwards. Her head was held high. "Fine," she said through gritted teeth, motioning for her warriors to get up, "Follow me."

oOo

"Forgive me, young lady, but I did not catch your name," huffed Iroh, trailing behind the women warriors as they led his crew through the forest.

"I am Suki, leader of the Kyoshi Warriors," said the woman stiffly as she strode ahead, as if even surrendering this information betrayed the very Earth Kingdom itself. Her fists remained clenched around her fans.

They entered a large clearing. Before them towered a wooden statue. Paint peeling and wood weathered, it depicted a woman dressed in the same armored kimono as Suki and her warriors. Zuko's good eye widened in sudden recognition.

"The Avatar," he breathed.

Suki's head snapped towards him, and her mouth opened, like she was going to retort, but she quickly shut it and turned back arounds. She led them through the village gate in silence.

oOo

The men had situated themselves in an inn. Chatter and raucous laughter rang out as food was laid out on the long table.

"Zuko, come, sit down, enjoy the food!" his uncle called from the head of the table.

He leaned against the doorway, arms crossed. What were they doing here?! They should already be back on the ship, making their way towards the Fire Nation capital, to his father. Words from the day before settled in the pit of his stomach: "You can never go home."

Zuko flung an arm out, a small arc of fire appearing and then dissipating. What did his uncle know?! He was the Avatar now, not some useless prince!

Immense power. He could ensure victory for the Fire Nation and end the One Hundred Year War, and he was forced to dawdle in some fishing village?!

"You must try this ginseng tea, Prince Zuko! It would calm your mind," Iroh offered.

He glowered at his uncle. The last thing he needed now was to be calm. He stormed off, out of the inn and through the village. Useless, they were all useless! The villagers cowered as he went by, but he gave no notice to his surroundings until he realized he had left the village entirely. Thick forestry surrounded him, the foliage concealing the sky overhead and muffling any sound. The path was now fainter and choked with weeds, but he continued down it, his fury crushing any plant underfoot.

Soon, the forest widened into a clearing. He blinked. Before him, there was a small building situated on the top of a grassy hill. The deep blue of the ocean could be seen just beyond the building, glittering in the afternoon sun. Though the stone was mossy and old, the place looked well-maintained. It was inviting in its quaintness. Somehow, he found himself drawing closer. That soft, gentle lure, same as at the sanctuary, was there, urging him forwards. It felt familiar, like the palace garden path to the turtle duck pond. His foot was just on the threshold of the building when a voice pierced the lull.

"What do you think you're doing?!" Zuko nearly jumped. He swiveled. The girl, Suki, stood behind him, lowered in a fighting stance.

"Snooping around, seeking to burn the shrine—” she sneered, “just what I should've suspected from a firebender!"

Zuko's lips twitched upwards in a smirk. "What, looking for a rematch?" he taunted.

With a flick of her wrists and a snick, Suki's fans opened. "Bring it," she said. Above, the sky was darkening, and thunder rumbled distantly.

He launched himself at her, fists wreathed in flame, but this time Suki was prepared. She ducked and dodged, her fans ready to block at each thrust. Her feet were nimble and sure on the grassy terrain. She inched ever closer as Zuko's breaths quickened and his muscles grew heavier. Damn. The exhaustion from the night before was finally catching up to him. His movements slowed.

Then, quick as a cat mouse, Suki vaulted up behind, onto one of the building's pillars, and flew down upon him. Suddenly, the edge of her fan was against his neck.

"Hah," she said triumphantly into his ear, "Not so tough, are you?"

Zuko winced, groping at his neck. "Let—me—go!"

"Why should I?" The fan dug into his skin. Drops of rain began to fall from the heavy clouds overhead. "You firebending men are all the same. Just kill and burn, with no care to whom you hurt. That's why I became a Kyoshi Warrior. I swore I would never let my village burn like the others."

"I'm not trying to—burn—anything! I was just—curious—!" beads of blood were beginning to form on his neck.

"Why would you be curious about Kyoshi's shrine?" Suki scoffed.

"I've—I’ve seen her before—! I've seen Kyoshi!" he choked out.

Suki's grip loosened. She backed away as Zuko hunched over, coughing. "You've seen Avatar Kyoshi?" she said in disbelief. "That's impossible! She's been dead for four hundred years!"

Zuko wiped his neck with the back of his hand, smearing blood across his fingertips. The rain was falling heavier now; he felt rivulets run through his hair. "At the Southern Air Temple, there was a statue of her," he said, "she looked just like your statue."

Suki crossed her arms. "What were you doing at the Southern Air Temple?" she asked, eyes narrowing through her smudging makeup.

"Nothing," he lied, "We're just—explorers for the Fire Nation, gathering old airbending scrolls."

She stared at him in suspicion, clearly not accepting his story. But then she sighed, holding out a hand. "Here," she said, helping him to his feet, "let's get you cleaned up. It's not good to stay out here in the rain." She tugged on his arm and led him into the building.

"let's get you cleaned up. It's not good to stay out here in the rain." She tugged on his arm and led him into the building.

The air smelled faintly of dust and wet earth. The shrine had only one room, but the space was full; its walls were adorned with flowing tapestries and various weapons. Unable to help himself, Zuko gazed around in wonderment.

"Hey," Suki nudged him. She reached into her kimono, pulling out a white cloth and handing it to him. "Use this."

Zuko snatched the cloth from her. Wiping his neck absentmindedly, he ambled over to a display of fans. Their metal was dull, and their edges rusted. "…These all belonged to Avatar Kyoshi?" he asked.

"Yes," Suki replied. With her makeup washed away, she seemed less intimidating. Younger. "Us warriors have preserved her legacy," she gazed up at a tapestry of Kyoshi surrounded by villagers. The rain sounded soft on the roof overhead.

"Did you know she had the biggest feet of all the Avatars?" she spoke suddenly, bending over. She pointed to a pair of boots.

Zuko raised an eyebrow at the comment. Really...? trying to be subtle, he nudged his foot forward. Indeed, the boots were bigger than his own feet.

"Women then were expected to bind their feet, but not Kyoshi! She refused to follow stereotypes!" she laughed a little, but soon stifled the sound. Her eyes grew wistful. "She's my greatest hero. I wish the Earth Avatar now was a little more like her."

Zuko glanced at her. "What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.

"Well, Kyoshi was always there for her people. She was quite formidable, protecting the entire Earth Kingdom from invasions. She even stopped Chin the Conqueror," Suki's face fell, "But the Avatar now is not like that. He's hiding, letting the Fire Nation continue to kill and colonize. He's abandoned his people."

Something twinged inside Zuko. Abandonment... but he didn't have any ties to the Earth Kingdom, so why should he be concerned? Zuko internally scoffed at the thought. His loyalty lay with the Fire Nation: his country and home. If anything, his banishment proved he had abandoned the Fire Nation instead…

Just then, a Kyoshi Warrior appeared in the doorway. "Suki!" she cried, out of breath, "another Fire Nation ship has docked in the harbor! You must come quickly!"

Suki whirled upon Zuko. "You led them here!" she accused, her fan aimed at his chest.

"No, I—"

"There's no time to lose!" the girl cut in, "You must come with me now!"

Suki glared at him, "I'll deal with you later," she said, and then she was out the door.

Zuko cursed as he sprinted after the girls, the rain pelting his skin.

oOo

He burst into the inn, narrowing his eyes at the man standing near the doorway. "Captain Zhao," he said in distaste.

The man smirked, his hands behind his back in a seemingly benign manner. "It's commander now, Prince Zuko."

Suki gasped, backing away from Zuko's side. Prince Zuko?  she mouthed.

Zuko ignored her. "What are you doing here?" he growled.

"I could ask the same of you," Zhao replied. "Why don't you join me and your uncle for a drink?" he motioned to Iroh, who was seated nearby.

Zuko averted his gaze, wheeling around. "Sorry, but we must be going."

"Prince Zuko, show Commander Zhao your respect," Iroh said, tone dangerously level, "Come, sit."

His hands twitched, but Zuko relented. He dropped himself down on a cushion at the table. Iroh passed him a cup of tea and hissed, "Do not say anything rash, my nephew."

"So," said Zhao casually, "how has your search for an airbender been going?"

"We have not found one yet," Iroh answered. Zuko opened his mouth in protest, but his uncle silenced him with a hard stare.

"Did you really expect to? All of the airbenders died a hundred years ago," Zhao leaned in across the table, leering, "unless you have found some evidence that an airbender is alive?"

"No," Iroh said, "nothing."

A soldier entered the room. "Commander Zhao, we searched their ship as you instructed," he said, "there's no sign of any captive airbender."

"What?!" Zhao shot up, sending out a flare of fire in frustration. "Where is he?!" he shouted. "I saw the light from the Air Temple; I know you have an airbender. Now where are you hiding him?!" The man suddenly grinned. He alighted a fist, holding up an orb of rushing flame to a nearby beam. "It's funny how fragile these buildings are," he said softly, "one spark and the whole structure goes up in flames."

"No!" Suki cried, lunging, but she was held back by two of Zhao's guards.

Iroh stood up as well. "We do not need to involve these people, Commander Zhao.”

Zhao raised an eyebrow. "Oh, I think we do. One word and my men will set this village aflame. But hand over the airbender and we will leave immediately."

"I said we do not have—"

"Lies! Let this serve as a warning—" at that moment Zhao let out a roar of fury, hurling a fireball straight at Suki. She cowered, turning her face away—

"NO—!"

Zuko leaped in between them. He swept his hands in front of the flame, releasing a gust of wind. The fire extinguished harmlessly.

Zhao's mouth dropped open. The soldiers froze; Suki lifted her head in astonishment. "The Avatar," she breathed.

Zhao recovered. "Well, well, well," he said, grinning broadly, "this is quite unexpected."

"Yes, I'm the Avatar," Zuko snapped, "promise not to harm these people and I'll give you the honor of escorting me back to my father."

"But of course," he said, bowing, "it would give me the greatest pleasure to return the banished prince to his rightful place on the throne."

"Zuko, what are you doing?!" Iroh stepped in front of him, but Zuko shrugged him off.

"Don't try to stop me, uncle. I must return to my father's side."

"This is not your dest—"

"Excellent!" Zhao clapped his hands. "It's settled then. Prince Zuko, come with me. Guards," he called outside, and ten of his men rushed in the building. "Detain General Iroh until we board the ship safely." The soldiers seized upon Iroh, pinning his hands behind his back.

"Prince Zuko! Think about what you are doing!" Iroh shouted after him.

Zuko ignored him, setting his eyes straight ahead as he went out in the downpour.

oOo

Iroh grunted. Enough of this foolishness. "Have you ever heard about how I became known as the Dragon of the West?" he asked his captors conversationally.

One soldier scratched underneath his helmet. "Well, no, I—"

"Then I'll show you," he breathed in, then bellowed out a sweeping jet of flames. The men cried out, falling back, and Iroh, with sudden agility, leapt over them and to Suki. With two quick punches, both men holding her collapsed. "Come on," he urged, "we cannot let them get away!"

Suki faltered. The Avatar was a Fire Nation prince! But if the Avatar fell into the Fire Nation's hands… then it was all over. "Right," she finally sprang up, following him.

The men behind them yelled as they clambered to their feet, but Iroh and Suki didn't pause. They raced through the village. "Kyoshi Warriors, to the bay!" Suki called out to her girls. More women fell in line as they exited the village and down the path to the harbor. Zhao's soldiers were on their heels.

The trees opened up—Iroh and the Kyoshi Warriors rushed out onto the beach, ready to attack—but Zhao and Zuko had already boarded.

"You're too late, General Iroh," the commander sneered. "It seems that in your old age you have become weak. Not even a traitorous fool like yourself can stop me. Men!" he motioned to his soldiers, who shoved past Iroh and Suki's warriors, storming up the ramp. As soon as the last one stepped onto the ship, the ramp retreated, and the ship began to move. Zhao stared at them triumphantly as the ship pulled away from shore.

The air permeated with the sounds of their heaving breaths and the constant assailment of rain. "Well, what are we going to do now?" panted Suki as she watched Zhao's ship get smaller and smaller.

"I shall follow them in my own ship. But you need to stay behind with your warriors. Your village needs your strength," Iroh placed a hand on her shoulder.

Suki swallowed. A few hours ago, she would've been appalled to be working alongside a Fire Nation general—the man her warriors had attacked! But Iroh had respected her village and defended her against Zhao's soldiers. And when it came to the Avatar... it was more important to put aside their differences.

She nodded, "thank you for your help," she said, bowing, "Our village is in your debt."

Iroh bowed back, smiling. "No, I am sorry that we brought war to your home. Under better circumstances, I would have loved to get to know you better.” He then paused, reaching into his sleeve. He held out a small wooden token. Suki blinked. She never had time to play games, but even she recognized it as a Pai Sho tile.

“A symbol of my gratitude,” Iroh placed the tile in her palm. “At the right time, present this, and you will know where to find me.”

Suki stared at the small token. A simple flower was painted on its surface. A lotus. Millions of questions lingered on her tongue, but there was no time. “Thank you.” Suki curled her finger around the tile, “May the earth be firm beneath your feet,” She added in the traditional Earth Kingdom farewell.

“May the earth be firm beneath your feet,” Iroh answered, and he began to head back to his ship.

Suki and her warriors turned, withdrawing from the shore. But she couldn’t help but take one last look behind her. At Iroh’s retreating form, the Fire Nation ship still in the harbor, and the one already so far away, sinking into the storm.

Overhead, the storm clouds thundered, and the rain thickened.

oOo

Zuko watched the shore wane into the horizon, the precipitation blurring the sky with the gray sea. He'd left behind his crew, his uncle—but that didn't matter now. He finally was on his way to the Fire Nation. He'd see his father again, the palace—he'd even missed the fire lilies. The ache in his heart was beyond question. Home.

"Guards," immediately manacles were clamped onto his wrist from behind.

Zuko swung from side to side. "What?! What's going on?!" At this protest his head was driven to the wet deck.

Above him, Zhao laughed, low and cold. "What were you expecting, Prince Zuko? That I would just let you waltz into the Fire Nation? No, with the Avatar I have to take certain precautions."

"Release me," he snarled, "now." Zuko strained to lift his head up so he could see Zhao's face, but a pair of hands forced him back down.

"No, I don't think so," the man leaned over, hissing into Zuko's ear, "You see, you're my prize. I will execute you in front of the Fire Lord, and he shall reward me handsomely."

"You're wrong!" Zuko shouted, blinking against the rain. He refused to believe it. "Once I deliver myself to my father, he will welcome me home with honor, and together we will bring victory to the Fire Nation!"

"You? Why would he want you?" Zhao grabbed Zuko's chin, thrusting it up so Zuko's eyes would meet his, "If your father really wanted you home, he would've let you return by now, airbender or no airbender. But his eyes you're a failure and a disgrace to the Fire Nation." Zhao's eyes gleamed hungrily, "No, to him you're much better off dead. You see, you're the last Avatar. With the Air Nomads and waterbenders killed off, the cycle of reincarnation is broken. Once you're gone, there will be nothing standing in the way of the Fire Nation."

Zuko spat in Zhao's face. The man recoiled for an instant, but then he glared. He raised one hand and struck Zuko across his bad side. Zuko fell back, his cheek searing.

"Take him away," Zhao said, and the soldiers wrenched Zuko off the deck. "Lock him in the jail cell and make sure he doesn't see sunlight."

Zuko screamed.

oOo

The soldiers were all on their feet; they had been sent to the ship just before Zhao’s arrival so they could secure the ship, so it wouldn’t become unmoored during the storm. The plan had been to stay a night and wait out the storm in the inn.

"General Iroh, what happened? We saw Prince Zuko leave with Commander Zhao," asked Lieutenant Jee as Iroh approached.

"Commander Zhao—has captured—Zuko!" Iroh's voice was labored, "Prepare the ship for departure! We must go after him!" the General's hair and beard were stringy and tangled from the rain; it gave Jee an impression of a madman.

"But what about this storm?" Jee shouted, gesturing with his hands to the escalating winds around him, "If this lasts much longer, I don't think the ship will sail! The safety of my men will be at stake!"

"We must risk it," Iroh said, and his eyes were steely, "We cannot let Zuko stay in Zhao’s grasp. He is a power-hungry man who will stop at nothing for glory. Please, Lieutenant Jee, for the safety of the world, for my nephew, we must follow them.”

Lieutenant Jee surveyed the general, jaw clenched. Finally, he exhaled. "You're a good man, General Iroh. Because I trust your judgement, I will do this. But trust is running low. If I suppose that harm will come to any of my crew, I shall turn this ship around myself."

Iroh's gaze was weary, resigned. "I understand. Do as you wish; I will not stop you."

Jee nodded. "Set the engines at full speed!" he yelled, and the men scuttled around the ship... all while the wind beat the rain down upon them.

oOo

He shook the bars of his cell; they clanged hollowly but did not budge.

"Let me out!" he shouted to the soldiers standing guard over him. He yanked on his chains, "By the order of Prince Zuko, I demand you let me out!"

"My, my, my," sneered Zhao, emerging in front of the cell. A single torch on the wall behind Zhao highlighted his contorted features and threw his shadow over the teenager. "Is this how you treat your fellow Fire Nation citizens? A year in exile has done little to temper your tongue."

"Do not underestimate me, Zhao! Once I escape—"

"Once you escape?!" Zhao barked out a laugh, "Prince Zuko, you're helpless. I have hundreds of ships under my command, and you? You're just a banished prince. No home, no allies. Your own father doesn't even want you."

"That's—not true." Zuko said, gaze fierce. His face was blooming in bruises, and the cut on his neck was beginning to bleed again.

Zhao's eyes flicked to Zuko's scar. "You have the scar to prove it," he said.

In a cry, Zuko jerked forward, pulling his chains taut. Through the bars, his face was inches from Zhao's. "Maybe you'd like one to match," he snarled.

Zhao raised his eyebrows. "Is that a challenge?" he said, tone mocking.

"Yes. I challenge you to an Agni Kai. If I win, you let me go free."

"You know, I think I like you better in chains," Zhao remarked, turning away.

"What, afraid of being beaten by a teenager?!" Zuko shouted after him.

Zhao paused. His fists tightened.

"Commander Zhao, don't let this boy get to you," one of the guards whispered.

"Shut up," he muttered back.

"Yea, that's right, you're scared," Zuko jeered, "Scared of being beaten. You coward."

Zhao pivoted, marching back to the cell. "I am not a coward," he spat.

"Prove it."

"...very well," Zhao snapped his fingers, "Guards, unchain Prince Zuko and bring him up on deck."

"But Commander, he's the Ava—"

"Did you hear what I said?! Bring the boy up! Seems you haven't learned your lesson, Prince Zuko," Zhao said scornfully to him, "just as eager to be humiliated as the last time you dueled a master."

Zuko stared at the man's retreating form while the torch's flame flared high, scorching the wall.

oOo

Fleetingly, the world would be illuminated by the ever-advancing flashes of lightning—before being plunged into darkness again. The wind howled, pitching the contents of the sky earthwards in an incessant downpour.

On deck, Zuko's clothes clung to his back and skin, thoroughly soaked. He rubbed his raw wrists, squinting through the torrent.

Opposite him, Zhao assumed a fighting stance, and in the streaks of light his face could be seen. His grin was like a jackal-hyena. "It's a shame your father won't be here to watch me destroy you," he sneered.

Zuko copied his stance. His feet slid a little on the slick ground. He tried to ignore his racing pulse and the rushing in his ears. The rain was now blowing sideways, beating down upon him as if it was hail. Zuko suppressed a shiver and straightened despite the frigidness of the droplets on his skin.

Remember your basics, he told himself. He could not let himself die like this, not at the hands of an arrogant bastard. He raised one hand, pivoting towards Zhao. He readied himself—

"Zuko, NO!"

In a flash of lightning his uncle stood between them. He was crouched low, palms held steady.  

"What is the meaning of this?!" Zhao stormed forward as the ship tilted sideways, groaning. "Guards!"

"Zuko, you must come with me, now!" Iroh ordered, stepping to his nephew’s side. Behind him, their ship could be seen, smaller compared to Zhao's vessel, bobbing side by side in the surging waves.

Zuko shook his head. The wind bit into his face and scar. "I need to finish this," he said, voice low and resolute.

"Do not be foolish, Prince Zuko! If you do not leave now, then we cannot get to shore safely! Come!" He tugged on his arm. On their ship, a figure waved his arms, signaling that it was time to go.

"Oh, don't think you can get away that easily," Zhao interjected. His face was twisted in rage. Soldiers moved in with his approach, hands ready, encircling Zuko and Iroh.

"I will hold them off," muttered Iroh as they backed against each other, "But you need to run."

"Uncle—"

"I will be fine. On my signal," Iroh said, "Now!"

Zuko barreled through one of the men and glided across the deck, which now was flooded with ankle-high water. The screams of Zhao's soldiers echoed behind him, sounding distant through the rain. Their vessel was only a boat length away, the distance bridged by a plank laid between—

He leaped up onto the edge of the ship. Zuko was about to set foot on the plank—it seemed so fragile compared with the waves roiling beneath—when he was yanked back.

"Running away?" Zhao snarled in his face, "come face your opponent!"

Zuko threw an arc of fire at Zhao; the man backed up but retaliated with his own bursts of flame. Zuko rolled, shoulders hitting the deck, shooting two blasts at the man's feet, but he simply stepped to the side, launching a volley of fireballs in rapid succession. Zuko could hardly blink; the smoke from the flames stung his eyes and the rain obscured Zhao from view. The metal edge of the ship rammed into him as he staggered backwards from the force of the flames.

"Given up already, Prince Zuko?" Zhao taunted. Flames licked his fingers as he sauntered closer. "You're weak."

Zuko struggled to lift his head; his head was swimming—he couldn't think—everything hurt—

"Farewell, Zuko…" the man brought the fire to Zuko's face, "the Avatar who failed."

The flames flicked his cheek. Zuko squeezed his eyes shut, preparing for the searing pain—

Zuko!  His mother's voice seemed to swell with the wind. He twitched. No, let it be over already—

Never give up without a fight.

The words resonated clearly in his ears, shaking his head from the fog of exhaustion and pain. Zuko's eyes flew open. He punched Zhao in the face. The man staggered, flames extinguishing—but the force of impact was too great. Zuko lurched on his feet, his balance thrown off—he fumbled somewhere, anywhere, for a handhold, something to grasp, but the ship's metal was slick, and his hands slipped off.

Zuko swayed backwards, and then he careened—off the side of the boat.

He was falling. Down, down, down…

He slammed into the water. It was needles on his skin. He reached up, flailing his arms, trying to get above water, but it was no use. The waves were too great. He gasped for air, but instead swallowed seawater. A wave crested and crashed down upon him. He rolled. He could no longer tell sea from air.

He was sinking, sinking… the water enveloped him, dragging on his clothes. He cried, and the whirling sea welcomed him. The world faded into icy darkness.

Chapter Text

Book One: Air

Chapter Three: The Two Bandits

The silence was interposed with the sounds of clinking porcelain and the polite sips of tea. Toph sat primly in her seat, her back ramrod straight, her chin held daintily in the air, and the intricate bun that had taken the servants half an hour to do perfectly balanced on her crown. Her sleeves were carefully slid down her forearms, as to not stain the silk cheongsam her parents had chosen for her to wear.

The lovely warmth of the morning sun on her cheek only served as a contrast to the weather the night before. The storm had caused her parents to board up the entire estate, blocking off all means of escape. There had been no chance to slip off to the ring. Her parents had even sent four armed guards to watch over her room that night instead of the usual two. As if she was so fragile the rain would blow her right off the earth. Toph maintained her placid smile. It would take more than a splash of water to lift the greatest earthbender’s feet off her element.

Her father broke the silence. “It’s a pleasure for you to join us for breakfast, Sifu Yu.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Lord Beifong.” the man seated beside her, who didn’t even deserve the title of Sifu, slickly replied.

“With the finest teacher in the land instructing her, I’m sure Toph’s private lessons are going well. But I want to make sure she’s not trying anything too dangerous,” her father said, sipping his tea.

That simpering, sniveling, weak-minded weasel-skunk of a man wriggled under her father’s praise. “Absolutely not. I am keeping her at a beginner’s level. Basic forms and breathing exercises only.”

I’ll show you breathing exercises…

“Very good.” A servant swept behind her chair, placing Toph’s cup of morning tea gently on the table. Her father must’ve taken notice. “Blow on it. It’s too hot for her,” he ordered.

Toph bit her cheek as the servant leaned over. Only a few more hours of this. She only had to last through this entire morning and afternoon, and then in the evening, she could sneak away.

Her mother set her teacup down. “This afternoon we have an invitation to General Fong’s summer home here in Gaoling,” she remarked in her shrilly saccharine voice, “Hearing news of the war effort directly from one of the Council of Five will be exciting.”

“Ah yes, the Army has demanded an increasingly large quota of iron exports from our mines. It makes me question the,” her father paused, annoyed, “competence of those in Ba Sing Se. Perhaps a conversation with General Fong will persuade him to allocate those resources well.”

At her father’s words her mother’s heart rate sped up. “Dear, “she said nervously to her husband, “I wonder if talk of the war may be too upsetting for Toph…” she whispered the last part in his ear, as if Toph couldn’t hear her.

Her father started. Toph knew he was studying her, because when he spoke, his voice was directed towards her. “I’m sorry Toph, I didn’t mean to frighten you. Don’t worry, you’ll stay at home, where it’s safe and sound, while your mother and I go to the meeting.” His words were lilted high, like he was talking to a toddler. “Sifu Yu will guide you through training in the morning. In the afternoon, the guards can even take you for a stroll in the gardens. I’m sure the extra rain from last night has made the flowers blossom. Wouldn’t you like that, Toph?”  

Toph smiled serenely at her father’s idiocy. It was good they were leaving, then. It would be much easier to slip out.

oOo

"Augh!" Zuko yelled in frustration. His flames had spurted out again, dissipating into the air before reaching their target. "Why can't I get it?!" he kicked a large rock, then sprang back, yelping. "Ouch, ouch, ouch!"

Above, Azula perched on a boulder, arms crossed. She watched Zuko's bending with a disdainful expression. Finally, she sighed. "Here Zuzu, let me show you how it's really done," Azula hopped down, landing gracefully on the practice court. She stepped through the forms, her feet sure and quick, and released a perfectly shaped fireball at the target. The straw figure went up in flames. "There," she said, smirking.

Zuko scowled. "It's not that great," he muttered, staring down at his feet.

"Face it, Zuzu," Azula swept a single strand of her hair back, "At the rate you're going, you'll never catch up," she shrugged, "I guess I'll always be the better twin."

"That's not true!"

"Father thinks so. In fact,” she brushed past him, speaking into his ear, “he's already considering making me the heir to the throne,” she raised her hands nonchalantly, “I overheard him talking about it yesterday."

Zuko squeezed his eyes shut. His fists tightened. Azula always lies, Azula always lies…

"Oh well, I better leave you to your practice," she called over her shoulder, "Maybe in a few years you'll be able to master that move."

Her footsteps echoed across the courtyard.

It wasn't fair. Ever since his mother left, palace life had only gotten worse. Sure, he was improving in firebending, but in his mother's absence Azula's taunts had become more poisonous.

Azula always lies…

He shot another fireball at the smoldering straw figure. This time, the flames drew nearer, but before they could do more than singe the straw, they died into smoke.

He stared morosely. It was hopeless. Zuko turned around, trudging back to his rooms. His feet were so familiar with the corridors that he found his way through without even so much as looking up. He was so preoccupied in his broodings that he didn't even notice who he bumped into on the way back.

"Prince Zuko!" The man stopped his whistling, "How nice to see you. But what is wrong?" he asked, peering down at the boy in concern. "You seem worried."

"Hi Uncle Iroh…" Zuko mumbled. "It's nothing, really…"

Iroh took the boy by his shoulders. "It is not good for a prince to hold his troubles in. Tell me your worries; I am always here if you want someone to confide in."

"Well…" Zuko bit his lip, "I've been training so hard lately, and I know firebending is supposed to get easier, and it is—! But it still seems like I'm going too slow. I don’t know what I’m doing wrong."

"Hmm…" Iroh stroked his beard thoughtfully. "Maybe you need a change of perspective. I know! Come with me tomorrow. I would like you to meet an old friend of mine."

"I don't want to sit around and drink tea, Uncle!" Zuko huffed.

"Do not fret, my nephew!" Iroh smiled, "I think you will like him. You see, this friend is a master... and very knowledgeable in the ways of combat."

oOo

He awoke to the sensation of thirst; dry and gritty. Sand and salt coated the inside of his mouth and tongue. He was cold and hot; he could feel the sun on his back and the tide reaching and receding, seeping into the tears of his clothes, and gnawing on the gashes on his body.

Zuko groaned, lifting himself to his feet despite the ache in his bones. He squinted in the glare of the noon-day sun. He was on a beach, the sand rocky and laden with driftwood. The shoreline extended far off into the horizon on either side. The sand quickly became overtaken with underbrush, and through the gaps in the branches in front of him, he thought he could see the outline of a road.

There were no villages in the Patola Mountains, and the shoreline was much too expansive to be a part of Kyoshi Island. He must be in Earth Kingdom territory.

Pangs of hunger struck his side like a well-aimed bludgeon, and Zuko grabbed his stomach. He needed food. He would have to follow that road—it probably led to a town—but, Zuko realized, glancing down at himself, he couldn't go like this. His clothes, which hung tattered and torn on his form, were overlaid in the dark red of the Fire Nation.

From what he had gathered from his year in exile, Earth Kingdom citizens would acquiesce to the demands of Fire Nation troops—but then again, he had only visited the major ports. He had never ventured to the inner Earth Kingdom. Their reactions to a Fire Nation boy dressed in military uniform, when not under the threat of force and the enticements of monetary gain, were sure to be unpleasant.

Zuko turned towards the ocean. The sun shimmered upon the deep blue waves as they tossed in their rolling rhythm. Just as blue, the sky overhead was cloudless, as if the storm from the night before had been washed away with the same ease as the sea smoothing a pebble.

While the waves lapped at his feet, Zuko began to undress. He winced as gashes on his arms and legs reopened with the movement. No doubt bruises were pooling beneath his skin as well. He carefully peeled off his light armor and tunic, leaving behind a thin layer of dark underclothing. Although there was nothing he could do to disguise his pale skin and golden eyes, with his attire now consisting of only dark grays and blacks, he hoped he wouldn't seem too conspicuous in an Earth Kingdom town.

But there was one more thing he had forgotten. He patted himself down, his fingers finding his knife strapped against his thigh. It was a miracle it hadn't slipped away when he'd gone overboard. But, then again, it was a miracle he was still alive, several leagues away from Kyoshi Island.

Zuko lifted the knife up. The characters inscribed gleamed in the sun: Never give up without a fight.

He raised it behind his head, and with one clean slice, cut the blade through his hair. He stared at the phoenix tail in his palm—it was the last trace of his heritage—but he had no choice. He was going to have to disguise himself until… when? He found his uncle? He got back to the Fire Nation? He swayed slightly. He couldn't think. He needed something to eat first.

His hands loosened their grip, and he let the hair fall into the water. As the next wave surged, the ocean dragged on the hair, pulling it inwards into its dark and unknowable depths.

Zuko turned back to the shoreline. He limped over the sand to the faint road beyond.

oOo

Iroh sat cross-legged at a Pai Sho table on deck, holding a teacup in one hand. Weariness settled in his bones. Last night, after the storm, they had barely pulled into the nearest port. The storm made it impossible to return to the small fishing village they had found; the currents forced them to sail through the night to Earth Kingdom territory.

As soon as they docked, Iroh had insisted his crew get some rest. And yet a few hours of sleep were hardly enough respite for what the men had gone through in the past two days. Their faces were haggard, the toll of nearly being blown off the Southern Air Temple and drowned in the storm revealed through the half-moon shadows beneath their eyes and their disheveled uniforms. If the men weren’t seated before him in broad daylight, Iroh would’ve thought they were the dead summoned from the Spirit World.

Despite their appearances, Iroh knew them to be good men. It had been a small relief, that in the disarray following Zuko’s Agni Kai and subsequent banishment, little oversight was given in the selection of Zuko’s crew for his sentence. Iroh had been lucky enough that his choices for the navymen had gone unquestioned. The men were honorable and undeniably loyal to the royal family, but the younger ones were too inexperienced to have become fully indoctrinated in the Fire Nation’s imperialist ambitions. And the older ones, those who had personally served under Iroh in the second siege of Ba Sing Se, had become disillusioned with such dogma. At least—Iroh spared a glance at Jee—that’s what he hoped.

But, like all who had grown up in the Fire Nation, the men were woefully ignorant of the Avatar and spiritual matters. Despite their lack of knowledge, Iroh knew he could no longer delay this conversation. He would have to tread carefully, then. His next few words would decide the fate of his crew.

You know why I called you all here,” Iroh said. He sipped at his tea.

Several of the men glanced down at their own cups, as if they had forgotten they had been given it in the first place. Iroh thought the tea might do well to calm the crew, but it was clear the men were far too anxious to give drink the attention it deserved. Apprehension in the air was as palpable as sweat down the back of ones’ neck at the height of a Fire Nation summer.

Iroh continued, "After yesterday, I am sure you have many questions. I have been meaning to speak to all of you since we left the Southern Air Temple, but circumstances," Iroh frowned, "have prevented me from doing so. I shall do that now. First of all, I will confirm the rumors. It is true, Prince Zuko is the Avatar."

Several teacups shattered against the deck. The crew members murmured to each other,

"I knew it!"

"Then you weren't lying about what happened at the Air Temple, Shirai!"

"Why would I lie, Ryuzu?"

"But how is that possible?"

"The Earth Avatar—"

"The Earth Avatar is dead," Iroh interrupted forcefully, and the exchanges ceased. "Avatar Huan died in the first siege of Ba Sing Se, although I did not know it then. But the details do not concern us now. Zuko is the Avatar."

Iroh sighed. "You men were assigned to Prince Zuko and me for the purpose of finding an airbender. I know that this task has not been easy. I assume that none of you wanted to accompany us in banishment, and my nephew," the man touched his beard, "Can be… very difficult at times—"

Someone snorted, "nice way of saying spoiled.”

"Nevertheless, with Prince Zuko being the Avatar, our circumstances have changed. This is where our paths diverge. As soldiers, you men have vowed to be always loyal to the Fire Nation, even unto death. You may want to return with the Avatar back to the Fire Nation, even unto death. You may want to return with the Avatar back to the Fire Nation, but I am warning you: I will stop you if you do."

The men looked at each other nervously. There was the sound of shifting in place. They all knew despite Iroh's appearance; he was a master firebender.

"Although it has taken a lifetime to learn, I now know that what our world needs is peace. The Avatar is the only one who can restore this peace among the nations. I will guide him. But I will not force you to. You are free to join me in aiding my nephew on his journey, or to leave. If you leave, then today I will re-station you to another ship in this harbor. That is all."

Having listened with rapt attention to the whole speech, the men now sat in silent shock. None dared to move.

"General Iroh," Lieutenant Jee broke the silence, staring determinedly at Iroh, and Iroh resisted a smile. He had been wise to choose this sharp man. "How does this matter?” Jee asked. “Zuko fell overboard Commander Zhao's ship last night. The Avatar is most likely dead."

"It would take more than a storm to kill the Avatar," Iroh replied. Every time he closed his eyes, that moment flashed before him. Zuko, eyes fearful, unable to stop himself as he tumbled backwards, falling, falling, falling… the sea rising to claim him… it reminded him too much of when he had received the news of Lu Ten. That feeling of helplessness and terrible dread, unable to reverse the events already set in motion.

But Iroh refused to believe that Zuko was dead. The Spirits gave the Avatar more chances at life than many families received over entire generations. Why, it had taken fifty men to kill the last Avatar.

He could only hold onto a kindling hope that his nephew was still alive…

"At dusk, I will depart in search of my nephew," Iroh said, "I will give you until then to make your decisions. You are dismissed."

The men were reluctant to disperse, the weight of Iroh’s words not entirely settled with them, but Iroh let them meander. He knew they would come to their own conclusions in time.

Iroh tilted his cup to his mouth for another sip, frowning as he was faced with the bottom of an empty cup. Had he really drunk so much so quickly? Well, tea was a welcome addiction during these times.

Iroh set the cup down beside him. He stared out into the mouth of the bay. Zuko was out there, somewhere. He would find him.

oOo

Zuko definitely seemed conspicuous. The town was clean and well-maintained, bustling with various people and shops. The townsfolk would take one look at Zuko—with his torn-up clothes and bruised face—and skirt around him, avoiding eye contact. Another distasteful street urchin, another refugee.

Better to get out of sight before some Earth Kingdom troops investigated. Zuko ducked into a shadowy alleyway. He stood rigidly, afraid to accidentally touch the filthy, soot-stained walls on either side. It was just like any other town, the poverty swept under the rug in favor of maintaining appearances. And yet the town’s underbelly spread throughout the place like fissures in the earth.

Zuko ignored the nausea mounting in his throat at the stench of garbage. He was revolted that he was forced to hide in the places where beggars and vagabonds—those who were worth less than the clay dust accumulated on a potter’s wheel—teemed. These alleyways weren’t even fit for daofei.

Yet he had nowhere else to go. He needed food, new clothes, and a plan. But he didn't have any money.

Then he would have to steal.

Zuko resisted the urge to growl. For him, the crown prince, to be reduced to theft—it was disgusting.

"You've got a fine eye there," a conversation filtered down from a nearby shop window. "Those dual dao swords are made of the finest steel in the Earth Kingdom."

Dual dao? Zuko's ears pricked up, and he inched over to the window, peering in. The warm, well-lit store was filled with various weapons and antiques, including a wall of painted wooden masks. The shopkeeper, a short pudgy man, was motioning to a lighted display. Under the cushion of satin, a pair of dao swords was mounted on the wall. Their blades gleamed.

"How much are they?" asked a man, eyeing the swords hungrily.

"Unfortunately, they are not for sale. They have already been purchased by the Beifong family as a decorative, and—" the shopkeeper raised an eyebrow at the customer, "I don't think you can name a price that could compete with the richest family in Gaoling."

His fingers itched. Zuko needed those blades. They would be the perfect defense in the Earth Kingdom, where any use of firebending was like a plea to be hanged. And it wasn't as if he was really stealing; they were going to some rich family, not even to be used. Those blades would go to waste!

The shopkeeper began to escort his customer to the front of the store, and as soon as his back was turned, Zuko crept in through the window. He hit the floor in a crouch, and slowly, he inched towards the display, keeping one eye on the back of the shopkeeper throughout. The dao swords were in reach. The handles, made of dark wood, were polished, and despite having been ornamental, the edges of the blades were perfectly sharpened, as if waiting for a swordsman's touch.

His reflection shone in the blades: his face, battered and scarred. It had been years ago when he had first laid eyes on a pair of dao swords, but the memory remained clear.

oOo

"It is good to see you, Iroh," Piandao said, bowing, "And what brings you to my home?"

"I bring you a student," Iroh gestured to the boy, who bowed to Piandao despite the persistent scowl on his young face. "Prince Zuko, heir to the throne."

Piandao scrutinized the boy. "I have had many students; noblemen, prodigies, the sons of great generals...but never a prince."

Zuko had noticed the swords on the walls, and his frown deepened. He thought he would be learning from a master firebender. "Why would I have any use in learning from a nonbender?" he protested, turning to glare at Iroh, "Uncle, this is a waste of time!"

"Please ignore my nephew's disrespect," Iroh said, bowing once more, "he is ignorant about the arts that extend beyond bending. But I assure you, Piandao, Prince Zuko will prove to be an excellent pupil if you give him the chance."

Piandao swiveled, facing the wide doorway that led to the courtyards. Several moments passed before he spoke. "One may think that being a swordsman is weak," he began contemplatively, arms behind his back, "but to learn the ways of the sword is to learn how to be a warrior... your mind will be sharper, your body will be quicker, and your bending will be stronger. Prince Zuko, I will train you," he turned, gaze piercing, "but you must show me that you have what it takes to become a master."

Zuko swallowed. "If I can become a better firebender, then I'll do whatever it takes," he answered, and his young voice was steel.

oOo

Toph schooled her face into that of peaceful slumber, stilling her body beneath the covers. She waited for her guards to finish checking up on her.

“She’s asleep,” one whispered to the other.

“Let’s lock up,” the other replied.

Soon, their footsteps retreated.

Once the door had slid shut and the bolt clack into place, Toph slithered out from under her covers. She landed lightly on the floor. She knew she must be silent—she could still hear the breathing of the guards just outside and feel the subtle shifting of their weight as they stood watch. She reached beneath her bed, her fingers prying at a floorboard. With a practiced wiggle, the board lifted, and she removed the clothing and a chunk of earth beneath.

Toph slipped out of her fancy nightgown and into her fighting attire. She pressed the rough-hewn fabric against her nose and breathed in the comforting smell of dirt and sweat. The scent was much preferable to the stuffy, perfumed fabrics her parents adorned her in.

She left her folded nightgown beneath the floorboard and replaced it, straightening. The window was next. The lock was a simple sliding mechanism, but it was placed high on the window, far out of arms reach.

How foolish her parents were to assume that a simple lock on the door and window could keep her in.

Toph stood in the corner of her bedroom, diagonal from the window. She hefted the rock in one hand, tossing it a few times in her palm. The trick was to aim it so there was hardly a sound. It had taken several months of practiced, precise earthbending, but she finally was able to hit the lock every time without fail.

She curled her toes against the floor and swung her arm back, letting the rock fly from the tips of her fingers. As soon as it was released, she tapped one foot on the floor, the subtle vibrations rippling up the walls and through the glass pane. She could accurately visualize the lock, and with a bit of bending—guide the earthen missile to its target.

With a small rap, the rock met the lock, knocking it into the open position. The rock then floated back down, landing gently in Toph’s open palm like a turtleduck returning to its mother.

Toph dropped the rock into her pocket (Her outfit had pockets, could you believe that?) and went over to the sill. She slid the window open, pausing as the night air, carrying the sweet scent of jasmine from the gardens, tickled her skin.

She snuck out of her bedroom and into the gardens beyond, unable to keep the grin off her face.

oOo

Beneath the growing shadows of a cherry tree, Zuko studied the mask in his lap. He ran his fingers over the wooden grooves, tracing the blue and white paint strokes. He had snatched the mask on impulse from rows of dozens after stealing the dao swords (he needed a disguise, after all), and it was only now, safely hidden on the edge of the town, that he recognized it.

This was the mask of the Blue Spirit. The character was a favorite of his mother’s: the protagonist of Love Amongst the Dragons, the play his family used to see so long ago on Ember Island. His only concerns then were with the quality of the production (the play was horrible) and whether Azula would make a sandcastle with him (instead, she preferred to practice her firebending by blasting them apart). Concerns as inconsequential and as temporary as a sandcastle itself.

But he was no longer a child.

He placed the mask over his face and tied it on. His breaths were hot and stifled against the rough-hewn wood, but for some reason, the weight was strangely soothing. Zuko picked up his dao swords, glancing at his reflection once more. The one trait that had defined him for so long, his scar, was no longer visible. Instead, the mask laughed back at him.

Tonight, he would roam the streets not as a banished, broken prince. Not as some Avatar, destined to a fate thrust upon him, but as a nobody. A passerby. A thief.

A Spirit.

oOo

"First you will choose your weapon," Piandao said. His servants had laid out swords in rows upon a cloth stretched across a long table. They were all various lengths, widths, and shapes. "Your weapon is an extension of yourself; it must be true to your personality and style. Choose carefully."

Zuko stared down at the swords. They all seemed large and impressive, much too heavy for his slight frame. "Are there any swords that are like bending?" he asked, touching the edge of a katana.

"While there are no swords that are exactly like bending," Piandao answered, bending down at the opposite end of the table, "there are ones that encompass more of the body," he lifted a pair of swords, separating them at the hilt. Zuko’s eyes widened as the swords split apart—they were single-edged, mirror sides of each other.

"These are dual dao," Piandao said, "unlike a regular sword, these ones utilize both arms. They work as halves of a single weapon, and in the hands of the right person," he took them both, and with refined precision, whirled around, slashing a banner. In four equal pieces, the banner fell to the ground. Zuko gaped. "They can act better than just one blade," he finished.

The sword master then handed the hilts to the boy, who looked upon the blades in wonder. "Can I start training today?" he said eagerly.

Iroh, who had settled down with a cup of tea, chuckled.

oOo

It was nearly midnight when Zuko set out, slipping in between the deepened shadows. The storefronts had quieted, and the shopkeepers had locked up for the night. His feet hardly made a sound on the cobblestones.

He had determined that he would go to the Beifong estate. If they were the richest people in town, then they had more than enough food and supplies to spare. It was only a matter of getting there. Something told him that the mansion on the top of the hill would be an excellent place to start. He darted through the underbrush.

Soon, the edge of a large wall came into view. Sheathing the dao swords behind his back, he began to climb. The sliver of light from the moon prickled at the corner of his vision, barely illuminating his route up the wall.

He reached the top of the wall and found himself peering into a large garden. He could make out the faint outlines of bridges, clusters of rock gardens, and fountains dotting the landscape. A man-made stream bubbled throughout, gleaming by the pale light of the moon. It was almost like the royal gardens of his youth.

But where would he find some supplies? Zuko scanned the horizon. The mansion sprawled to the left, its windows shuttered, and doors barred. To the right, on the other side of the gardens, was a collection of small structures: barns and silos. That must be where the storehouses were.

He leapt down, off the wall, rolling to a stop on the manicured grass. Dashing across the lawn, he huffed beneath his mask, so focused on the storehouses that he didn't notice another form slip over the wall behind him.

oOo

Toph nearly skipped up the road to the Beifong estate. The roar of the crowd was still ringing in her ears.  

THE BLIND BANDIT WINS AGAIN!

At first, the Rumble Six was just a training ground, a place where she learned to apply the skills the badgermoles had taught her through fighting various opponents. But soon she rose in rank, and victories occurred every night. She would admit that the whole activity had become rather easy, but where else would she go?

He parents wouldn’t be seen within ten kilometers of the place (a filthy hole where commoners go to gamble, her father once said), and her earthbending instructor dismissed arena style battling as amateur.

So, it was perfect place to avoid either of them. Deep underground, with the earth beneath her feet and the blood pounding in her ears, she finally felt free. There, no one knew her name, no one expected her to sit proper and smile, no, to them she was the blind bandit—an unrelenting force of nature. There, the only rules she followed were those of the arena.

She wished she had her belt with her, so she could run her hands across the metal, that tangible emblem of her victory, the evidence that she was not weak or helpless.

Enough reveling, Toph, she chided herself, sighing. She had reached the wall of the estate. It’s time to head back to reality.

It was then, when she was about to launch herself over the wall, that she heard something. The sound radiated from across the gardens, through the wall and into her feet. The movement of another person. She didn’t recognize his footsteps. An intruder, then.  

Toph quieted her approach, deciding against using earthbending in favor of stealth. As she climbed, she trained her ears on the man’s movement. His motions were quiet, nearly silent to average listener. But Toph was no average listener. She could infer he was somewhat trained in fighting, if his stealth and the swords on his back were any indication.

She dropped down and continued to track the man. As she snuck closer, she was struck by an overwhelming hotness. The man exuded heat, almost as if he was running a fever.

No, there’s no way he’s moving like this if he’s sick, Toph reasoned, his body temperature must just be warmer than average. But even still, she moved warily. If the man was sick, and was capable of such nimble and discreet movements, then he was dangerous indeed.

There was no need to call the guards, though. No. She would confront him. Adrenaline still pumped in her veins.

It had been awhile since she had a worthy opponent.

oOo

Zuko came upon the first storehouse. Unsheathing one dao sword, he wedged it into the frame of the barred door and twisted the blade. With the help of a well-aimed kick, the door flew open.

Inside, Zuko worked fast, picking up sacks from among the towering stacks of food and throwing them over his back. The food, while not as nice as what he had in the palace, was still an improvement over the seafare he had for the past year. There was rice, beans, even bags full of apples... more than enough to last him until he found a way out of the Earth Kingdom.

His hunger temporarily sated by the anticipation of food, he slid out the door once more. That had been easier than he thought.

Zuko turned to leave back the way he came, over the wall... when suddenly, he collided with something hard. It smacked against his stomach, knocking the wind out of him, and he flew backwards, landing against the wall of the silo with a sickening thud.

"Ugh…" Zuko groaned, about to get up, but a hard wall of earth met him, thrusting him back. The brick of the silo pressed his sheathed blades into his back, their blunt edges digging into his spine. He couldn't move, he couldn't even get to his dao swords.

"It's just what I thought," a young voice sounded, and Zuko looked up. A little girl stood over him. “You’re a thief.”

Zuko’s eyes widened when he saw she was dressed in some dirty outfit, the greens of beiges of the Earth Kingdom blending in with the grime. His eyes widened further when he noticed she was barefoot, feet wide in a fighting stance. And his eyes nearly popped out of her head when he noticed the large rock hovering just beneath one of her fists.

"I was just coming back from Earth Rumble Six, when I heard you trespassing. I thought I would follow you, just to see what you were up to. See if you put up a fight," The girl huffed, and her bangs blew out of her face. “I see expected too much. Instead, I caught you red-handed,” she grinned, " Betcha didn't expect a girl to kick your butt, huh?"

Zuko grunted. He was much too experienced with girls defeating him. "Who are you?" His voice was muffled by his mask.

"Only the greatest earthbender alive," boasted the girl, grin broadening. "Toph Beifong. But the question is, who are you? Answer quick, or you'll get a mouth full of dirt," she raised her rock higher.

"I—nobody," Zuko answered.

Her eyes narrowed. The girl stomped her foot, and the rock shot at him, too fast for him to even flinch. It missed his head by inches, breaking cleanly in two.

"I can tell you're lying. Tell me the truth: who are you and why are you stealing from us?"

Beneath the mask, sweat dripped down his brow. "My name's—Lee," he replied finally. "I'm looking for my uncle, but I ran out of food. Please, I'm just hungry." He nearly berated himself for begging, but then again, with some half-crazed earthbender about to cleave his head off, he didn’t have much of a choice, did he?

The girl, Toph, tilted her head to one side. "Hmm, still not telling the truth about your name, but you're honest about everything else," the rock that floated at her other side collapsed against the ground. She moved swiftly towards him, and suddenly, her face was right next to his.

Zuko’s breath seized in his throat. He could now see Toph up close. In the darkness her features were hazy—curse his weak firebender’s sight—but could be just made out. Her face was pale and young—she couldn't have been older than twelve—yet something was strange. She wasn't looking at him, not really. Her gaze was off slightly, just a little too far to the right. Faint moonlight broke through the trees overhead, and then Zuko saw her eyes. A pale green color, they were clouded and unfocused.

"You're blind," he realized.

Toph shrugged. "So? It didn't stop me from crushin' you. Now," she began tugging off his mask, "let's see who you really are," she said, and then all at once she was running a hand over his face, fingers fast and brusque in their probing. Zuko flinched, and his head jerked backwards, trying to escape her touch, but her other hand firmly gripped the back of his skull, locking him in place.

Her hand reached the tough flesh of his scar; she gave an involuntary gasp and her fingertips retreated. But she paused, features troubled. Biting her lip, she set her hand again on his face, and this time her touch was gentler. Zuko was motionless; his teeth were gritted as Toph skimmed her fingers all along his cheek, exploring the extent of the scar.

"You were burned," she said quietly as she backed away, "by a firebender." The rock that had entrapped Zuko fell away, releasing him, but Toph gave it no notice.

"I was burned too, you know," her face turned to the side; she seemed to be speaking more to herself, "it happened when I was very young. My family and I were travelling when our caravan was attacked by Fire Nation soldiers. They robbed us of most of our possessions, and with their deadly fire," Toph touched her eyelids, "they took away my sight." She shrugged nonchalantly. “But I was nearly a baby when it happened. I don’t remember anything but a bright light.”

Zuko's stomach went cold. His chest constricted—with anger, disbelief—he didn't know—as he got to his feet.

To think that his nation would do such a thing to a little girl—

Toph turned to him, "You said you were looking for your uncle, right?" she drew out a sigh, "I guess I can help you. But I'm not gonna call you Lee—that's such a dumb, boring name. I know!" she snapped her fingers, "Sparky, follow me," as quick as she arrived, she disappeared around the silo.

Sparky? Zuko thought, following her.

oOo

"You waste all your time playing with knives," drolled Azula, who lounged cross-legged on the ground, "you're not even good."

Pausing in his practice, Zuko lunged towards his sister, dual blades at the ready. "They're not knives, they're dual dao swords!" he protested, glaring at her, "why don't we fight and then we'll find out how good I am!"

"No thanks," Azula yawned as she stretched, "It wouldn't be a fair fight. I pity you, Zuzu," she said casually, lips twitching upwards in half a smirk, "You're so bad at firebending that you have to learn to fight like a nonbender."

"Shut up, Azula!"

"Well, it's true, isn't it? You could almost be an Earth Kingdom commoner."

Zuko seethed. Ignore her. He told himself, but his blades were quivering.

oOo

As Toph navigated through the dark, her feet sure and steady on the earth, she chatted with Zuko.

"...and that's when I decided to become the Blind Bandit," she said, bending down beneath the branches of a nearby tree as Zuko followed, "since I can see with my feet, I've become the undefeated champion!"

Zuko stared at the girl's back in wonderment. It wasn’t her advanced bending abilities that astounded him (Azula whipped out new techniques so often that Zuko had become desensitized), no, it was the fact that she was telling him, a complete stranger (who had also robbed her), her entire life story? Unless...

He recalled the hours spent gazing into the turtle duck pond or by himself, training with his dao swords... all in an attempt to escape Azula's taunts and his father's disapproval…

Unless she was incredibly lonely.

"Ever since I became blind, my parents have treated me like I was helpless," Toph's voice was bitter, "but they don't understand that I'm not the little girl I was then. I can take care of myself now.”

They reached a large stable. "Here we are," Toph unlatched the door. Squawks and snorts echoed throughout the stable, and the musty smell of animals permeated the air. Zuko instinctively recoiled from the scent, but Toph didn’t seem to mind. She leapt to the nearest stall, wrapping her arms around the long neck of an ostrich horse. Beneath the animal’s silky coat of feathers, powerful leg muscles rippled.

 "Kuro!" she said, and the ostrich horse chirped in greeting, "how I've missed you, boy!"

She slid down, facing Zuko. "This is Kuro, our fastest ostrich horse. He's taken out sometimes for races, but the rest of the time he's cooped up in this barn," she stroked the animal's feathers, and the ostrich horse nuzzled her side with his beak in response, "I come in here sometimes to talk to him. I think he understands how I feel."

She held out the reins to Zuko, "Here. I want you to take him. He can get you anywhere you need to go."

Zuko stared in shock. She was just going to… give the horse to him?

Toph shook the reins at him. “C’mon, before he bolts.”

Zuko unfroze, taking the reins from her. He attached his food sacks to the animal's saddle and swung himself up. Kuro tossed his head as Zuko mounted, but soon stilled when he petted the ostrich horse. At his touch Kuro made a pleased rumbling sound.

"He likes ya," Toph remarked from the ground, "Kuro usually throws off riders the first time they try to mount him."

Zuko fiddled with the reins, "...why are you helping me?" he finally demanded.

Toph crossed her arms, "Hmm, I don't know. I really shouldn't...but I guess if I let you get caught by the guards you would be locked away... and even if you are a thief, I don't think I could do that. Nobody deserves to be locked up.” The girl stomped her foot again, and far away something seemed to crumble. "I've made an opening in the wall," she said, "you should be able to leave that way."

He snapped the reins, and the ostrich horse spurred forward out of the stall. But then Zuko halted. His stomach churned with a mass of emotions. It was some corrupt compulsion—the result of his feverish state of exhaustion, hunger, and astonishment—that drove him to reach into his sleeve and pull out his pearl dagger.

"Here," he said, lowering it into the girl's palm. "I want you to have this. Can you read the engraved inscription?"

The girl grinned, "it's how I learned to read. My parents may think I’m helpless and obedient, but I’m not stupid." she unsheathed the dagger. Feeling around the blade, she recited, "made in Earth Kingdom."

"The other side."

She followed the grooves, "never give up without a fight," she said softly, "huh." And with that Zuko rode past her, through the barn and out the door, galloping off into the night.

Toph felt the rumblings of his departure. She stood very still, listening to his retreat across the gardens.

"See ya, Sparky," she whispered, and the ghost of a smile played upon her face.

oOo

Zhao gripped the railing as the ship cut through the dark waters, swift as a hawk through the sky. Thoughts of the night before invaded his mind:

“You’re scared,” Zuko laughed at him, “coward.”

He made a growling sound deep in his throat. He would not let the boy slip away from him again.

"Commander Zhao," a soldier tapped him on the shoulder, "Here are the posters. As you requested, they'll be distributed across every city in the Earth Kingdom."

Zhao whirled, snatching the posters and lantern from the soldier. In his firm grip, he held the pieces of parchment up to the yellow pool of light. The sketch of Zuko, scar and all, stared back at him.

Of course, the paper made no indication that the boy was the Avatar; Zhao didn't want the entire Fire Navy to abandon their posts in a frenzy after his prize. But the reward would suffice for the regular thief, scoundrel, and dirt-poor urchin. Soon, every commoner would be crawling like ants on a carcass across the Earth Kingdom, seeking the boy.

Zhao crumpled the paper in his fist. "There will be no place left to hide," he said, lip curling.

Chapter Text

Book One: Air

Chapter Four: The Desert Part 1: The Oasis

He pulled his hat further down as the arid wind rushed by, but the hat's wide brim couldn't quite shield the sand from biting his face. Beneath him, Kuro plodded onwards, but it was clear that the ostrich horse would need to rest soon. They had traveled through the night, the next day, and then another night, with only a brief stop in a town for some feed.

Zuko scanned the horizon. Not too far off, a small village could be made out among the shifting sand. They would stop there, then, before continuing. Although he had never travelled through the Si Wong Desert, his geography lessons (hammered into every Fire Nation nobleman's child from before they could read) provided a mental map by which he could navigate by. If his memory was still sharp, then they had a ways to go before they reached Daihai Bay. Located in the colonies, it was the biggest harbor controlled by the Fire Nation. Once there, he could easily sneak aboard a ship and head back home.

And his uncle..? Did he think Zuko was dead?

Zuko shut his eyes for a moment. The sand stung.

He didn't like to dwell on it. But if the old man thought him alive, the bay would be the first place he would go. It would be no use to scour the entire Earth Kingdom for Zuko. Either way, uncle or no uncle, Zuko had to get back to the Fire Nation. To his father.

You were lucky to be born.

No. It was different now. Finally, after all this time, Zuko was worth something; he could be useful. He was the Avatar, wasn't he?

That had to mean something.

oOo

Lieutenant Jee's boots clicked on the deck as he made his way to the bow of the ship, where Iroh stood, facing the sea. "General," he began, stepping in line with the man, "our course has remained straight. We should arrive at Dahai Bay in a few days."

Iroh's gaze never left the ocean. "Good," he said.

Jee rubbed the back of his neck, "I know you're determined to reach Dahai," he said, hesitant, "but what makes you so sure that we'll find Prince Zuko there?"

"I know Prince Zuko as if he was my own son," Iroh replied, arms tucked away in their sleeves, "he will try to find a ship that will take him to the Fire Nation. We need to meet him there." Iroh turned to Jee, and his face seemed weathered, his eyes weary. "Thank you, Lieutenant Jee, for your loyalty despite the circumstances," he said, bowing low. "It means a lot to an old man."

Jee bowed back swiftly. "Of course, General," he answered, before turning on his heel. He headed back to the cabins.

The decision had been difficult. After their meeting with Iroh, the crew entered into a series of yelling matches and fights, of which Jee himself had singed some eyebrows. Ultimately half the crew chose to leave.

But Jee had wanted to stay. Over the past year he spent with Iroh and Prince Zuko, he had grown somewhat attached. He'd come to think of Iroh as like a father, and Zuko like an annoying little brother. Perhaps Iroh had been right—Jee had been an officer on the frontlines before, and he had watched too many of his comrades die. If the Avatar could stop the war, well, then maybe it was for the better… even if that did mean that Jee was turning his back on the Fire Nation.

Jee's stride stiffened. All he could do now was trust Iroh.

He slammed open the door to the soldiers' bunkers. The two men inside, Ryuzu and Shirai, startled at the sound, knocking their playing cards to the ground. Ryuzu tripped over a bedpost, landing flat on his back.

"What are you two doing?!" Jee barked as the young men scrambled to their feet, flapping their arms in hasty salutes.

"Nothing, we were, uh, cleaning the barracks—" blubbered Ryuzu. He shoved the cards under a cot with his feet.

"There is a ship to be run, we're short on men, and you two are gambling?!"

Shirai gave a sheepish grin. "Sorry, sir," he said.

"Get on deck," Jee said shortly, "now." and he stormed out of the room, leaving the two to scurry after him.

He huffed in impatience. Just his luck that he would be stuck with the idiots of the crew.

oOo

The sign hung crookedly, creaking in the wind as Zuko entered: Misty Springs Oasis.

Not very misty, Zuko thought, passing by a shrunken piece of ice. No green could be seen, only the oranges and tans of the barren desert. Dry coughing and the shifting of sand were the only sounds on the wind. Townsfolk, their bodies wrapped in linen, leaned against their round huts, eyes riveted on him as he passed by. Zuko tipped his hat further down.

He stopped short at the entrance to a small inn and hopped off Kuro. The animal gave a low whine, but Zuko just patted his beak and led him to the stables lining the outside of the inn.

"Could I get some water, a bag of feed and something hot to eat?" Zuko asked the bartender once he was inside. He held out two coins. It was the last of the money that Zuko had found in Kuro's saddle.

The bartender shook his head as he took the coins. "Not enough here for a hot meal," he said, handing Zuko a glass of water. "I can get you two bags of feed," he disappeared into the back room.

Zuko sipped his water and surveyed the tavern. Men slouched over the tables, their clothes dusted and worn from their travels. Eyes shifted in his direction; one sharpened a knife as he stared. Zuko gripped his glass. The sooner he left this dirty village the better.

As the bartender emerged from the back room, a screeching broke the silence. Zuko started. It was coming from outside—Kuro! Zuko snatched the feed bags from the bartender's hands and dashed out of the tavern.

Zuko's feet skidded to a stop in the sand. Voices echoed in the direction of the stable. Flinging himself against the wall of the inn, he peered around the corner. Kuro was reared up, stomping the ground in alarm. Before the stable, Zuko could make out half a dozen men. Three of the men wore the wraps of the desert, eyes shielded under visors. Sandbenders.

Between them there was a smaller form, hands tied, struggling against the grasp of the sandbenders. And across from the sandbenders, other men stood expectantly. Their dark-skinned faces were exposed and beetles's heads perched on their crowns.

"We found her near the edge of the desert," said one of the sandbenders to the beetle-headed merchant. "Part of the Hami Tribe. She's a pretty one, but fiesty."

One of the merchants bent down to inspect the young girl. "Perhaps, but we need to make sure you aren't selling spoiled goods. Let's see how pretty she really is," and the man reached for the girl's face wrappings.

At this the girl yelled, and the sand around her feet kicked up, flying into the man's face. He stumbled back, coughing. Around him the men laughed raucously.

The merchant wiped the sand from his eyes with the back of his hand, glaring. "Little wench!" he hissed, and spat in the girl's face. The man seized her shoulders, wrenching her away from the sandbenders. "We'll take her from here," he said, waving his hand to one of his men, who stepped forward with a small pouch of coins. gave the sandbenders a small pouch of coins. "She'll fetch a large price from the brothels in Ba Sing Se."

The sandbenders seized the pouch of coins. The laughed as they boarded their sand sailers. "She's your problem now!"

"No matter," the man grabbed the girl's chin. "I'll teach her a lesson."

Zuko reacted. With no time to even put on his mask, he whipped out his blades and emerged from the side of the building.

"That's enough," Zuko said, "you're scaring my ostrich horse."

The merchant's eyes narrowed. "Don't involve yourself, stranger," he said, drawing the girl closer to him.

Zuko didn't move.

The merchant straightened in response, and behind him the other merchants brandished machetes. They stepped closer. The sandbenders jumped down from their sailers, joining the beetle-headed merchants.

"Maybe we can sell him, too," one of them said, and all of the men attacked.

Zuko swerved, narrowly missing a gust of sand, but the grains still bit into his exposed skin. Sand soared as Zuko's blades sliced the air, deflecting the onslaught of machetes. As one of the men lunged forward, machete raised, Zuko turned and whirled, crossing both blades and thrusting the man back. The man fell against another merchant, and they both tumbled to the ground.

Zuko jumped and dodged, weaving closer to the sandbenders as they sent whirlwind after whirlwind of sand. Don't get caught in the storm, Zuko thought, blinking sand out of his eyes. Fight them at close range.

He barrelled in between two sandbenders, and shocked, they whipped up the sand at their feet in a frantic defense. But Zuko leapt out of the way, leaving the men to stumble and cough, blinded by their own dust cloud. As the men remained disoriented, Zuko crouched. He slipped behind the men and knocked them out with the hilt of his dao swords.

He turned on the remaining sandbender. The man yelled, tossing sand at Zuko before retreating, fleeing to the sand sailers. Zuko easily sprinted up behind him, thrusting the pommel of both his blades against the man's spine. The sandbender cried out, and he collapsed against the wooden side of the sailer.

There was only one man left. He clutched onto the girl, his machete at her neck. "Stop right there," he growled. "One move and I'll cut her neck."

Zuko lowered his blades. "Let her go."

The merchant sneered. "Brave words, boy, but you can't do anything. She's mine. You just stay there, and I'll leave real slow…" the man backed up with the girl, heading towards a giant beetle tethered a few meters away.

The handles of his dao swords grew hot in Zuko's grip, and he gritted his teeth. The wind blew. He couldn't do anything, couldn't stop anything—

The merchant paused against the side of the beetle, and grabbing the girl, he turned his back, one arm lowering the machete as he prepared to hoist her up—

There! Zuko bent his arms, and with a flick of his wrists he flung both his dao swords at the merchant. They struck the merchant's clothes, pinning the man against the beetle. Before the man had time to even yell, Zuko was upon him. He yanked both blades out and struck the man across the skull with the flat side of the swords. He staggered, groaning, and then finally keeled over at Zuko's feet.

Zuko stared down at the man, the blood rushing through his temples. His chest heaved; his blades were slipping from his fingers. It had taken nearly everything out of him to fight all those men without firebending—but he couldn't risk it—especially not in such a hostile place.

Zuko reached up to the saddle. The girl. Sometime in the fight, her face covering had fallen, exposing a young face with coppery brown skin. Zuko's eyes widened. She could hardly be older than twelve. Her hair, which had been wrapped up in a tight bun, fell down in braids. The girl stared at him with the lightest of brown eyes, like the desert sand itself.

He shook himself, "Here," taking one of his blades and leaning towards the girl. She flinched. "No, I'm not going to hurt you," he said, and with his dao blade he began to saw through the ropes encircling her arms. The ropes dropped; the girl rubbed her wrists, which were red and raw. She glanced up at him again, fear still in her eyes.

"Are you alright?" Zuko asked, reaching out with one hand to help her down. The girl's gaze narrowed in response, and with a wave of her hands she raised a billow of sand, leaping off the saddle. Zuko stumbled backwards—the sand was in his eyes—but when he could finally see again, the girl was already atop one of the sand sailers. She summoned a tornado of sand, blowing it into the sail, and without even looking back, she was off across the desert, a rush of orange against the intense glare of the blue, cloudless sky.

Zuko sighed, picking himself off his feet. There was now sand in places he didn't want to think about. He rounded the side of the building, back to where he had left the feed bags… and discovered them missing. Stolen by another village vagabond, most likely. Figures.

As Zuko made his way to Kuro and untethered the anxious ostrich horse, he wondered about how much time he had lost in this sand-strewn village.

Zuko swung up onto the saddle. He officially hated the desert.

oOo

Sweat clung to his body and clothes as Zuko leaned against Kuro. The ostrich horse trudged heavily, each step lurching the boy against the saddle. They had been travelling for hours, and although it was now far past noon, the sun still shone with unrelenting heat. Zuko stared out with half-lidded eyes. Nothing but dunes. They should've crossed the desert by now. He blinked wearily. Unless they had veered too far east.

Zuko sat up and yanked Kuro's reins. As he spun the ostrich horse around in a circle, he squinted. Every direction looked the same: just sand as far as the eye could see.

Let's face it, we're completely lost. Low on food, low on water... was there any way they'd survive?

No. He was not going to just die out here, like some nameless peasant.

Never give up.

Zuko spurred Kuro, and the animal whimpered, standing in place. He must be exhausted. Zuko stroked the bird, reaching into a saddle pouch and grabbing an apple. He fed the fruit to Kuro, patting his beak. When the bird finished, Zuko coaxed Kuro forward; the ostrich horse reluctantly began moving again.

The sun was dipping lower. In a few hours it would be dusk, and what then? What would they do about shelter? Zuko buried his head in the horse's feathers. He'd worry about that when the time came, but not now. The sun was making him drowsy. He closed his eyes, willing sleep to drag him into darkness, away from the scorching heat and the blinding present...

Zuko faintly became aware of the rattling of a wind. At first he thought it was just another desert storm, but the sound drew nearer. He lifted his head.

Sand sailers approached from all sides. Zuko straightened, pulling out his dao swords, but he knew they wouldn't do much against what seemed to be at least thirty sandbenders.

The sailers halted ten meters away, surrounding him. From the largest sailer, a man leapt down.

"Hmm, what's a boy like you doing wandering the desert all alone?" the man asked, tilting his head in interest.

"What do you want?" Zuko's voice came out raspy.

"You should know what the penalty is for those who cross into Hami Tribe territory," the man replied gruffly, and he raised an arm, "men, seize his belongings."

Other sandbenders jumped down, circling Zuko. He reared Kuro up, and gripped his swords tighter. If he was going to die, he'd at least take down some of these savages with him.

"Father, wait!" a young voice cried out, and a girl jumped down next to the commanding man. Zuko's eyes widened. It was the girl he'd rescued from the mercenaries.

"Don't kill him!" she begged.

The man pushed the girl behind him with one hand. "Get back, Jiera," he said. "I don't want you involved."

"But he's the one who took out those beetle-headed merchants; he saved my life!"

The man swiveled back on Zuko. "He probably just wanted you for himself," he said with disgust.

The sandbenders around Zuko had frozen. "Kamal?" one of them asked.

"Continue," the man said, nodding.

Zuko rotated Kuro, breaths ragged. His muscles burned. He was still exhausted from fighting off those merchants. His throat was dry, and his eyelids drooped, but he had to fight.

The men moved closer, and together they summoned sand from beneath their feet. The air grew into a whirlwind of sand, and the men pressed it down upon Zuko.

Zuko heaved. He couldn't breath—the sand tore into his flesh—even Kuro's whines were whipped away. He crossed his dao swords in front of his face, trying to block out the storm, but it bore ever harder. Trapped. He really was going to die this way.

No! He wanted it gone-he wanted it to stop-but it wouldn't stop-

He was going to die-he wanted to be free—

In an anguished cry Zuko thrust his arms outward, and a burst of wind exploded from within him. The sand blew backwards, throwing the sandbenders off their feet. The air cleared.

The sandbenders stared up, mouths wide open.

"An airbender," Kamal murmured.

Zuko swayed. The last bit of strength left in his limbs had been drained. Dots of black began to overwhelm the blues and oranges of the desert and sky, and Zuko welcomed the oblivion. He toppled off his horse and fell to the sand, unconscious.

oOo

Air blew cool across Zuko's face. He twitched, but then pain flared across his brow and body. The pain was too much to move, much less open his eyes. Soft linens draped across his legs, and he became aware that he was lying on a bed. The low susurrations of a conversation filtered down through the darkness.

"He's asleep right now, but we cannot keep him much longer."

"Are you sure, Kamal? What about—"

"He's an outsider; he poses a threat to this tribe. And as the chief, it is my duty to protect the tribe."

"You've taken in outsiders before," another voice joined in, that of a woman.

"Ahma, what are you doing here?" the words came out as a hiss, but concern laced his voice.

"I came as soon as I heard. Is it true, then? This boy is an airbender?" her voice lifted in hope.

"Even so, he could be dangerous! Who knows where he's from? He could lure men in, destroy our village!"

"He's just a boy, Kamal," said the woman softly, and Zuko heard the rustling of fabrics. The woman was moving through the room.

"Ahma, stop—"

"His scar...must've been through a lot...how did he survive?" the woman spoke, almost to herself. Zuko could feel her breath on his skin—she must be close—but his limbs were too heavy to move.

"I can't believe it," the bed shook, and Zuko felt something hot and wet fall upon his cheek. Tears. The woman was crying.

"We've found another airbender."

Chapter Text

Book One: Air

Chapter Five: The Desert Part 2: Nomads

"Father, please!" the girl said breathlessly as she ran up to him, "let me come!"

In the gaining twilight, Kamal peered down at his daughter. Askew, her visor hung much too large on her face, and her pack was slipping down her shoulders with its weight. "The hunt is very dangerous, Jiera," he said, frowning. "Sandsharks can attack without warning. One wrong move—"

"I know, I know, but I'm prepared! I know how to shelter in sand storms and how to compass read. Please, father," she begged, "how can I become the Chieftess of the tribe if I can't help hunt? I promise I'll be very careful~!"

"Well...if you say so…" the man sighed, "oh, alright."

"Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" and before Kamal could blink he was tackled in a tight hug.

"But you must follow everything I say," Kamal warned, reaching down to stroke the girl's head. "Stay close to me, and make sure not to step in any sand sinks."

"I promise," she murmured, burying her head into her father's waist. "I won't let you down."

"Jiera, no!"

"Get away from her!"

"Father—!"

oOo

Kamal bent over his bag, carefully but swiftly packing it with the necessary tools one must have when traversing the desert: compasses, gilacorn skin canteens, medical linen, jelly-flares, and sandshark bone blades laced with buzzard-wasp venom—perfect for deterring predators, animal or otherwise. He straightened and adjusted his visor, already aware of the familiar pair of eyes on his back.

"I know you hate to leave," she said, tone slightly accusatory.

Kamal turned, expression hard beneath his visor. "The tribe must be fed."

She was leaning against the adobe walls of their quarters. The wrinkles at her eyes crinkled as she said, "can you believe it, finding another airbender? Soon you'll have too many in this village to handle."

"That's exactly my concern. The boy will draw mercenaries to our village like buzzard-wasps on a body." Kamal sighed. "He's too much trouble already. We've wasted nearly half a night's time bringing the boy here, when we needed to be out hunting."

"But he saved Jiera, didn't he?"

"Saved her? You don't know that. We don't know where he's from. He could be just like those sand thieves and merchants," he spat.

She moved in close, resting a hand on his linen-wrapped cheek. "It's not the boy you're worried about, is it?" she said.

"I—" he tore his gaze away, "I shouldn't have let her come."

"Kamal, it's not your fault," she rested her head against his shoulder.

"I knew the dangers. But I was foolish. As the chief, I can't afford to be foolish again. Ahma," he tucked a loose strand of her hair back into her head wrap, "I couldn't bear to lose you or her or any tribesman."

"I know, I'll have a talk with Jiera," she withdrew from him. "You must leave now. Be as swift as the desert wind," she said in the traditional Si Wong farewell, but then added softly, "be careful."

"I will," throwing a hood over his head, he went through the curtained doorway and into the night.

oOo

The lanterns swung as the ship glided into port, their lights dancing upon the water's surface like souls who had wandered across the ocean from the Spirit World. Suki clenched the windowsill, the encroaching lull of her vigil banished by the ship's silent arrival. One look at the vessel was enough for her to identify them: pirates. Although Suki thought the men nothing but dishonorable lowlifes, the village tolerated their presence, both for trading and for news from the outside—news of the war.

But the coil of tension in her stomach loosened slightly at the sight; it wasn't the Fire Nation. Every night since that Fire Nation ship had come—the one with Prince Zuko and the General—Suki had insisted on keeping watch on the harbor. She could still hear the hiss of flame as Commander Zhao, that monster, held up his fire and threatened to burn her village to the ground. She would not leave her village that unprepared again. Who knew when the next Fire Nation attack would come?

Suki nudged the girl slumped over against one of the shrine's support beams. "Chiyo, wake up."

The girl pulled her head up from her folded arms, blinking with bleary eyes. "Oh, is it my turn for the watch now?" she yawned.

"Not quite," Suki ran a hand through her bob, "but there's a ship that's docked and I want to check it out. Could you cover for me while I'm gone, please?"

Chiyo stood, stretching. "Sure," she said, crossing over to the window. A grin broke out on her painted face as she caught sight of the ship. "I should've known. It's just like you to get wound up about this."

Suki scowled. "I'm not wound up!"

"Pirates aren't not so bad, you know. Sometimes they can be funny. I even bought a jade necklace from them."

"I know, I know, I just—" Suki sighed, "I just want to be careful, alright?"

Chiyo rolled her eyes. "Oh, Suki, don't work yourself too hard. We know you're worried about the island's safety," her smile softened, "but it's our responsibility too. As Kyoshi Warriors. We're in this together."

Suki returned the smile. "Thanks, Chiyo," she said, and straightened her kimono, "I'll be back before you know it!"

"Get one of those pearl combs for me—!" Chiyo called after her.

Shaking her head in exasperation, Suki left the shadowed shrine and broke out into the cool autumn night air. She darted along the moonlit path, her feet familiar with every stone and root in its descent. As she fell into a smooth rhythm, the air stirring into a gently whispering breeze, her mind couldn't help but wander, back to that scarred boy and the wind that had flown from his fingertips...

oOo

Sounds sifted like sand through his ears, irritating and grainy, but Zuko closed his eyes even tighter, reluctant to break the spell of sleep.

"Is that him, is that the guy you were talking about?" someone, a young boy, spoke excitedly. Zuko could sense a candle flickering at the edge of the room, its light not yet penetrating within.

"Aang, ssssh!"

"Sorry," but he continued in the same loud whisper, "and you're sure you saw him airbend? No way, he could be a long-lost cousin!"

"You need to leave; you shouldn't be here!" the girl's voice was urgent.

"Is he like us, Aangy?" a little child, voice tremulous, asked.

"Hey, let's go find out!" Suddenly, wind blew across Zuko's cheek, and he felt the warmth of the candle by his side.

"Get back here, Aang!" hissed the girl from afar, but the boy remained, hovering. He brought the candle closer, leaning over Zuko. As the light fell upon Zuko's face, the boy took a sharp intake of breath. "What happened to him?" he whispered in wonder.

That was enough. With a growl, Zuko leapt up, tossing his sheets aside. He blinked, and the room swam into focus: he was in a small round hut. The boy let out a yell, falling on his backside and dropping the lamp in the process. Behind him, two figures jumped back, cowering behind the curtained doorway.

The boy recovered himself. "You're awake!" he said, grinning crookedly, "I thought you were going to sleep the whole night away, but I guess—" he caught sight of Zuko's expression. "Sorry," he added sheepishly.

Zuko stared stonily down at him. His eyesight was always worse at night, (and the dwindling light of the fallen candle didn't make things much better) but he could faintly make out the features of the boy. His head wrappings had fallen loose around his neck, and his hood was down, exposing a face paler than Zuko would've expected. The boy's dark hair stuck up like a camelroo had chewed on it.

"My name's Aang," said the boy. He motioned to the two faces poked through the doorway, "and these are my cousins, Harin and Jiera."

They finally emerged from the curtains, Jiera first. Her hair had been done up again in its braided bun, held high on her head. Behind her trailed a little boy. When he saw Zuko's face he gasped and darted behind Jiera.

Zuko was used to stares. He turned away. He needed to leave. "Where's my ostrich-horse?" his voice was rusty and tasted like the desert.

"He's secured outside," said Jiera, refusing to meet Zuko's gaze. "Near the water-catches—"

"Why were you riding an ostrich horse, anyways?" Aang interrupted, "when you could've used a sand sailer to cross the desert?"

"He's not from around here, Aang," Jiera argued, "he wouldn't have known that."

Zuko shook his head, trying to clear the leeching headache that had settled there. "Sand sailer?"

"You know," Aang's grin brightened, "airbend your way out of the desert?"

Zuko took a step back. The day before flooded into his mind—rescuing the girl, Jiera, being attacked by sandbenders, and finally, airbending as a last defense—and suddenly the children's conversation made sense. They thought he was an airbender.

"Me and Aangy are airbenders too," the little boy finally spoke, a soft chirp.

Despite the darkness, Zuko's vision glared like the noonday desert sun was peeking through the doorway. "Wha—" he managed.

"Don't worry, you're safe here now," assured Aang, "no one can come to the Hami Tribe unless we want them too."

There were airbenders here? But they were extinct! How had they survived the genocide?

"...I can see you're confused," said Jiera tartly, "Come with me. I was told to bring you for our meal," hand in hand with the little boy, she retreated through the doorway. The curtains flapped in her wake.

"You'll love it! Aunt Ahma makes the best stewed gilacorn!" Aang jumped up, his clothes fluttering as if by a breeze. Zuko stared. "and then afterwards you can show me your airbending moves!" he burst ahead through the doorway, but then popped his head back in. "Come on!"

Zuko didn't have much choice but to follow. Already the curls of hunger pressed deep within his stomach, and his throat only became more dry by the second. He stepped through after Aang, noticing that the material that draped the doorway wasn't fabric at all, but some sort of lizard skin.

Although no wind swept the dunes, the night still bore into him, and Zuko shivered at the sudden cold. Above, the stars glittered in their indigo blanket along with a perfect sliver of moon. Some distance away were more rounded huts, clustered together and halfway buried in sand. Lights glowed within the windows.

Aang skipped over the sand, following in Jiera's footsteps to a larger hut set near the center of the village. His laughs carried easily through the stilled air. Zuko would've cursed as he stumbled along, feet sinking into the sand, but he was too parched to talk much more. He leaned against the wall of the hut, throat rasping, before finally being yanked inside.

oOo

Suki joined her fellow Kyoshi Warrior, Ami, at the edge of the inn. Inside the village leader, Oyaji, was already deep in entertaining his guests.

"Can I get you men anything else?" the old man asked.

"How about your finest saki?" the captain gravelled, and the lizard-bird on his shoulder squawked in agreement. "and better make it complimentary," he added brusquely.

"Of course," Oyaji bowed low, bustling away to the throaty chuckles of the men.

Suki glowered. "To think they can get away with this…" she muttered.

Ami gave her a nudge, "Hey, they'll be gone soon."

Suki only huffed. "We shouldn't be treating them like royalty. Just look at that guy! He has a nose ring!"

"Making him all the more handsome," responded Ami gravely, and Suki couldn't help but laugh a little. Maybe she had been too worked up. Maybe she was seeing too much in things. Maybe it was because these men were sitting in the very room that only a few days before…

Yes, I'm the Avatar, Prince Zuko had said. I must return to my father's side. As unbelievable that the Prince was the Avatar, he ultimately was Fire Nation. That wouldn't change.

And yet, that power with which he moved to protect her, in his muscles and his fiery defiance—it reminded her of those paintings and stories of Kyoshi, of her hero. For a single suspended moment, she actually believed that Zuko could be the Avatar, in Spirit as well as body.

But then he'd been taken away, willingly, by that Zhao. And unbelievably, she'd found herself allying with the Dragon of the West.

Suki bit her lip. Where were they now?

No, she needed to focus on her duties. Which, right now, consisted of keeping a careful eye on these slimy pirates.

"...the Fire Navy's expanding its reach," the captain said gruffly, setting down his glass with a thunk. "And the Army is slowly devouring the Northern Earth Kingdom. Rumor has it they'll reach Ba Sing Se by spring."

"And the Southern Earth Kingdom?" Oyaji asked.

"Navy's making their way down the coast. I wouldn't be surprised if they're on their way to Omashu as we speak."

Oyaji's hands whitened on the drink tray.

"Oh, don't worry, old man," another pirate, voice oily, said. A wisp of a mustache clung to his upper lip. "They won't do much harm to your little village," He leered at Suki and Ami, "as long as you have these pretty girls."

Suki suddenly had the urge to break his arm, but she stopped, seething in silence.

"Speaking of the Navy," continued the captain, "they've put quite a hefty price on someone, probably just another deserter." He shrugged a scroll out from beneath his robes and unfurled it across the table. "See anyone like this?"

The men leaned in. The oily man let out a long whistle, "That's quite a scar he's got there," he remarked.

Scar? Suki's feet carried her across the room; she was shoving men aside and craning her head. She caught sight of the poster: a pale young man, hair tied up in the traditional phoenix tail, stared back at her with those empty gold eyes. A red and ugly burn marred one side of his face.

Zuko.

oOo

Upon entering the room he was greeted by a tall woman. She sat cross-legged at a low circular table, her forehead and hair covered by wraps. She smiled at him, and Zuko saw that her gray eyes were brimming with tears.

"Welcome," she said, "please sit."

Zuko swallowed dryly and kneeled opposite to her, between Aang and Jiera. Aang flashed him an eager grin. Various dishes were laid upon the table, their foreign scents overpowering; it took all his effort to maintain a straight face. Jiera was silently leaning over, pouring water out of a clay urn. The rush of the clear liquid made his throat prickle, and he seized the cup, nearly choking on the water as he gulped it down. When he'd finished he found all eyes bearing into him.

"I assume you've met Aang, and my children: Jiera and Harin. My name's Ahma. And yours?"

"Lee." his eyes traced the rim of the cup.

"Lee," Zuko could hear the smile in her voice, "welcome to the Hami Tribe. May you find rest from your travels here."

There was a shifting as the family began to eat, reaching into the shallow clay bowls with their fingers. Zuko felt dirty using his fingers to eat—he itched for a pair of chopsticks—but he politely followed suit, gingerly taking a few bites of the dry and strangely textured food (was that the wing of a buzzard-wasp?). It was food all the same, though, so Zuko ate, and the burning hollowness within him subsided.

"We do not find many wanderers in the desert," Ahma began, "especially not an…" she paused, "airbender." The word was nearly inaudible, as if simply uttering the word out loud would cause the reality of him being an airbender to vanish like a mirage. The woman recovered herself. "How did you find yourself here?"

"Uh, yes, I'm a traveler." he said lamely.

"From where?" she prodded gently, studying him with her gray eyes, "where are you from, Lee?"

"From the—" his pale skin and golden eyes marked him as different from most Earth Kingdom commoners, "from the Fire Nation colonies. I was...escaping. " It was partly true, anyhow. And wasn't that what an airbender would do, flee from those who were trying to kill him?

Her eyes flicked to his scar, and her expression grew gentler. "I understand. You're a refugee. I was once a refugee myself, along with my sister, Hisa. The Hami Tribe is the only place where we felt at home."

"So you're Fire Nation?" piped up Aang. "I mean," he added hastily, "I've never actually seen anyone from the Fire Nation, but I thought you looked a little different—"

"Aang, don't pester him," scolded Ahma, "his past is his own."

"Sorry—"

"How long will he be staying?" Jiera asked, tone neutral. Her eyes remained trained on her dish.

"Will he have to share my room?" Harin asked anxiously.

"Harin," Ahma gave a light laugh, "he'll have his own space, don't you worry—"

"No," Zuko pushed himself up from the table, "I can't stay here. I need to be moving on."

Ahma's gray eyes widened. "It's almost sunrise—if you try to leave, you'll die from exposure."

Zuko paused. Through the gaps in the curtained doorway, the sky was lightening, stars fading into blue.

"You must be exhausted. Why don't you rest here a little longer?" Ahma smiled again, and Zuko saw it was without deception. He felt his will weakening. And his limbs did feel like lead. "Aang and Harin, it's time for you to head to bed as well. Why don't you take Lee back to his quarters?"

"What about airbending practice?"

"You can do that later. Go to bed, now."

Zuko was so worn out, he didn't even protest when Aang and Harin tugged on his arm, leading him through the doorway. "To bed?" he asked dully.

"Yea, us desert nomads sleep during the day and wake at night," Aang explained.

"Oh." Zuko's strength was draining with every step. He staggered onto the sand just as the vibrant oranges and pinks of dawn were breaking over the clear, empty sky.

oOo

Jiera moved to stand up too, but her mother's words rooted her to the spot: "Jiera, stay here. I need to talk to you for a moment."

Jiera rubbed the rim of her glass. "What?" she snapped.

"About last night…"—Jiera's insides froze—her mother sighed. "I wanted to let you know that it wasn't your fault."

Jiera's eyes burned. "Sure," she mumbled.

"The sand scavengers could've attacked anyone. Neither your father nor I blame you for what happened."

"No, Mother," she met Ahma's gaze fiercely, "It was my fault. I convinced Father to take me, despite me being so weak and untrained. If I hadn't been so foolish, then maybe!" she rattled in a breath, tears raking down her cheeks, "then maybe I wouldn't have been taken."

Ahma wrapped an arm around her daughter, feeling the girl's back shake as she leaned in, "Oh, Jiera, you should listen to yourself," she chuckled softly, "you sound just like your father. Always shouldering burdens that aren't yours bear. And because of that," she brushed a tear away from Jiera's cheek, "I think you will make a great Chieftess one day."

Jiera's soft brown eyes blinked. "R-really?"

"Really. You'll be the greatest Chieftess in the whole Si Wong desert." Ahma gripped her girl even tighter and looked out through the doorway upon the desert: the place that, despite its hostility and scorching heat, gave her refuge, found a lost scarred boy, and brought her daughter home.

oOo

He rubbed his eyes. Despite the exhaustion fraying the edges of his awareness, Zuko couldn't sleep. He had dozed off for a few hours, but woke again just as the sun rose up into its burning heat. Although the room was dark (the hut's curtains could be fastened so no light or sand from the desert could drift in), he could still feel the path of the sun across the sky as deeply as his own heartbeat. It was out there, just beyond his reach.

The darkness was suffocating, choking him. It wasn't right to be asleep when the sun was up. Zuko flung up from his cot; he crossed the room to fiddle with the curtains. Finally working them loose, he passed through the curtains, into the beautiful, burning world outside.

Zuko breathed in, feeling the warmth on his skin, and breathed out in a sigh. He stood there, closing his eyes for a moment, letting his skin soak up the light he had so desperately missed. No sound but the whispering of sand beneath his feet reached his ears. No one would disturb him now. Just him, alone against the desert and the high, empty sky.

Without a direction, his feet began to move through the sand; instead of sinking with every step he now treaded across on the sand's top layer. The previous night, the Hami Tribe had given him a full set of sandbender clothes, including a pair of sand-boots. And although he didn't have to wear his black outfit (which drew in heat upon his skin like ant-flies upon fresh fruit), and the sandbender robes were light and breathable, Zuko didn't like their touch on his skin. Despite their wear and tears, and the fact that they were ill-suited for the desert, his old clothes were the last remnants of home. Wearing sandbender attire—this foreign material—it felt like a relinquishment of his identity. He wasn't a sandbender; he didn't belong here. He needed to be on his way, to Daihai Bay and to the Fire Nation. He was the Avatar…

The Avatar. Zuko paused in his step. He had almost forgotten. The desert seemed intent to wear away his memories of before, of the cold Patola Mountains and of the discovery he had made there. Air. He had bent the element, what, maybe three times now? And look where it got him, deep into a quicksand of mistaken identity and lies. He was an airbender to them, not Fire Nation, and certainly not a prince.

But it was true then. There were other airbenders still alive. It had been his whole mission—to find the last airbenders, hadn't it? He could go straight to his father, reveal their hiding place, and become a hero. Finally restore his honor.

Zuko weaved his way through the huts. Their windows were drawn shut, shuttered against the blinding day. His feet moved faster; his head had cleared. Shff, shff, shfff…

To his surprise, the air grew cooler and less arid as he reached a small clearing. One building faced him, its door wide and uncurtained, stretching halfway around the circumference of the clearing. It curved like a centipede-worm, as if at one point the building was many smaller huts huddled close together. Several tarps were strung up, stretching from the roofs of the huts over the sky, casting the clearing in shadow. The tarps caved and bent inwards, forming small funnels at intervals. And nestled in the sand at the base of the funnels were several pots. As he passed by one of the pots Zuko peered into it—his reflection stared back. Water.

A squawking and a flutter of wings shook him from his place. It echoed from the building's entrance. He rushed through the doorway, the musty smell saturating his sinuses instantly. The stable was filled with pens of various desert animals: camel-rhinos, camelroos, komodo-scorpions... and there, in the midst of them all, tethered to a post, Kuro cawed joyfully.

Zuko's hands found themselves upon the bird's beak; he stroked Kuro as he surveyed the saddle. It didn't seem like anything was taken. He could mount Kuro right now, fill the canteens up with the water outside, and be on his way out the desert. On his way home. But upon untying Kuro's reins, Zuko hesitated.

If he left now, would he even be able to find his way out of the desert? Or would he become lost again, dying slowly of dehydration? Just another skeleton picked apart by buzzard-wasps. A failure, a prince forgotten in his banishment.

His hands shook on the reins, and he threw them down on the floor. He was trapped. Unless he found someone to lead him out, he was never going to leave the desert. They were going to keep him here, and he was going to become just another sand tribesman.

Zuko's eyes fluttered. He was so helpless. He ran his fingers through Kuro's feathers, their silky touch soothing against his cracked skin.

Helpless, helpless, helpless…

oOo

He was in trouble. She kicked the bag. That Commander Zhao was after him. She swung her blades, severing a piece of practice rope. No, her duty was to her Warriors. She jumped off the balance beam, ducking and rolling with the blades close to her chest. But he could be hurt, or worse, dead—

"Hah, hah, hahhh—!" the air whistled as Suki lunged, the fan flying out of her fingertips. It spun out, slicing the head of a dummy clean off its shoulders.

Suki wiped a trickle of sweat off her brow. She placed a hand on her hips, admiring her handiwork. Not bad.

"You're going to spend all your time chopping Fire Nation heads instead joining us for dinner, huh?"

Suki turned. Chiyo was leaning against the door frame. Behind her the sun was just beginning to sink beneath the horizon, throwing Chiyo's shadow into the room.

"Oh, I didn't realize how late it had gotten, sorry Chiyo," Suki sheathed her fans. "I'll be right down, I promise."

Chiyo passed over the threshold, arms still crossed. "You only become so focused on training if you're troubled by something. Now, why don't you tell me what's bothering you? Don't tell me it's those pirates from last night."

"No, no, no…it's only—" Suki paused. "Chiyo, why did you join the Kyoshi Warriors?"

Chiyo's usually mirthful face grew thoughtful. "I don't know. I guess it was because when we were little girls you were always so excited about Avatar Kyoshi. I mean, she was your hero, but with your games and such, you made her my hero too. Remember Kyoshi Girls?"

Suki smiled back, "How could I forget?"

Simultaneously, they pumped their fists into the air and cried, "Kyoshi Girls~! Kicking boys' butts and fighting for justice!"

They broke into giggles.

"You always played the evil Fire Nation soldier," Suki said, stifling her laughs with her hand.

"Yeah, because whenever there weren't any boys who wanted to play, we had to draw sticks, and somehow I always got the short one!" Chiyo said hotly. She then sighed, "But... after that Fire Nation attack, when your parents died, it sort of stopped being a game. When you decided to follow in Kyoshi's footsteps and become a Warrior, well…" Chiyo shrugged, "I couldn't help but get pulled along. You made us all want to be Warriors."

Suki bit her lip. "Really? Even though I couldn't stop that Fire Nation ship from coming a few days ago?"

Chiyo snorted. "Are you serious? Even the way you stood up to that Fire Nation Commander...you're inspiring, Suki."

Suki's cheeks grew hot, and she averted her gaze. Absentmindedly, she unsheathed a fan, staring into its mirrored depths, seeing instead of her reflection the scarred face of that boy she could never forget.

"No…" she said softly, "It's the Avatar who is inspiring."

oOo

"Lee, are you going to sleep the whole night away? Lee, I've gotta show you my airbending! Lee, wake up, Lee—!"

Zuko shook himself awake. He groaned, rubbing his cheek. He could still feel the imprints of feathers there. Sometime in the late afternoon he had fallen asleep. Kuro lay curled up beside him. The bird let out a little chirp as Zuko straightened.

A face popped into view. "C'mon, let's go!"

Zuko got up to his feet. Aang was whirling around the stable, but Harin stood shyly by Zuko's side.

"Is this your ostrich-horse?" The little boy asked.

"His name's Kuro."

"Can I pet him?"

Zuko stared down at the boy, about to snap out a decisive no, but Harin was already reaching out with wonder in his eyes.

Harin let out a yelp as Kuro lifted his head, retreating his arm, but after steadying his shaking hands, the boy continued. He touched the bird's head, and Kuro nuzzled the boy's tiny palm.

"He likes me," Harin whispered.

The bird cooed, and Harin gave the smallest sliver of a smile.

Zuko tore his eyes away and found himself face to face with Aang, whose grin was as wide as ever. "We can't do any airbending practice just yet; Aunt Ahma says we have gotta do our chores first. But if you help us, we can get them done twice as fast!"

"Chores?"

"Let me show you!"

oOo

It was their job to collect all the water from the water catches, work that turned out to be long and tedious. Harin, being the lightest, would scamper up to the tarps overhanging the clearing, and with quick and deft movements, would shift the tarps from whatever position the wind had blown them into and back to the optimal dew-collecting arrangement. Zuko and Aang, on the other hand, would heft the jugs of water from their places in the sand and empty them into a deep underground reservoir. However, it was mostly Zuko who did the lifting; Aang bounced and chatted beside him.

"What are the Fire Nation colonies like? Are they as hot as the desert? Do you ever see any earthbenders? How many airbenders are there in the colonies?"

"I don't know," Zuko said, grunting as he lifted one particularly heavy jug.

"But how can you not know? Were your parents or grandparents airbenders?"

Zuko slammed the jug down with a thunk. "I don't know—be quiet!" he snapped.

Aang shrank back. "Sorry, I just, I've never been outside the Hami Tribe. I've never even met another airbender outside my family before. But—" he brightened, "that was the last jug. All our work is done now! I guess you don't have to tell me about airbending from your colonies, you can just show me! C'mon!"

oOo

They stood on the outskirts of the warren, the sand stretching in front of them to the darkened horizon. "Don't worry," Aang said, walking out into the sand, "the Hami Tribe is in the middle of the Si Wong desert; nobody's going to see us."

"And if they did," Harin piped up, "we'll get them! Yah, yah yah!" he made a chopping motion with his arms, sending out a little burst of wind.

"So the first move I know is the airbending sweep," Aang said, "Harin, are you ready?"

"Oh!" Harin paused in his imaginary fight and whirled around, "Ready!"

Aang breathed in deeply, and then, suddenly, he ducked to the ground, one leg extended while the other one was crouched beneath his weight. He spun around, his leg kicking up a whirlwind of air. He stopped as his leg pointed at Harin, and the wind was released. It blew towards Harin, knocking him clean off his feet.

"Ouch, Aaaang!" Harin whined, splayed out on the sand.

"Sorry Harin!" Aang said as he bounded over to the boy. He helped pick him up. "I guess I got a little too excited, after all, it's not every day you get to show another airbender your moves!"

Aang backed up again. "That move is great for defense against an opponent if they're coming at you or anything. But there's lots others too, like—"

"Aangy, show him the air scooter, show him the air scooter!"

Aang brightened. "Oh, yeah, how could I forget?! This is a move I made up entirely on my own! Watch this!"

Aang held his hands apart and concentrated. The air between his fingers whipped faster and faster until it became a sphere of spinning wind. "You first make a ball like this and then—" he slowly moved his hands downward and apart, allowing the sphere to gather more air. It expanded until it was half as large as the boy.

"You have to now jump on it!" Aang leaped up onto the ball, wobbling slightly, "Woah—!" but soon righted himself. "That's the hardest part; you have to balance on it like a top. But once you get it down, you can—"

Aang moved forward with the ball, and he flew across the ground, the sand rising in his wake. He darted around, laughing as he circled Harin. Zuko's vision blurred as he struggled to follow Aang's movement.

Finally Aang let the airball dissipate, and he floated back to the ground. "So, what do you think, Lee? Pretty neat, huh?"

Zuko made no effort to move from the adobe wall he was leaning against. "Very nice," he droned.

"Now it's your turn! Show us your stuff!"

"...I'll pass."

"Pllleasse? I've never seen an airbender's skills outside my tribe before! What kind of things did you learn?!"

"I, uh…" What could he even say? He'd only airbent a few times, how would he know what an airbender would do?

"Aang, that's enough," Zuko turned and saw a tall woman approach them. It took a moment for Zuko to recognize her, as her entire body was wrapped in an outer layer that left only her eyes exposed. Ahma.

"But—"

"He doesn't have to say anything if he doesn't want to," she said calmly, "And if I recall, you two should've been helping Jiera with the sand sailer repair an hour ago," she added.

Aang leapt into the air, "sorry, I forgot!" he darted across the sand.

"That boy…" Ahma shook her head, "Ah well. Come with me, Lee," she said, turning to him. "I have something I want you to see," her eyes crinkled beneath her wrapped face, so Zuko thought she might've smiled.

Ahma's step was nearly silent; she walked as if the sand was air. Zuko followed, albeit much more slowly. Not used to the sand-shoes yet, he tripped through the sand, falling several paces behind her.

They reached the same hut Zuko had eaten in the night before, at least, he thought it was the same hut—it was hard to tell amidst the shifting sands and identical rounded domes. Ahma held the curtains open, waiting patiently for Zuko as he stumbled through the doorway. His feet scattered sand across the adobe floor; Ahma's had left no trace. Another reminder he was an intruder in this land.

"Make yourself comfortable, Lee," Ahma said, fastening the curtains shut. Zuko surveyed the room. Unlike the night before, the table was cleared.

"I am sorry; we didn't find you until after we had finished our meal." Ahma crossed to the hearth at the far side of the room. Before the fireplace lay a long rug strewn with cushions. Ahma sat. "But you may fill yourself after we talk."

Zuko settled himself on a cushion, crossing his legs in the lotus pose. Beside him fire crackled in the hearth, its light playing merrily against the wall. He turned his face towards the heat. The warmth was a comfort to him in this stranger's home.

Ahma reached into the hearth, plucking a tea kettle from its depths. The kettle's metal gleamed as she poured tea into two cups.

"This tea kettle is the last remnant of my home," she said, handing Zuko his cup. Its contents steamed; Zuko was suddenly reminded of Uncle.

"Like you, we were forced to move from place to place, but we always brought this kettle." Ahma cradled it in her lap. "It had been passed to my mother, who had received it from her mother. My grandmother was only a young woman when the Fire Nation attacked the Eastern Air Temple, but she remembered it vividly. The nuns placed the children on the backs of the last bison; my grandmother clung to the saddle and watched her burning home fade into the distance."

The fire flared. Zuko's mind whirled. He'd been taught that the Fire Nation killed everyone in the raids. There were no survivors…

"It was easier, at first. The Earth Kingdom had found out about the genocide, and were happy to take care of the girls. But as the war escalated, food became scarce. Why would a family feed an airbender when they could sell her to the Fire Nation for a bag of rice?"

Ahma's voice faded like dying embers. "Many of us died, and the rest were forced to go into hiding. With each generation there were fewer and fewer airbenders. We are almost gone."

Zuko set his cup down. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because, Lee, although you may be Fire Nation, you are still one of us." Ahma reached across and clutched his hand. She stared into his eyes. Her gaze was gentle, like someone he knew long ago...

Zuko, remember who you are.

"The airbenders are not gone. My grandmother passed her knowledge to my mother, and her to me and my sister." Ahma clutched his hand tighter. "...I said I wanted to show you something."

With one hand still in Zuko's, Ahma reached up behind her head. She loosened the wrappings, and slowly they peeled off her face, falling to her shoulders.

Zuko didn't breathe. In the firelight's glow, Ahma's hair cascaded, black and full. Her face was soft and pale. But tattooed on her forehead, in a light blue, was an arrow.