Chapter Text
“It is a gilded city, after all, is it not?”
That was what every fresh-faced foreigner who stumbled off a ship in Yue Bay said, a greedy gleam in their eyes as they feasted on Republic City for the first time. That was the image this city projected to the world, a city choked in wealth, opportunities to be plundered, if only one had the willpower to take it. A city painted in light, where night never touched. A shining beacon of progress, established by the heroes of a dead generation, a tiny plot of land squashed between the Four Nations, an eternal symbol of lasting peace and international cooperation and everything else politicians liked to prattle on about.
“Is it not, Miss Katara?”
Katara blinked, shaken out of her reverie. “Oh, yes. It most certainly is.”
The truth was, this merchant had no idea just how right he was. It certainly was a gilded city. Peel away that paper-thin layer of gold, and look at all the rot that lurked beneath. The streets were not painted with light, but with blood. Revolutions rose and died, fueled by the anger of the desperate. The Fire Nation and Earth Kingdom at its edges grew restless, hungry for a chance to reclaim the land for themselves. Corrupt politicians believed they ruled this city, but they could not even control their own basest desires. The true rulers of this city were the gangs.
“That’s why I’m so excited we can do business.” The merchant was still talking. “If you could tell your father–”
“Let me stop you right there, Mr. Varrick,” Katara interrupted. “I will be telling my father nothing. Lord Hakoda is far too busy to deal with every merchant who walks into this city. That is what I am here for. And we will not be doing any business. Anything you can sell us, we have twenty others who can sell it to us better, faster, and cheaper. Have a good rest of your night.” She got up to leave.
“But–”
Katara sighed. “You can operate in our territory, and you will pay us tribute. That is all I can offer you.”
“There’s something else I haven’t told you. There’s something else I have…”
She rolled her eyes and let them wander. Katara tried to stay focused on her missions, but this merchant was just so boring. She tuned him out and started watching the performance on stage at the nightclub. Suki was, as always, effortlessly graceful as she danced, a vision with her face painted like an opera singer and the bronze edges of her fans flashing under the lights.
Varrick suddenly gripped her hand, and she recoiled. “Don’t touch me.”
There was an unnerving glint in his eye now. “I have a drug. A new drug. It will change everything.”
Katara wrinkled her nose. Of course the Full Moon Triad was involved in the opium trade; criminal empires were fueled by addiction. But it was nasty business. “No, thank you.”
“I call it jintu,” Varrick went on. Katara was starting to wonder if she needed to check his hearing. “There’s nothing like it on the market. We could–”
Katara fixed him with a deadly glare. “If you’re trying to market something, maybe think of a better name than ‘golden dirt’. Good bye, Mr. Varrick.”
Apparently, he could still hear the note of warning in her voice. With a nod, he stuffed his papers back into his bag and scurried away, disappearing into the crowd.
Except one paper, left on the table’s grimy surface. A detailed description of jintu and its properties, everything from its acidity to the distinctive shape of its crystals. Varrick probably thought himself clever, leaving it to plant a seed in Katara’s mind, to worm its way into her thoughts to feed her curiosity until she would be desperate to learn more. Katara wadded the paper into a ball without a second thought and stuffed it into a pocket to throw away later.
The whining strings of the erhu wound to their end as Suki executed her last glittering leaps. Polite applause rippled over the nightclub. Ready to head home, Katara made her way backstage to say her goodbyes.
Suki was already shrugging out of her dark green kimono and wiping her face with a rag, smearing red and white all over her face. Katara knocked on one of the beams propping up the stage’s painted background. “Is my brother here?”
Suki glanced up. “No, Sokka was too busy today. Heir business, you know.”
Of course. As Hakoda’s eldest child, set to inherit the criminal empire of the Full Moon Triad, Sokka always had a lot on his plate. Still… “He always seems to manage to make time for you, though.”
Suki scowled. “What are you talking about? He doesn’t even come to watch me dance. He just sits in the back and reads his ledgers, or whatever it is he does.”
“Oh, he watches you. Trust me.” Katara laughed and swatted away the dirty rag Suki tossed at her. “Good night, Suki.”
“Good night,” Suki grumbled, still pretending at being miffed. As Katara pulled on her coat and walked away, though, Suki called after her. “Someone was asking for you outside.”
Katara turned. “Who?”
Suki shrugged. “I don’t know. I just overheard.”
After Varrick, the last thing Katara wanted to deal with was a merchant who couldn’t even arrange a meeting through the proper channels. “They can sit out there in the dark all night, for all I care.”
She whistled under her breath as she stepped out into the night. Any other girl would have tied off her braid with a blue ribbon or made sure a silver moon pendant was dangling from her neck, but Katara didn’t need that kind of armor. Anyone in this part of the city would have immediately recognized her, Hakoda’s ferocious daughter, dangerous in her beauty. As much of a princess as this modern city would allow. Everyone knew to step out of her way, bow respectfully, and not a single person would dare…
She froze as she felt the press of something against the small of her back, the cold of the pistol’s barrel seeping through her coat. The natural reaction would have been immediate panic, but Katara had long leached fear from her bones. Only steely resolve remained now. Some little dragon had lost their way, wandered too far from the nest, with enough foolhardy ambition to threaten royalty, and they were going to pay for it dearly now. “If you think…”
“Didn’t you hear, Katara?” The rasp that sounded in her nightmares and daydreams alike. “I want a meeting.”
The icy strength that had filled her evaporated immediately. Her heart suddenly felt like it would erupt from her chest, there was no way he was supposed to be here, he was supposed to be gone, she would never see him again…
A choked sob welled up in her throat, like no time had passed at all. Like she was fourteen all over again. But she wasn’t. Three years had passed, and she had grown into something monstrous.
Cold despair ignited into fiery rage. Faster than he could react, she whirled around, knocking the gun out of his hand and throwing herself onto him with enough force to slam him to the ground. A thin blade whistled out of her sleeve, and she barely managed to stop herself from pressing so hard that his hot blood gushed over them both. “You must have a death wish,” she hissed, “the heir of the Dragon Gang coming onto my territory.”
“I needed to see you,” Zuko snarled.
He must have meant whatever it is he wanted to meet about, but she couldn’t help the instinctive jolt those words sent through her, the way they curled in the bottom of her stomach. “I don’t care what you need,” she snapped. “Not anymore. Not ever.”
“Listen, Katara. Just give me two minutes and I’ll go.” As she was about to refuse, something cold pressed again, this time to her stomach. “Did you think I only had one gun?” Zuko asked, with the slightest hint of infuriating sardonicism.
Deadlocked, almost literally, Katara reluctantly let him stand. Simultaneously, she sheathed her knife as he holstered his gun, and she tried not to think about how easily their movements mirrored each other. She crossed her arms and glared at the alley’s muddy ground, having not yet met his eyes and now even more unwilling to do so, irrationally afraid of what might happen if she did. “Hurry up, then. Two minutes.”
“Are you actually counting?” he growled.
She wasn’t. “Yes. Hurry up.”
“You are still so–”
“You’ve already wasted thirty seconds.”
“That was not thirty seconds.”
“After two minutes, I will scream and you will have fifteen men on top of you before you can blink. Start talking.”
“You think I can’t kill fifteen men?”
Katara scoffed, but a little part of her thought he might be able to. “Sure. Hurry up.”
“I need your help, Katara.”
She laughed bitterly. He had just come here to offer her more silver-tongued lies. “What could you possibly need my help with?”
He took a step closer. “Haven’t you heard the rumors? Something is happening to this city.”
“What rumors, Zuko, something is always happening to this city–”
“Katara.” Something in his tone made her eyes snap to his. They were just as she remembered, luminescent and golden, almost glowing in the dark. She used to stare into them, two suns that burned just for her, that she thought burned just for her, as they danced on rooftops in the twilight and she foolishly believed everything would be okay–
Her heart wrenched. And a gasp died in her throat as she took in the rest of his face. Half of it twisted and mangled beyond recovery, the perfect skin she used to trace with her lips now lost to layers of crimson scar tissue. He had not looked like that the last time she saw him, three years ago, what could have happened…
“Katara.” Her name coming out of his mouth brought her crashing back down to reality. “Something dark is coming. Something evil.”
She could name twenty dark and evil things that happened in her backyard every day, but the way he said it made a chill sweep over her. The shadows seemed to thicken as the wind rose in the distance, a faint howl in the night. And then, as if Zuko had unleashed a curse with his words, as if by simply alluding to it he had summoned it out of the darkness, the screaming began.
The nightclub. Without thinking, Katara charged towards it, just as the crowd inside became a rising, pulsing tide of panic. No one seemed to know what was going on, but they could all taste it in the air, something sharp and acidic, something unnatural. She forced her way inside, pushing against the flood of people trying to flee.
A wide circle had formed around a lone figure staggering to the center of the room. He tripped over an overturned chair and collapsed with a thud. Katara watched with growing, sickening horror as he writhed, throwing his head back and letting out an unearthly howl, one that didn’t even sound like something a human should be able to make.
Was he drunk? Mentally unwell? There were plenty of strange people at this hour of night, but every frozen spectator could sense that something different was happening here. As his bones cracked and he clawed angry red gouges across his face, Katara had the same odd feeling she had when she stared down into the Hei River, that she was only seeing the surface and there was something much larger and invisible shifting down beneath the waves, coiling restless where the sun didn’t reach.
As she started towards him, a firm grip closed around her wrist. “Don’t, Katara,” Zuko hissed. “It’s too dangerous.”
She wrenched herself out of his grasp. “Don’t tell me what to do,” she snapped back. “And you need to get out of here.” He was incredibly stupid to follow her, and incredibly lucky that all the Full Moons in the crowd were so transfixed by what was happening that they didn’t notice their sworn enemy among them.
Her hand drifted towards her gun as she approached cautiously, but he seemed to only be a danger to himself. As she drew closer, she realized she vaguely recognized him. His name escaped her, but he had certainly seen him a few times on the docks, loading and unloading ships. Always with a blue scrap of cloth tied around his arm. He was a Full Moon. One of her people.
She slowly knelt by his side. “Hello? Can you hear me? Are you okay?” Whatever throes he had been in seemed to have released its grip on him. He lay on his back, eyes unfocused and staring blankly up at the ceiling, panting shallowly.
Katara wanted to call for a doctor, but she was afraid any sudden movement or loud noise might trigger him again. Gently, she laid a hand on his shoulder, but suddenly he went rigid. With blinding speed, his fingers clamped around her wrist. Katara gasped and tried to pull away, but his grip was like an iron vise. She began to lose feeling in her hand.
Slowly, almost mechanically, his head swiveled to stare at her. Katara suppressed a shriek as she saw that his pupils were blown so wide that his eyes were almost completely inky black. A rattling whisper dragged itself out from between his teeth.
“What?” The last thing Katara wanted to do was lean closer, but she was desperate for any clue to what had made him like this.
“ Wàn,” he whispered. “Ten thousand years of darkness.”
Katara shook her head, still not understanding. Ten thousand years of darkness? What did that mean?
Roughly, he yanked her closer. There was something nauseatingly sweet in his breath, like the smell of rotting fruit. “It’s coming.” His voice grinded out the ominous words against her ear, a whisper that made her shiver.
“What is? What’s coming?” she demanded. But she received no answer. His entire body went slack all at once, like whatever unseen force had been pulling him alone suddenly had its strings cut. His head lolled limply. Black blood dripped from his mouth, his nose, the corners of his eyes.
Numbly, Katara stepped back and motioned for someone to come clean up. Her heartbeat pounded in her skull. What in the Four Nations had just happened, right in front of her? Despite the panic rising in her throat, it had not escaped her that the man’s last words had been eerily similar to what Zuko said. It’s coming.
She ran her eyes over the crowd, murmurs beginning to break out now that the bizarre show had finished, but he had disappeared like she told him to. He’d mentioned rumors, too. Apparently her ear wasn’t as attuned to this city as she thought it was. Still trembling, Katara rushed towards home.
