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Chapter Text

As the canopy of the trees overhead grew denser, the light streaming in from above became scarcer. Though there technically was no sun or moon—no day or night—within the Spirit World, Korra had come to learn that this realm was much like the spirits themselves: while mostly filled with light, there were dark corners to be found. Even with the light that she carried within her as the Avatar, dark places would always exist. And Korra had never seen this one before.

She was drawn to it now by strange visions of familiar faces, ones that she recognized but couldn't quite place. The Spirit World was like that, always pulling her to places with the intent to show her something, and with all of her time spent exploring it she'd come to trust those feelings. Still, that didn't leave her with any less apprehension as she walked between the old and twisted trees. She hadn't seen a single person, spirit, or animal since she'd crossed the forest's threshold. Something about that wasn't right.

As it got darker, Korra extended her hand out in front of her, igniting a flame in her palm to cast light upon the trees. Shadows danced all around her with the flickering of the flame, almost disorienting her as they played with the corner of her eye. She stopped, hand pressed against the wood of an old tree, staring forward into the darkness, and then looked back over her shoulder. The light she had been so certain was just behind her was now gone, as though she'd somehow crossed into the center of the woods. The sudden silence and the stillness of the forest became suffocating.

"Maybe this was a bad idea," she muttered to herself softly. Korra's eyes wandered up the tree she leaned against, trying to gauge the height of it. The thick trunk was so tall that the nearest branches were more than a dozen feet above her head. Putting out the flame in her hand, Korra took a deep breath, crouched down, and then leapt upwards, bending the air around her to help her gain height. She grabbed onto the lowest hanging branch with both hands, swinging herself up onto it with a grunt of effort.

Even higher up as she was, there was no difference in lighting; the canopy was still towering above her, blotting out any light or view of the surrounding forest. Korra let out a breath, sparks flying from her mouth, flowing as a stream of fire and forming into an orb. She lifted her hand and directed the orb forward, lighting up the forest around her as she did, trying to get a more clear idea of a path.

She found one. But it was incredibly suspicious.

Some of the relatively smaller trees had broken trunks and missing branches, and the forest floor was littered with splinters, like the trees had been ripped apart from the inside out. All of the vines and undergrowth in that area were colored black and dark brown, shriveled and dried out. Korra briefly worried that the fire orb would set the area ablaze, and adjusted her makeshift lamp to draw away from the dry brush.

Hesitantly, she climbed forward on the tree's bough, willing the fire orb a bit further. Though this clearing had been hit the worst, there was evidence of yet more destruction leading into the trees.

Her instincts told her that following whatever had done this was clearly a bad idea, but as her gaze scanned the debris, a hushing wind suddenly broke the stillness. It blew in the direction of the path, and carried with it the sound of indistinct whispers. As the wind played with the orb of fire, it cast shapes all around the clearing, more familiar faces appearing in the shadows. When Korra blinked, the wind was gone, and so was the vision of faces.

She let out a soft sigh, and gave a rolling shrug with one shoulder. "Alright, Spirit World. You win. I'll follow your spooky ominous path through the woods if it'll make you happy." Korra made a bit of a pout before slipping off the branch, hands gripping the wood as she swung herself down. She summoned a whirlwind of air around her to slow her descent as she landed beside her burning orb.

Just as her feet touched the ground, Korra suddenly felt every muscle in her body seize. The fire orb dissipated, leaving her paralyzed in the dark. She growled, trying and failing to resist whatever was holding her in place, pain wracking her body as her limbs were pulled against their will. "What?!" She was barely able to get the word out through her gritted teeth.

Her body was lifted several inches, feet hovering above the ground, and she was drawn forward through the clearing towards the path of debris in the forest. Blinking rapidly, her eyes readjusted to the dark around her, shifting back and forth in terror as she tried to find the source of this awful power. She recognized what this was, though she wasn't sure how it was possible.

Once brought forward, Korra was forced down onto her knees, her back arching, arms twisting and locking into place behind her. She yelled in frustration, reflexes starting to kick in, instinctively reaching into herself for the Avatar State. She closed her eyes and resisted the urge, wanting to see exactly what—or in this case, who—she was up against before going for her last resort.

As she reopened her eyes, out from the shadows stepped someone who looked human, yet wholly alien. Their hands were stretched out in front of them, holding Korra down with a force she couldn't break. Their clothing was black and dark gray, a cowl covering their head and obscuring their face. The cowl was part of a cloak that draped around their body, ragged and tattered. Though almost every inch of them was covered, their hands remained bare—and as they got closer, Korra realized that they were covered in rope-like scar tissue, the skin red with burn marks.

"Who– are– you?!" Korra forced the question from her teeth, even as her face was locked tightly in place. The person holding her down didn't respond, instead circling her, sizing her up. Though she couldn't move, Korra could tell she still had them nervous, the person's fingers trembling. She let out a wheeze of a laugh, forcing the corner of her mouth into a grin. "You're afraid of me?" she spat. "Bloodbender?"

Korra's chest slammed forward into the ground, her face pressed into the dirt and leaves, arms twisting harder behind her. She let out a short cry of pain, but didn't let up on her words. "Do you know– who you're messing with?!"

The stranger let out a soft chuckle in response. "Oh, I know exactly who you are, Avatar."

Korra's eyes grew wide at the familiarity of the voice. There was no way in a million years she could ever forget the sound of it, not after she had heard it so often bellowing over crowds, churning threats over the radio, rendering her at the mercy of his followers.

"Amon?"

Though he brought his hands up to tug at his cowl, Korra's body remained rigidly in place. The psychic bloodbender was still able to keep her pinned down even without the use of his fingers. He pulled the hood back just slightly, revealing a mask underneath. It wasn't the same as his old one; this one had no markings on it, a plain white coat of paint on the ceramic. The mouth didn't curve into the slight grin it had before either, now just a straight line making it look expressionless. The mask’s eyes, however, were the ones she recognized: slanted, catlike, letting that sliver of his pupils shine through menacingly.

"How are you– what are you– doing here?" Korra grunted, eyes following him as he circled back around to stand in front of her.

"I could ask you the same question, Avatar." Amon squatted down in front of her, tilting his head as he looked at her. "Do you have any idea where you are?"

Korra didn't respond, just gritting her teeth and watching Amon carefully. She was nervous, all of those awful memories of what he'd done to her so many years ago flooding back all at once. But she was stronger now, too. Far stronger. If he tried to hurt her, he wouldn't stand a chance.

Amon seemed to notice that all she was thinking about was fighting, and he waved one hand dismissively. "I shouldn't be the one you're worried about. I'm the least dangerous thing in this forest."

Korra furrowed her brows. "What– do you mean?"

He leaned forward slowly, peering at her face, judging her expression. He looked confused. "... You really don't know?"

His concentration was suddenly broken by the sound of skittering legs within the treetops above. He stood up and looked over his shoulder for the source—breaking his hold on her just enough to give her movement to her neck.

Korra sucked in a deep breath, chest expanding as her lungs filled with air, before blowing out a blast of wind strong enough to knock Amon off his feet and send him flying ten feet backwards into a tree. Control returned to her body the instant his back hit the tree trunk, and she was up off the ground and running within seconds.

"Wait!!"

She could hear him shouting behind her as she ran, but she ignored him, running as fast as her legs would carry her to get away from him. As the vines grew thicker all around her, Korra began sending blasts of fire forward to burn them away, forcing a path deeper into the forest. His shouts quickly faded, but the skittering sound only grew louder.

The noise of far too many legs tapping against wood and winding their way through the branches above her set her on edge. No matter how fast she moved, blasting her way through the brush, even sending puffs of flame towards the creature, it gained on her. A deep cackle of laughter ripped through the trees as the creature bore down on her.

Korra caught a glimpse of a dark carapace peeking through the branches before the creature dived down in front of her suddenly, its body blocking her path. Korra's feet skidded as she stopped herself, falling down and scrambling backwards. In a panic, she sent up a flame from her palm to light the darkness around her. The centipede-like body surrounded her, coiling in close like a snake's as that sinister laugh echoed through the woods once more.

"Avatar. It's been so many years," the creature cooed at her. Korra couldn't tell the source of it, though she looked frantically for the monster's face. "Oh, no, don't look at me so soon! I want you to know who I am before I take you. It is so much more satisfying that way." The body coiled tighter, brushing against her back. She shuddered in horror and moved away from it.

"Who are you, spirit? What do you want from me?"

"Oh my, do you truly not remember me, Avatar? We've met many times before. Oh even your last life, it felt like it was only yesterday... But I suppose even still it was a past life. You've brought me yet another new face."

Last life...? Korra swallowed, racking her brain for an answer to what the spirit was talking about. Though she'd lost her connection to Aang years ago, she'd studied his adventures closely. Yet Aang's adventures to the Spirit World weren't so clear, given he had only ever gone alone and he had to relay those trips to his friends. What were the stories?

There was Hei Bai, who'd spirited away villagers in the Earth Kingdom. There was his visions with Avatar Roku, exploring Roku's past and receiving warnings of the future. There was his search for the Ocean and Moon Spirits, Tui and La…

'New face,' it had said…

Korra almost whispered her response as her eyes grew wide. "You're Koh... Koh the Face Stealer."

"Well done, Avatar!" Koh laughed and twisted around her excitedly. "You escaped me the last time we met, oh, but only just. This time, I have you!"

Korra only saw a glimpse of the creature's carapace descend upon her before she felt her body slam down into the ground. Everything went black.

When Korra came to, she noticed with great relief that she could see. She could breathe, she could blink, she could sigh. She lay sprawled upon the forest floor, everything around her still dark. Sitting up and reaching out one hand, Korra felt her fingers brush against a stone wall. Her eyes followed up the wall, watching as it curved over her and stretched towards an unseen ceiling above the trees.

"This is Koh's Temple," a voice spoke up from across her.

Korra snapped her eyes to the person who spoke, gathering fire in her hands, ready to toss it their way.

The fire lit up Amon's strange figure sitting on the ground near her. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Avatar, if I’d wanted you dead, I would have left you at Koh's mercy."

Korra lowered her hands, but didn't put the fire out, breathing heavily with fear still planted in her chest.

Amon tilted his masked face at her. "If you want to start a fire and draw him back this way, be my guest. I, for one, am glad to be rid of him for the time being and would like to keep it that way."

With a growl, she closed her eyes and clenched her fists and the fires went out. "Fine. Have it your way." Opening her eyes again, she let them readjust to the low ambient light that somehow wound its way through the trees despite the cavern above them. Korra sat cross legged, leaning forward with an accusatory expression. "Why did you save me?"

"You're welcome," Amon said sarcastically, lowering his hands and readjusting himself to sit in a more relaxed position. "Does the Avatar always walk into unknown territory alone and looking for trouble?"

"Maybe the Avatar is perfectly capable of taking care of herself in the Spirit World." She pointed to herself with her thumb. "Bridge between the two worlds, remember? I would have been fine without your help!"

"Really? What would you have done, firebent at him blindly after he stole your face?"

"I was about to bring up an earth barrier to protect myself!"

"And then what?"

"I would have calmed myself down, put on an expressionless face, and walked out of here!"

Amon laughed at that, a loud and genuine laugh like that was the funniest thing he'd heard in years. "Oh I would have killed to see you try to keep a calm expression! I'm almost sorry that I rescued you now."

Korra growled, completely unamused by her enemy’s jests. But, to prove her point, she took a deep breath, sat upright, and relaxed the muscles in her face—the same way she did during meditation, only with her eyes open this time. She stared forward at Amon, blinking expressionlessly, and spoke in a steady, even tone. "I don't need your help."

He watched her with slow contemplation, before giving her a slight nod in response. "So. All I've heard about you is true, then. You've really changed since we last met, Avatar."

"And I'm more powerful than you," she answered coolly and evenly.

Amon gave her a curious look. "... Yes, I know. I couldn't take your bending, and even as a bloodbender I know your Avatar State can overpower me. Even now, now that I am no longer forced to keep it secret, I'm not half the bender I was four years ago." He held out one scarred hand to her. "Yet the image you have of me is still one of fear and anger."

Korra didn't change her expression, instead calmly pointing out a simple fact. "You're the one who's afraid, Amon. You pinned me down because you were scared. I could see your hands shaking."

Amon lowered his hand, tilting his head down to look at the ground before him.

The silence stretched out between them awkwardly, the tension so thick in the air Korra swore she could almost taste it. Then, after a while, Amon shuffled a bit, reaching into a knapsack that lay at his side. He pulled out another mask, a white one that was identical to his own, and tossed it to Korra. She caught it in her hands and looked it over, expression changing to one of confusion.

"You're good, but Koh is better. He's been stealing faces for thousands of years. He knows how to tease out emotions, especially from humans—so few humans have come to the Spirit World until recently that he hunts them down more ruthlessly than any other creature. Human faces are his favorite."

Korra looked from the mask back to Amon. "How do you know so much about him?"

Amon gestured to the caverns around them. "This temple has been my home for almost a year now. Koh is... an acquaintance of mine. We talk, keep each other company."

Korra scoffed at him. "You're friends with that monster?"

"Believe me, it isn't an enviable companionship. He's been trying to steal my face since I arrived."

"Hey, I'm not judging. Frankly, you guys deserve each other."

Amon just shook his head, ignoring her comment. "Put the mask on. There's no telling when he'll be back, and I'm afraid he's rather angry with me right now. Any meeting we have won't be a pleasant one."

Reluctantly, Korra pressed the cool ceramic over her face, tying it back behind her head. "This really works?" she asked, adjusting the mask and tightening the knot to hold it in place. It didn't quite fit, clearly made for Amon's face and not her own, but it would do.

Amon nodded. "It's how he plays his game. So long as Koh can't see your expression, he cannot take your face. His fond nickname for me is 'Cheater.'"

Korra looked back at Amon, responding mockingly, "I guess all those years hiding behind a mask have really paid off."

Amon didn't say anything, going silent once again. He wasn't even looking back at her anymore, staring off into space in thought like she didn't even exist. What? Had she offended him?

Korra sighed softly, asking with a more calm and serious tone, "Why are you helping me?"

He didn't move, and Korra wasn't sure if he'd simply not heard her or if he was perhaps just ignoring her now. Just as she was about to get his attention, he interrupted her with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Of all the questions I'm sure you want to ask me, Avatar, that is the one I don't have an answer to."

Korra frowned at him, though even if he were looking at her now he couldn't see it. "You've changed, too," she said quietly. "What... happened to you? What happened to Tarrlok? Everyone assumed you two escaped together, that you went into hiding. Some people even rumored that you were–"

"Tarrlok is dead." Amon's words were sharp, cutting through her own words like a knife. "My brother... he's dead."

Korra was stunned into silence. Wow. Uh. What was she supposed to really say to that? She couldn't even gauge what emotions Amon was feeling right now—his voice was thick with obvious pain, but she wasn't sure what kind. Still, it drew sympathy from within her. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." He fixed his gaze back on her. "Tarrlok tried to kill us both. He killed himself. I got away."

Korra hissed a bit as she drew her breath in. "I... I'm so sorry, Amon." She winced and then asked gently, slowly, "... Noatak?"

Though his expression was mostly hidden, his eyes grew cold. "Amon died the day you exposed me. Noatak died with Tarrlok."

Korra swallowed roughly. "Then... who exactly are you supposed to be?"

The man before her let out a bitter laugh. "A dead man walking," he said quietly. "I'm not anyone anymore. I'm not even sure who I really was to begin with. Amon was my name for far longer than Noatak was. I was a non-bender, a waterbender, a bloodbender – I was the son of a farmer, the son of a crime boss – I was a factory worker, a chi blocker, a revolutionary leader. My masks were always more real to me than what was hidden underneath, but no amount of lying could change the truth of what I was…"

It was Korra's turn to be silent, watching him, gauging him. She’d always known that Amon was twisted, but she had never really tried to understand him. He'd been right about her—she still saw the man she’d defeated four years ago, that old image of him burned into her brain. But she knew better, now, that while she couldn't necessarily forgive or forget her enemies, she couldn't keep carrying them with her either. Korra had suffered a pain beyond anything previously imaginable... and she could tell, Amon had suffered, too—was still suffering, even now.

After a long minute, Korra leaned forward, asking softly, "Why are you here in the Spirit World, in Koh's lair?"

"No," Amon responded almost instantly. "No, it's... it's a long story, and I'm not very keen on sharing it."

Korra clenched her fists slightly. "Please? I want to know."

Amon narrowed his eyes at her, scrutinizing her, trying to judge the sincerity in her voice. Though he couldn't see her expression, Korra's body language remained open, eyes wide with sympathy behind the mask. With a heavy sigh, and a relaxing of all of the tense muscles in his body, he waved one hand in defeat. "Fine. I'll tell you. I suppose I really have nothing more to lose..."

Chapter Text

The sensation of burning was completely overwhelming. Burning skin, burning flesh, salt water stinging the fresh wounds like a thousand horrid needles. It was absolutely unbearable. Even worse was the lack of sensation in places—the lack of any feeling of his back, of his left leg, of almost his entire face.

In a panic, still conscious despite the shock setting in, he curled in on himself as he sank into the water. A blue glow surrounded his body, a bubble of healing water trying to stop the blood flow, to re-stitch the burned flesh, to drive out infection already threatening to set in. Even as the pain ebbed away as the water around him filled with his chi, he could feel himself dying. A figure—a silhouette of something barely recognizable as a man—sank fast through the water beneath him. He watched as the figure reached a hand for him.

He didn't reach back.

The figure slipped away.

A heartbeat passed, and blackness pressed in on his vision as everything went calm, still, and quiet.

Amon sat bolt upright, gasping and choking for air. He cried out as sharp pain spread through his whole body, doubling over and clutching at the bandages wrapped around his chest and his face. It had been three years and still he had nightmares that agitated the burns almost every night. Even after being sent to the North Pole, back to his old home, and receiving generous help from the greatest healers in the Northern Water Tribe, there came a point where there was nothing more they could do. They'd pulled him back from the brink using spirit water. They'd saved him from losing his left leg and his left eye. He was lucky to be in such good condition, lucky even to be alive, they'd said.

He didn't feel so lucky.

Not a moment went by where he didn't curse his brother, resent his brother for what he'd done. Amon had never felt so much rage in his heart for anyone or anything in all his life.

It made the bandages under his eyes grow wet.

Sitting in silence and letting the pain subside, Amon worked on clearing his mind, trying to calm down, trying to forget. The sun was setting over the tree line, orange light setting the treetops ablaze with fiery colors. The Summer Solstice, the longest day of the year, was at last coming to an end. Even with the humid heat that engulfed him, Amon felt himself grow colder, the burning sensation all over his skin being replaced by a dull sense of numbing as he controlled his breathing, his heart rate, his blood flow.

He uncurled himself from his uncomfortable position of clutching at his scars, sitting cross legged instead and pulling his hood back over his head. With a deep breath, Amon folded his hands in his lap and began to meditate. He had been trying so hard to put his crowded mind to rest, to leave his past behind. It was the reason he'd come to this place, to the Forgetful Valley, to begin with. Though so far, he'd forgotten nothing. So far, his past seemed to haunt his mind here worse than it had anywhere else.

After an extended period of time, with only the sound of the wind blowing about him, Amon finally found himself at the closest thing resembling peace that he'd ever been able to get to. It was a long ways away from true peace, but it at least made living bearable.

He opened his eyes, staring out over the water—the perfectly round spirit pool. He could feel anticipation rising in his gut as the whole forest grew dark, the day subsiding to night.

For a long time, nothing happened. The stars became more and more clear in the sky, reflected like a mirror on the glassy surface of the still water. Though the sun was long gone, the summer night remained warm, the humid air trapping the heat and letting it sit on Amon's burnt skin. Bird calls and the sounds of cicadas faded, turning into the gentle thrum of crickets and katydids. As the time passed, Amon could feel the familiar pang of disappointment settling into his gut.

Just as he was about to let himself fall back into slumber, the sound of cracking sticks and rustling brush startled him from nodding off. Amon jerked forward with a start, rising to his feet. He watched as, on the opposite side of the pool, a great wolf appeared from the trees. It leaned down its large head to drink from the pool, lapping at the water’s surface.

The pool itself lit up suddenly, glowing an eerie blue. Amon took a slight step back as the center of the pool bulged upwards, water breaking and cascading off of an enormous figure that rose from the depths. Five large heads surfaced first, followed by limbs that creaked like tree branches, her figure surrounded by fog before turning more solid, more clear. Faces appeared all around her, dancing, swirling, a hundred different expressions surrounding her tree trunk-like body. She didn't even seem to notice Amon as she came solidly into this world, turning towards the wolf, her servant, and stroking the beast's head.

Amon's heart nearly leapt from his throat as he shouted at the top of his lungs. "Great Spirit! Please, this way!"

The spirit gave a gentle hum, seeming to ignore Amon, her back turned to him. The wolf at her side turned away and began to walk back into the woods, its master sliding out from the pool and following behind. Amon shouted again, practically screamed, but when the pair paid him no mind, he clamped his mouth shut.

Gritting his teeth, all of the fury, all of the frustration he'd been bottling up, he let out all at once as he leapt at the water's surface. He bent the water, a bubble reaching up to grab him around the waist and carry him forward like a tidal wave across the width of the pond. This got the spirit's attention, and she looked back at Amon as he bent the water of the pool, building it up in a swirling tower to reach eye level with her.

"Listen to me!" Amon shouted again.

"You dare bend the water of my sacred pool, human?" Her voice reverberated, sounding like five speaking at once. "You dare make demands of me?"

Amon, full of exasperation, could only beg. "Please, Great One, I need your help. I've been searching season after season for you, and I–"

"On the ground, human! You defile these waters with your bending, and I will not hear another word."

Swallowing heavily, Amon complied, letting himself descend slowly on his column of water until he was at the shore again. He knelt down at her feet as she towered over him. "Please. I mean no disrespect, but I've been here a year and a half searching desperately for your aid."

"Many humans have been waiting far longer than you for my aid," she said with a sharp, cruel tone in her voice. "What makes you believe you are any more deserving than they?"

Amon looked up at her, gesturing to the bandages on his face. "I've been hurt... My face is ruined."

"And you would like me to restore it, I'm sure–"

"No." He shook his head. "No, I... I don't want my old face. I want a new one... a new name, a new identity. I want to forget my past. I want to put an end to my old life."

The great spirit regarded him in silence for a moment. She leaned down towards him, one large hand reaching out and hovering above him, feeling the air around him. Her five heads tilted as she withdrew her hand, speaking somberly.

"You do suffer a great pain, greater than many who come to me, this I cannot deny. However, your past is laid bare before my eyes. All those many years, you hid behind masks. You purposefully disfigured the face I'd first given you, hid it away, lied about who you were, what you were. You squandered my gift, and in your hubris, led yourself down a path that became your demise. Now, you seek to run from those consequences."

Amon stared at her wide eyed, stunned. After a moment of letting what she'd said hang in the air, he got to his feet, taking a defiant step forward. "No... no, please, you don't understand. I can't live like this anymore, Great Mother! It's killing me!"

The spirit didn't appear any more sympathetic as she stood back up to her full height. "What is your name, human?"

"My name?" He paused, before responding carefully. "My name is Amon."

"The name your mother gave you, mortal!" she lashed back, voice booming. "I know Amon is the name of your mask!"

Amon hesitated. He didn't answer her, not wanting to say the name aloud. The name she was referring to was simply... not his name any longer. It carried too much burden with it, too much of a past that wasn't him anymore.

She noticed his silence, and let out a sigh of anger. "You remind me of my son. Arrogant, irresponsible... You deny the lives you were born to, you weaponize the gifts I'd given you, the faces I’d crafted for you!"

"Your son?" Amon blinked in surprise. "What son?"

"You mortals would know him as Koh, though that name, like yours, is a mask." The spirit turned away from him. "You have misused your last face. The consequences of your actions are not something to run from, but something to reflect on. I will show you no pity, human. There are others far more deserving than you."

The shock of her denial struck him to his core, causing every muscle in his body to freeze and tense as if being held in place by the very bloodbending he'd used against so many others. As her figure moved further away from him, however, he broke free from his discomposure—confusion and grief giving way to pure rage.

"No!" he shouted, thrusting his arms up and forward, bending the water from the lake behind once more. Along with it, he pulled all of the moisture from the nearby trees and plants, shattering the vegetation into dried husks, until a veritable tsunami was rushing towards the spirit. The water formed tendrils that threatened to wrap and bind the spirit's limbs, and just as the first tendril was about to grab its mark, Amon felt a weight too heavy to bear push him off of his feet and prone onto his back.

He lost control all at once, the unimaginable amount of water splashing down into the ruined section of the forest, stirring mud and splinters all about, the sound of it like a thousand waves crashing upon a thousand rocks. An enormous paw—the paw of the beast that had been leading the spirit—stamped down onto his chest. Teeth bared and growling, the great wolf lashed down to tear out his throat.

"Leave him."

The order couldn't have come a moment later, the beast's maw already half clamped onto his neck. Then, slowly, it released him, pulling its mouth away and lifting its paw to unpin him.

Amon didn't move, fear having paralyzed him as he tried to slow his panicked breathing.

The wolf turned and padded back to its master's side.

"Let this be my gift of mercy to you this season, and leave this valley, forever."

And in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

"That doesn't explain why you're here," Korra pointed out, tearing down a set of vines that blocked their path with her waterbending, stepping over them carefully.

"I warned you it would be a long story," Amon replied as he let her fight her way through the foliage.

They'd begun walking an hour ago—to where exactly, Amon hadn't said. All he'd mentioned was that it would be safer than staying so close to the heart of Koh's temple, someplace where it would be okay to build a fire without drawing his attention.

"Yeah, well, then why did you stop?" She grunted with effort as she pushed and pulled at more of the vines using her waterbending.

"Because watching you struggle has been amusing me."

Korra rolled her eyes, grunting once more as she pushed her arms wide, the vines parting just enough to give them a few more feet to walk. "You know, you could help me with this. It was your idea to come this way in the first place."

"The Avatar needs my help?" A low chuckle passed his lips and Korra could feel her temper rising.

"Well, this would be much easier if I could burn the vines away, but since you say that might attract unwanted attention..." She took a deep breath and pushed forward, with all her might, to part the foliage once more.

Her efforts gained her all of ten feet.

Korra's shoulders slumped as she let out an exasperated groan.

"Here," he chastised. "You're being too gentle."

Amon placed a hand upon her arm to move past her—that moment of contact making her tense with unease. The texture of his damaged hand was unsettling, as was the lack of force or violence behind it. Taking several steps ahead, he reached both hands out to his sides, before pulling them across his body in a sudden, ripping motion.

The wood and vines and leaves all violently exploded as the moisture was torn from their green prisons, splinters showering the pair. With the water he'd ripped from the plants all about, he pushed forward, the amorphous bubble turning sharp as a blade as he sliced through the brush with all the ease of a knife carving through butter.

A moment of clarity struck Korra.

"That section of the forest I'd come across that had been sucked dry of its water... that was you, wasn't it?"

Amon continued to slice forward, leading them further along. "In the densest parts of these woods, it's the only place to find water. And I find these trees and vines grow back so quickly, I may as well have done no harm to begin with."

Korra thought back to the spirit vines that had grown all about Republic City, the way they grew at a pace too fast to hope to keep up with. She could only imagine the more potent nature of the vines within the Spirit World itself.

"And the vines don't rebel...?" she asked cautiously.

"Not typically, no."

Korra furrowed a brow. "Not typically...?"

All of a sudden a vine wrapped itself around her leg and tugged her down, pulling her to the ground. "Aah!" She scrambled backwards, raising her fists, ready to fight. But then the vine let go, swaying playfully back and forth.

Amon laughed, and dropped his gesture, the vine dropping with it.

"That wasn't very funny," she growled, shooting a glare back at Amon. Not that he could see it behind her mask.

"I beg to differ, Avatar." He chuckled as he made one more clean slice, cutting through a curtain of hanging leaves. He let the water splash to the ground, soaking back into the earth. "We're here."

The first thing that Korra noticed was a beam of golden sunlight peeking through the parted leaves. Amon ducked his head under a few branches to step into what appeared to be a clearing, and Korra followed close behind. She wasn't sure what she'd expected to see, but it certainly wasn't this.

A small camp... no, it seemed too permanent to be called a camp. There was a structure built of mud and wood and grass and vines—primitive but clearly sturdy. It almost seemed to be sunk into the ground, which was most impressive considering Amon was no earthbender. The roof was made of lengthy tree trunks cut in half and slanted downwards on either side, and it was clear the structure had been there for some time as moss had begun to grow over the wooden slats. There was even a chimney made of stone rising from its backside, a newer addition if the lack of green on its bricks was any indication.

Near the small house was a fire pit with a metal pot hanging freely over it. Korra noted that Amon must have brought the pot with him from the human world—or else found it somewhere within the temple ruins. Not far from the settlement was a large, clear pond of water, deep and wide and still as stone.

"Where are we?" Korra asked as she approached the edge of the pond, staring through its surface. There were fish swimming among the pond's weeds, and Korra suddenly realized that she could hear animals again, a chorus of insects and gentle bird song echoing about the trees.

"Home. We're still within Koh's forest, though further now from his usual stomping grounds. He rarely comes this way—I'm not sure why. But it gives me some peace from his tiresome company," Amon said as he leaned down by the fire pit, pulling a piece of flint and some stone from one of his hidden pockets.

He began to strike at the rock, trying to coax flames from the sparks that flew from his hands.

Korra watched him for a moment, before shaking her head. She knelt down on the other side of the fire pit and snapped her fingers. The sparks from Amon's flint burst into flames and set the kindling upon the wood ablaze. Amon just looked up at her—expression unclear behind the mask—and pocketed the stone and flint once more.

"You're welcome," she said with a shrug.

Amon didn’t reply, and simply settled back into a seated position, one knee bent with his arm resting over it. In this light the scar tissue on his hands was more prominent; she could only imagine what state the rest of his body was in. "For all I've told you, you have yet to explain why it is that you're here, Avatar," he said, tilting his head towards her curiously.

"You've hardly told me anything!" Korra shot back. But she could tell from Amon's unwavering gaze that he wasn't going to budge further on his story just yet. With a sigh she rolled her shoulders, offering him the briefest of explanations. "I've been having dreams lately. They've been hazy, and vague, and frankly not something I'm sure I can trust you with knowing about. But the point is, I came to the Spirit World seeking answers, and something led me here. Practically pulled me here."

"And did you find your answers?"

"No." Korra shook her head. "I found you."

Amon was quiet at first, simply turning his gaze to the growing fire. Then, he shrugged in return. "Sorry to disappoint."

Korra snickered at that, waving one hand dismissively. "It surprised me, finding you here. I can't say that I'm glad to see you–"

"The feeling is mutual, Avatar."

"–but," she continued impatiently, "I'm relieved. I'm glad that you're alive…"

Amon didn't say anything to that. Not for a long time. He continued to watch the fire dance and play about instead, letting the silence grow between them. In that drawn out moment he was entirely unreadable, and not just because of the mask.

Finally, he responded. "Well," he mumbled, "that makes one of us." And then he got to his feet.

Korra frowned, watching as he turned away and walked towards the cottage door.

"I'll make us some food. Add some more wood to the fire."

And he slammed the door shut behind him.

Some time passed as she sat by the fire awkwardly, wondering when he was going to calm down and come back out. Korra wasn't sure exactly what she'd said that had set him off.

Well, that wasn't entirely true. She knew exactly what she'd said that had angered him, she simply couldn't understand why he would react so poorly to it. Something told her that it was more than the self-loathing he seemed to be so intent on beating himself with. Maybe if he'd say something instead of holing himself up in his little house, doing spirits knows what…

Whatever. She'd give him his space, and do as he asked.

It took her some time to gather the fallen lumber, trying not to stray too far from the clearing with the fear of getting turned around and lost once more in the labyrinthine forest. How Amon could tell where he'd been going before was a mystery to her.

Stepping back into the clearing, she dropped the wood near the edge of the fire pit. Even with all of the available wood laying about, she wasn't all that satisfied with her haul, but it would have to do. Amon, for his part, had finally left his little hovel, sitting by the open door on an overturned log and sharpening a knife with a rock in his hand.

He didn't seem to react to her return, remaining silent and focused.

Korra pouted beneath the porcelain face she still wore, eyes narrowed at him in annoyance. Fine. If he wasn't going to acknowledge her presence, she would return the favor.

She leaned down by the firewood she'd gathered, holding her hands over the logs. They were mostly damp, and not suitable to feed a cooking fire. Not yet, anyway.

Slowly, much more carefully than when Amon had done it, she pulled at the water soaked into the wood and the pulp within, directing it through the capillaries. It wouldn't do to have a big pile of splinters, after all—she'd rather the logs stay in tact. It didn't take her long to find the exit pores, and bit by bit droplets came up out of the wood, floating in front of her face like frozen raindrops in the air.

Korra flicked her hands to the sides, the water splashing away as she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding in.

"I got your firewood," she called to Amon, standing once more and nudging the pile of logs with her foot.

Still there was no response from him, just the gentle, even, repetitive sound of metal scraping along stone.

Korra rolled her eyes, picking up a log and tossing it onto the embers, letting the fire lick the dry wood hungrily.

Speaking of hungry…

"You said there'd be food," she called again, throwing another log onto the fire.

Wordlessly, he pointed to the pot over the fire. Korra noticed its lid was on, and she lifted it carefully. What was inside didn't smell unappetizing, but it obviously wasn't cooked yet, the broth hardly simmering, let alone boiling.

"...You just started this? How long is this going to take?"

"It would have been started sooner, if you'd brought the wood faster," he muttered, pausing in his whetting for a brief moment.

At last, something!

"Yeah, well, I wasn't the one holed up and brooding in my tiny shack for half an hour," she poked back, setting the lid back on the pot.

And again, no words. Just the shink sound of the knife once more.

Korra threw up her arms in surrender, letting out a hefty sigh as she plopped back down to the ground. "Would it make you feel any better if I'd said I didn't want you alive?"

Shink.

"Do you want me to actively wish for your demise? Because I'm sorry, but I'm not that sort of person. I didn't want you, or your followers, or anyone I've ever faced off against to get hurt!"

Shink, shink.

"Why are you so intent on making me into your enemy? I'm sitting right here, telling you I'm willing to let the past go! Why can't you accept that?"

The sound of the knife stopped abruptly as Amon fixed his gaze upon her, eyes boring into her despite their being near hidden behind his mask. Somehow, she could see them, even from this distance—and though she swallowed, Korra would only glare back.

"Let me make one thing clear, Avatar," he growled lowly, voice taking on that threatening edge she knew all too well from their earlier days together. "So long as I bear the weight of these memories, ever shall we be enemies. Tarrlok may have taken my face and body, but you've taken everything else from me—my ambitions, my ideals, my life's work." He clenched his fists, one hand wrapped around the handle of his knife with a grip so hard his scarred knuckles began to turn white. "I've seen what the world has faced in my time since I've lost it all, and at every turn it's been more and more destruction wrought by benders strengthened by your weakness, by your misguided judgment."

"Hey!" she shouted, leaning forward. The fire leapt with her yell. "I am not responsible for the wrongdoings of every overzealous, idealistic bender in the world, and that includes you!"

"You're mistaken. You share my power within you, the power to take bending away from anyone who would seek to do harm." Korra could feel her blood run cold at the thought of it. "But you lack the conviction to do so, to take away the one weapon that has threatened humanity thousands of times over thousands of lifetimes! And still the oppressed non-benders remain at the mercy of the benders who seek to rule their lives. I sought to even the playing field, while you... you seek to maintain the status quo, so you and you alone can play god with your power over those weaker–"

"The woman I love is a non-bender!!" Korra shouted again, pounding her fist against the ground. The earth cracked beneath her hand. "Don't you dare assume how I feel about non-benders, Amon!"

Everything went silent once more. Even the birds stopped singing, startled by the shouting.

Amon looked away, staring at the knife in his hand, before tossing it aside in disgust. "Why are you here?" he asked her again, his voice going quiet, having lost the venom it once held.

Korra took a deep breath, trying to calm her own nerves, before she held her hands up in a way that she hoped conveyed a truce.

"I'm here to help."

He scoffed, but she continued on with her sincerity, hoping to keep his rage at bay.

"So please... tell me why you're here. Tell me... what is it you hope to find?"

Amon seemed to consider her words, mulling them over as he gripped at his knees with frustration.

And then, at last, he acquiesced.

"Let me tell you a fairytale."

Chapter Text

'Mortal uniqueness came into being at the very beginning of time. Before this, the concepts of name and identity were the exclusive realm of the spirits who inhabited the world, whilst mortalkind had no concept of the many – only the one.

For spirits, one such being made it Her exclusive domain to catalog each identity, to become the collector of all individuality. She became the knower of each and every name, of each and every face, of every spirit that had ever existed. It was Her sacred duty to keep such differences in tact, for no two spirits could ever be the same. Such distinction was important when settling disputes of who was whom, of bringing to light imposters and deceivers. She was heralded as an arbiter, the ultimate authority who would at once mete out both judgment and justice upon those who would seek to claim a false identity.

As the sole keeper of identity, however, it is said that as the world swelled with spirits, the burden became too great to bear alone. And so, for the first time, the spirit crafted a new being, weaving together an individual with a name and face unlike any other that had ever existed – Her first and most perfect work. The child, like His mother before Him, was skilled in the knowing of faces, and possessed the ability to perfectly recreate the face of any being that would show to Him but a moment of their true nature.

Both spirits were shown great reverie, and the philosophy of individuality the two were sworn to uphold would eventually spread so far and wide as to reach the mortal realm, when mortalkind would at last learn of this new concept of self. Soon there came humans who sought out the great spirits to grant them individuality, to formalize their distinctiveness from the flock of which they were once a part of.

The child was disinclined to grant such wishes, believing mortals were unworthy of such a gift. But the mother was a merciful being, and so, despite Her son's objections, She began to craft new names and faces for the humans who sought Her blessings, becoming to them the Mother of Faces.

Jealousy took hold of the heart of the child, as He perceived His mother's love and pity for humans to be greater than Her love for Him or Her fellow spirits. The rift created between the two spirits by Her gifts grew to be insurmountable, and the child would turn against His mother, forsaking His role as keeper of identity and becoming a great enemy to–'

Amon held the unfurled scroll against the dim green lights of the library, trying to make out even one more word of the torn parchment. But it was no use. The age of the document was more than apparent, and time had taken its toll. As it was, his meddling had already made the writing more illegible, and he was thankful he'd thought to transcribe the words before they were entirely lost to obscurity.

This hadn't given him everything he'd hoped for, but it was useful. The more he knew of his quarry before throwing himself to his mercy, the better, and this was the closest he'd managed to get to the heart of the recluse spirit in all his preparations.

Of course he'd risked life and limb to come by this information.

History, records, tales of encounters—those he'd been able to come across with only a minor amount of difficulty. But legends as old as time itself were nigh impossible to come by without visiting a place as old as time itself. Pulling out a small pocket watch, he judged it'd been some few hours since he'd managed to infiltrate the depths of the Spirit Library. He was running out of time.

In order to even guarantee entrance, Amon first had to track down the help of the keepers of the library, the amicable little fox spirits known as Knowledge Seekers. By every account he’d read, the Knowledge Seekers seemed willing to help any human who showed them an act of kindness, even against their master's wishes. This had proven true when only but a simple bribe—of dried meats and shiny new trinkets from the human world—was all it had taken to turn a number of them to his side.

One had smuggled him in with its newfound collection, a trunk containing history tomes from the far reaches of the Earth Kingdom. Though the ride had been unpleasantly bumpy and had left every one of his limbs stiff and aching, it had beat the alternative of attempting to face the library’s master, Wan Shi Tong, head on. Amon had been thoroughly surprised by the unnatural strength of the relatively small creature as it carried him up in through the library's tower window via the trunk strapped to its back.

The two others had agreed to keep an eye on the great owl spirit, distracting Wan Shi Tong in any way they could manage while Amon snuck into the depths of the library. While the fox spirits said no words, it was apparent in their rushing him that they could not keep such a charade going for very long.

The Seeker that had smuggled him inside had also agreed to guide him, helping him to find any and all information it could on Koh the Face Stealer. A great deal of what was new and helpful were illustrations depicting the creature, a list of known faces the beast had stolen, and a map of his territory with directions on how to navigate it.

That last scroll had been carefully tucked away into his bag while the Seeker was away fetching a new tome.

As Amon finished scribbling the last few words of the ruined scroll into his notebook, the Seeker returned, yipping at him with sudden urgency and agitation, tugging on his pants leg with its teeth.

Oh no, he’d had even less time than he’d thought—in fact, it seemed he’d just run out.

Tossing his notebook back into his knapsack, Amon shouldered the pack and followed the fox spirit’s urgent direction, the creature picking up the pace to lead him back towards the library’s main central hub. It was unfortunate that there was only one way in and one way out—and while it had been relatively simple to get inside of the library, nothing was ever supposed to leave this place once it was there.

Not eager to become a permanent part of the library’s collection, Amon ran as fast as he could, only just barely keeping up his pace with the nimble fox spirit as it twisted and turned its way around the bookshelves, leading them both up, and up, and up.

He panted heavily, trying to catch his breath as they came to a stop below the library’s sole remaining entrance. The hole in the ceiling let in a beam of light from the outside, and Amon stood stunned, staring up at it with a frown beneath his mask. He’d thought he’d have more time to come up with an escape plan than this, but in all his eagerness to get inside in the first place, in all his rushing to grab the information he’d sought, he’d failed to give himself ample opportunity to think of a swift egress. He hadn’t known what the library would look like from the inside, and so didn’t realize that the ceiling would be domed, granting him no footholds, no places to climb back out.

The helpful Knowledge Seeker circled around Amon’s feet in distress, realizing the human’s grave error and trying to think of some way to help.

With a growl of frustration, Amon peered upwards again and stretched his arms towards the hole, trying to feel for something, anything, that might have held water within it. As he made frantic pulling motions with his hands, his psychic reach latched onto something, and he grabbed for it desperately, tugging it downwards towards himself.

A small squawking sparrowkeet came tumbling at him through the ceiling, irate with Amon’s grabbing of it against its will as it flapped madly against his bloodbending. He let go of the wild animal, and it flew about the great hall of the Spirit Library, screeching in both anger and terror at what had been done to it, making a horrible ruckus.

Oh this was bad. This was really, really bad.

Looking back down at the fox spirit by his side, the Seeker almost seemed to wince, before pulling on Amon’s pants leg once more, trying to lead him back the way they’d come.

Better to attempt to hide, it seemed, than to stay here like a sitting turtleduck. They’d regroup and try this again when he had an actual escape plan in mind.

But just as Amon spun on his heel and made to run once more, the sound of great flapping wings suddenly echoed down the stone corridors, carrying with it a mighty gust of wind. Amon took off at a sprint all the same, hoping against all hope to evade the spirit’s gaze, to find some corner he could squeeze himself into, like a rat caught in a maze.

It was no use.

Letting out a terrible shriek that pierced his ears, the Spirit Library’s master flew over Amon’s head, and landed in front of him with a weighty slam. All of the feathers upon the gigantic owl spirit’s body were ruffled, his neck elongated and razor sharp beak stretching forward towards the masked man. He spread his massive wings to either side, blocking Amon’s path.

“What mortal dares to enter my library, dares to steal my knowledge right out from under my nose?!” Wan Shi Tong’s voice boomed, reverberating throughout the library’s central hall, the entire building shaking with his rage. “I have had enough of humans desecrating this place, and I have thought I’ve made myself very clear that I want nothing more to do with them, ever, ever again!!”

Amon could only hold up his hands in surrender, eyes darting between the great spirit and the library’s high exit, sweat beading on his face beneath the ceramic of his mask. “Master Wan Shi Tong,” he started, his voice low and gentle. “I was just about to leave. I did not mean to disturb you, and I will be out of your feathers, if I could only–“

“Silence!”

Amon shut his mouth, taking a step backwards as he cowered away from the wrathful spirit.

“What knowledge have you stolen from me, human?! Tell me, what is it that you sought to learn that could possibly have been worth turning my own servants against me, that could have been worth provoking my ire?!” As Wan Shi Tong shouted, the fox spirit that had helped Amon sneak inside likewise cowered behind his legs, ears pinned backwards as it yipped with a look of guilt on its face.

Amon took a deep breath. “Ancient Earth Kingdom recipes,” he said slowly. “As you must know, when the Earth Kingdom fell into chaos, much of its literature was lost in the anarchy. I am a world renowned chef, and–”

“Liar!” The owl spirit snapped his beak at Amon, causing him to stumble and fall to the ground. “I give you one last chance, tell me what it is that you were after, before I tear you apart for your transgressions!”

No choice, then, if the spirit could see through him so easily.

Amon gestured carefully to his own masked face, and said with all seriousness this time, “I was searching for information about Koh.”

“Koh?” The owl’s feathers seemed to flatten slightly at that, his eyes narrowing with both great suspicion and even greater surprise. “How curious. Only one human has ever before sought any information from me pertaining to Koh the Face Stealer, and that was nearly five hundred years past.”

It was Amon’s turn to look surprised. “Who?”

Wan Shi Tong’s voice rumbled with great displeasure. “Avatar Kuruk.”

Amon swallowed heavily. That story he knew, and perhaps he should have guessed that would have been Wan Shi Tong’s answer. Apart from Avatar Aang’s more relatively recent encounters with the face stealing monster, Avatar Kuruk’s attempted revenge against the beast was likely the most famous known tale about Koh. It made sense that the man would have done just the same as he, gathering all of the information he could about that terrible creature before he dared to face him.

“Tell me, do you also seek vengeance? Has he, too, stolen the face of someone you love?” the librarian spirit asked, tilting his head nearly upside-down as he did.

“No,” Amon replied. “I have no desire to fight Koh—he hasn’t taken anything from me.”

The spirit then twisted his head the other way, now twice as curious, caught off guard by Amon’s answer. “Why, then, do you seek this knowledge? For what purpose was this great risk taken?”

“I… I need his help.”

The owl spirit blinked, his double set of eyelids sliding across his massive black pupils. And then he threw back his head, letting out a great and bellowing laugh. “Hahaha! Help, from Koh the Face Stealer! You are more of a fool than I’d first taken you for! Koh is a selfish being, he does not help anyone, not even other spirits—and he despises humans even more than I. You would be better served seeking the help of his mother, and leaving that terrible monster to wallow away in his domain.”

“You don’t understand,” Amon said, voice quivering. “I have already asked his mother for aid, and she refused me. She has banished me from her valley.”

“Truly?” Wan Shi Tong clicked his beak thoughtfully, leaning his head down to come to eye level with Amon, staring at him with two dark scrutinizing eyes. The spirit’s body seemed to have finally relaxed, no longer full of killing intent. His great interest in Amon, in his peculiar motivations and predicament, had saved him. “The Mother of Faces is the most merciful being among the great spirits… if she would refuse you, you must have done something truly terrible to anger her so. Still, I imagine begging her for forgiveness would be more fruitful than attempting to get what you want from Koh of all spirits.”

“Perhaps,” Amon conceded. “But… were I to learn about her son, meet with him, learn about her from him, I may have a better chance of convincing her the next time we meet. She had told me Koh and I were alike; if she still holds some love for her child, maybe I could find a way to gain her sympathy if I discover what drove them apart.”

Wan Shi Tong only shook his head at Amon, before withdrawing, taking a step back as he quit his looming. “That mask you wear… it is to stave off Koh, is it not? Why wear it here?”

Amon didn’t respond to his question. Instead he simply got to his feet, rubbing his scarred hand across the mask’s smooth surface.

Wan Shi Tong noticed the scars. “Ah. I understand now.” And then he hummed. “Never before has a human come here with the intention to learn knowledge for the sake of befriending a spirit. It is ironic that the humans who have so often taken advantage of this library have been more monstrous than you, a monster seeking to understand another monster. I will allow the taking of this knowledge—Koh will likely kill you anyway, saving me the trouble.”

Amon jerked his head upwards, eyes growing wide with surprise as he was granted this leniency by the great librarian spirit. “You will let me go?”

“On one condition.” Wan Shi Tong held his wing forward, expectantly. “The usual condition. You may not leave this place with my knowledge without first gifting me knowledge in exchange, and I will be judging this knowledge harshly. The quality of your knowledge must be greater than the knowledge you intend to part with—and no, I do not care to learn about how radios work! You did remember to bring a donation, did you not?”

Amon’s eye twitched. He had planned for this… yet he’d been hoping he wouldn’t have to give up what he’d brought with him. In fact, he’d intended to burn it, had he made it out unseen.

But of course there was only one unique piece of knowledge that Amon knew alone, knowledge that had nearly died with him and Tarrlok both.

Slowly, he shifted his knapsack off of his shoulder and opened it up, careful not to let his stolen map show. His fingers wrapped around another scroll instead, and he unfurled it for Wan Shi Tong to see. The scroll was so long and so intricate that it nearly hit the floor as he displayed it.

Upon the page were detailed illustrations from top to bottom; the first several images showed something akin to waterbending moves, depicting hand placement and body position in tugging and pulling motions, along with the phases of the moon. Below that were anatomy drawings, extremely precise and accurate, showing the fully mapped out human vascular system as it intersected with chakra points upon the body. And below even that, an outline of a human face, and a specific chakra point marked precisely in the center of the forehead.

All of it was annotated with neat and tidy handwriting, extraordinarily thorough in every aspect.

“This is astounding,” the owl spirit murmured, taking the scroll in his wing. “I’ve never seen anything like this—what is this, did you write this yourself?”

“Yes, Great Spirit. It is the power with which I nearly defeated the Avatar. It is all that I have ever learned about bloodbending.”

“Bloodbending!” The owl held the scroll closer to himself, as if Amon had given him the most precious object he’d ever beheld. “I have heard of this most terrible power, a forbidden art among waterbenders to take control of a mortal’s body, to bend it to their will. So taboo is it this art that I have never once had any knowledge of its techniques within my collection, and have only heard rumor of its existence, tales of its practice. You say you nearly defeated the Avatar with this power?”

“Yes,” Amon replied evenly.

Wan Shi Tong’s beak almost curved into something resembling a smile. “Tell me… who are you, human?”

He bowed forward to the owl spirit at the waist.

“I am called Amon, and I am the greatest bloodbender to have ever lived."

Korra nearly spat out the stew she’d been eating, choking as Amon finished his recounting. “You gave him what?! Are you insane?!”

“Recall the part where I told you I did not want to give it to him. As I’d said, I was going to burn the scroll, and–“

“But you didn’t! Do you have any idea how dangerous that scroll is?! What if it falls into the wrong hands, Amon?!” Korra shouted angrily, despairing at the thought of such a terrible power being weaponized against anyone ever again.

“I did what I had to survive. You’re overreacting.”

“Overreacting?!” Korra snarled at him, placing one hand on her hip as she held her bowl of stew in the other, leaning at him menacingly from where she sat across the fire. “I am not overreacting! It’s my job to keep the peace and maintain balance, and there’s no telling what sort of chaos something like that could cause!”

“It is now in the one place where it is the least likely to ever be found by anyone,” he pointed out. “No one else even knows of its existence except you. If you are so intent upon its destruction, then please, by all means, find your way into the Spirit Library and burn it yourself. I am sure Wan Shi Tong will be thrilled to see it destroyed,” Amon shot back sarcastically, not looking Korra’s way.

Korra could only growl with frustration, clearly not getting through to the man just how awful it was, the thing that he’d done. “You know, I’m beginning to think the Mother of Faces hit the nail on the head with you. You are irresponsible, and arrogant. For an anti-bender, you seem to be a big fan of the most dangerous kind of bending in the world–”

“I despise bloodbending,” Amon cut her off.

Korra gave him a humorless little laugh. “Ha, you could have fooled me! All this talk of equality and benders abusing their power over non-benders—and yet I’ve never met anyone who has power tripped over their bending more than you, Amon! Admit it, you’re proud to be a bloodbender! You like being the one in control!”

“Are you finished?” He kept his gaze set out to the distance, letting all of Korra’s rage slide off of him, not reacting.

Korra deflated, letting out one more angry huff before she relented, clamping her mouth shut.

Amon finally looked back at her, narrowing his eyes at her as he spoke. “Perhaps you’re right about me. Perhaps there is some part of me that takes sick pleasure in using my power, in taking total control over others. Perhaps I have always been some power hungry monster, no better than my father or my brother, and I only ever used the anti-bending movement as a means to make myself into a false messiah. I’m a charlatan, after all, and the Equalists were built like a house of cards.” And then he gestured to her, with a slight sigh. “But I am worried about the scroll. If I hadn’t been, I wouldn’t have revealed its existence to the one person who may be able to do something about it—who would do the right thing, and destroy it. The world doesn’t need any more bloodbenders, Avatar, on that we agree.”

Oh. Now she realized what he'd been doing. He was trying to be obtuse about asking for her help in ensuring the scroll was destroyed, too prideful to ask her outright.

Korra's pouting lips turned into something more like a frown, before finally she let out a quiet sigh. “… Alright. You’ve made your point.”

And they fell into yet another uncomfortable silence, Amon once more turning his gaze away while Korra only stared into her mostly empty bowl.

She couldn’t tell if Amon truly believed those things about himself, about being a monster who enjoyed being in control—but she knew, with something approaching absolute certainty, that he hadn’t co-opted anti-bending sentiments solely as a means of amassing power. Tarrlok had said as much; he’d determined that Amon was sincere in his beliefs about bending, in the anti-bending movement he’d led, even if he’d used bending as a means to an end.

It was strange. She could tell Amon valued his own bending, took great pride in it, and Korra couldn’t deny that he was extraordinarily skilled. And yet he really, genuinely hated all benders—and, apparently, bloodbending itself.

The contradiction had never made sense to her.

“I’m sorry,” Korra said after a while, breaking the long stretch of silence. “I didn’t mean to assume that you didn’t care about what happened to that scroll. I am trying to understand you, I really am. But you need to be more direct with me if you don't want me to keep guessing at how you feel.”

“Why?” he asked, rolling his eyes at her. “There is no point. I am the villain and you are the hero of our story. The Equalists are gone, and I’m nothing but a husk, so we may as well leave it at that. Assume whatever you'd like about me.”

"It isn't that simple," Korra insisted. But Amon would say no more on the matter, and she could only sigh again, setting her bowl to the side. Then, after a pause – "... You haven't eaten yet. Aren't you hungry?"

"I will eat later."

"Why later?"

He tilted his head at her, like that was a stupid question she'd just asked him. Korra tilted her head back, before glancing down at the mask he'd lent to her, sitting on the ground by her side. And then back to him once more.

"You said we were mostly safe from Koh here, and that I could take off the mask.”

He only squinted. No, that wasn’t it.

"What?" She furrowed a brow at him. "You know I don't care what you look like under there, right? You don't have to hide your face from me."

"You'll stare. Everyone does."

Korra pursed her lips. "I won't stare. Besides, I've already seen what your face looked like when it was 'burned.'"

"It's worse than that. Much worse."

Korra only shrugged at him. "Do you really care what I think about how you look, anyway?"

"I'm not taking the mask off just to satisfy your curiosity, Avatar," Amon said curtly, his hands clenching into fists. "Stop treating me like an oddity to be studied, it's beginning to irritate me."

"Wha– I'm not–!"

Amon tilted his head forward so she could see the glare he was giving her, his eyes narrowed dangerously. Korra sucked in a breath and didn't finish her protest.

"I'm sorry... I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," she said, holding up her hands in a calming gesture. "Obviously you can keep the mask on. I just didn't want you to go hungry because of me."

"I'll be fine."

Amon then got to his feet, dusting off his trousers as he did, clearly tiring of her company. "It's getting late, we should get some rest."

Korra looked up and noticed that the warm daylight that had been so prominent earlier had indeed waned, giving way to evening colors, the light turning almost an eerie dark yellow-orange.

"I will take you to the edge of Koh's territory tomorrow, and you can leave through the spirit gate there," Amon said as he turned to head back into his makeshift little cottage.

"Wait!" Korra jumped to her feet, taking a step forward to stop him.

He paused in his movements, his fingers on the handle of the door.

"Don't you want my help?" she asked gently, holding out her hands towards him, though he wasn't looking her way. "You said you've been here for nearly a year, which means Koh still hasn't given you what you wanted."

"What could you possibly do to help?" Amon snapped sharply, his back still turned to her.

"I'm the bridge between humans and spirits, aren't I?" Korra said with a shrug. "There must be something I can do. What sort of trouble has Koh been giving you?"

"He hasn't been giving me any trouble."

Korra didn't even respond to that, giving only an incredulous snort.

Amon sighed, and looked back over his shoulder at her, his chin tilted downwards. "I don't need your help. Besides, Koh despises you even more than I do. It'll be safer if you leave as soon as possible—I can't guarantee he won't come this way if he somehow discovers I brought you here, even if he usually avoids this place. Nowhere is completely safe from him."

She smirked at that. "Are you worried about me?" she asked teasingly.

"I am serious, Avatar."

"I'm serious too," Korra replied, placing both of her hands on her hips stubbornly. "I'm not going anywhere. Not until I find my answers, and not until you find yours. I can take care of myself, so quit worrying about me and get used to having me around."

Amon only groaned at her, pressing one hand to his forehead in exasperation. He stood still as stone for a moment, and Korra waited, wondering if he was trying to think up a new excuse to get rid of her. Then, at last, he dropped his hand from his face and turned back away. "Fine, have it your way. A word of advice, though, Avatar: Sleep with the mask on." And before she could respond, he was through the door of his cottage, slamming it shut behind him.

Korra rubbed the back of her head, glad that she'd technically won the argument, yet still feeling like he'd just pushed her away all the same.

She looked all about the clearing, and then back to the door he'd went through. Well, he had literally just shut her out.

Right, no, it was probably cramped in there anyway. Of course he wouldn't have offered to let her sleep inside, she didn't need to read into it. That was fine. She'd make do.

Not one to take warnings from Amon lightly, Korra snatched the mask back up from where she'd left it on the ground, brushing off the dirt that had collected along its edges. As she held it in her hands, something compelled her to stare down at it, locking her eyes with the empty ones in her grasp, her fingers tracing the expressionless mouth.

As she stared, the familiar sound of whispering voices brushed past her ear as if carried by the wind, her hair blowing with the breeze.

The mask's mouth twisted into a wide and wicked smile and the whispering turned to laughter.

"AAAH!!"

Korra threw the piece of ceramic back down to the ground with a start, her heart racing as her eyes flicked this way and that all around her. She twisted and turned, looking for the source of the laughter, the sound of it echoing all about, dancing through the trees.

But just as quickly as the vision had come, it was gone, and the air was still once more. The mask, too, looked completely ordinary—expressionless, as it had always been.

Korra ran her hands through her hair with distress, breathing heavily as she tried to slow her racing heart.

Something told her this wasn't going to be easy.