Misty Palms Oasis, 1st Spring Trimester

A creak of the wood, nearly inaudible, remained unnoticed in the face of happy hour at noon. After all, the man who had just walked into the bar was old and fat, so he was no threat to the patron’s cycle of yells and brawls and drinks and bets and blood and piss.

Besides, it wasn’t as if they’d stop if the man raised up a fuss. Shu-damnit, they had earned their debauchery! They had served on the front lines! They had served their Kingdom, lost family and friends to the war!

It broke them, and the taste of rum and gin filled the cracks.

And within the minute, they had forgotten of him. Who the hell cared about a random ass man in the desert? He’d either be gone within the week, or they’d get to know him a whole lot better in their own personal purgatory.

Besides, the old man wasn’t as interesting as the rumours Zian was driving, tales of an attack upon a city of Waterbenders far up in the north.

“An’ so wha’ if the ashmakers burned ‘em down!” Xhen-La, an amputee with several missing teeth cut in, interrupting Zian’s tale, “It’s all ‘ey do!”

“But they didn’t, y’hear?” Zian leaned forward, a vindictive smile gracing his smooth lips - for he had only recently reached the age of maturity, yet had already sired a child a hundred kilometres to the west - “They were defeated by the Avatar… ”

“Bah!” cried Shin, shaking her emptied glass agitatedly around her, “How come the bleedin’ cunt defends those savages while leavin’ us to rot? ”

“Oi!” shouted Eiyla, batting away Shin’s errant arm with a lopsided scowl - for her nerves had been burned off a decade prior - “Don’t speak ill of the Avatar, woman, or you’ll bring bad luck to us all!”

“Besides,” laughed Ren, a snarling grin touching his lips, “With the Avatar finally back, we can take the fight to them! See how they like their sons and daughters burned for a change!”

Zian laughed, punching Ren on the arm, “You don’t get it! It already happened! ” Zian leaned forward, a bloodthirsty grin in his teeth, “The Avatar struck back, and a hundred ashmaker ships sunk.”

There was a short silence as everyone reeled back, shocked… and exalted. Shin spoke first, raising her empty glass in a toast, belatedly reminding her to get more whisky, “There isn’t a more fittin’ end for ‘em, drownin’ in water.”

Zian’s mouth twitched at the mention of drowning, before widening his eyes, “And I nearly forgot!” Catching the others’ attention, he leaned forward, a giddy gleam in his eye, “They say that before the attack, the prince of ashmakers was killed in an explosion!”

“HAH!” Ren slammed a hand against the table, laughing uproariously, “The Firelord’s son killed in a blast of fire! ” The apparent humour of the tale prevented words from forming, but only for a moment, “ Serves the entitled prick right. ”

And, across the bar, upon hearing these words, a grizzled hand tightened, and glass shattered. None of those laughing over the demise of the prince and thousands of his people heard this, and none of them knew that they were heartbeats away from having their veins course with lightning, their heart bursting as the cold fire pierced their chest, leaving nothing but ashes-

“-ello? Are you alright?” Iroh blinked at the voice, locking away his sudden, cold fury.

He dimly registered that his hand was in pain, and realised that his glass of water had shattered, piercing his palm in bloody slashes.

A drop of blood had smeared on his lotus tile.

With a carefully manufactured smile, Iroh nodded back to the man across from him, “My apologies, I didn’t quite catch what you were saying.”

The other man - older, but not as much as he - frowned, eyes glancing down as Iroh wiped his palm on his shirt - a small flame, barely larger than a fingernail, cauterised the wound - "I asked if you were alright.”

Iroh huffed a small laugh, naturally sounding as if what the man had said was funny, even if he could feel no humour at the moment, “I do apologise for that, my friend. I was merely thinking .” Before the other man could respond, Iroh inclined his head, “I do believe we were beginning our game?”

The other man pursed his lips, but allowed Iroh to move on from the event, “The guest has the first move.”

Iroh hummed lightly to himself, moving his lotus tile - still smeared with blood; he would have to clean that - to the centre of the board. As expected, Iroh witnessed a gleam of recognition in the other man’s eyes, though there was an undercurrent of… apprehension?

Before Iroh could ponder much more on the man’s reaction, he spoke, reciting the familiar pass phrase, “I see you favour the White Lotus Gambit. Not many still cling to the Ancient Ways.”

Iroh smiled, and for the first time in weeks, it was genuine, “Those who do can always find a friend.”

The other man nodded, eyes flitting between Iroh and the smeared tile on the centre of the board, “Then let us play.”

Iroh nodded a touch absently, placing each tile in their respective place as the two of them confirmed that they were both on the same page in terms of allegiance, and in a place where they could speak without fear.

It was times like this, where Iroh forwent a game in favour of White Lotus business, that he almost missed the time before he became a Grand Lotus. Back when he was a general, a brother, a father , back when Pai Sho had been nothing more than a game of strategy. Back when he played against his captains in friendly competitions while they were on campaign, back when he played against his brother before their estrangement, back when he taught the basics to Lu-Ten, when he was no more than eight years old.

He rarely had such luxury in recent times. He played against many upon the Wani , but only Lieutenant Jee had enough experience to truly contend with him. He had snuck games here and there when at port, and occasionally found a hidden strategist who surprised him.

There was only ever one person who he never had the blessing to play with, to teach . One who had steadfastly refused every attempt to play, first citing the need to train - to please a man who wouldn’t be pleased - then citing the need to find a figure of legend - to beg forgiveness of a man who had no mercy in his heart.

And now… his nephew was gone.

Just like his son.

Iroh snapped back to reality as the board was completed, and the other man leaned back, murmuring, “Welcome, brother. The White Lotus opens wide to those who know her secrets.”

Iroh bowed back. Though he was seated as he did so, years of experience in the Royal Court made such a thing seem dignified, “You honour me with your hospitality.”

The other man watched him with the apprehensive look he had previously, before his eyes softened. He rose out of his seat, collecting his Pai Sho pieces back into his cloak, “If you would please follow me. I believe we can speak in a more-” He paused as one of the patrons - Ren - began pounding a table, choking on drunken laughter, “-private space.”

Iroh nodded, gathering his own tiles, “I will follow your lead.”

The other man didn’t say anything more before walking out of the bar, Iroh trailing him. The two of them walked around the ice fountain, Iroh glancing at it for a long enough moment to notice a sliver of ice melting, trickling down the side as the fountain slowly wasted away, like everything else in the world.

Before long, the two of them stepped into a small, nondescript hut at the edge of the settlement. Though Iroh hadn’t seen his wanted poster this far away from the coast, he appreciated the caution nonetheless. The patrons at the bar had heard of all that he had lost at the North Pole, so who was to say they didn’t also know of his bounty?

Within the hut, there were pots of flowers, wilted and dried, for the folk of the town couldn’t spare water. Though there was a counter and shelves indicative of a shop, Iroh highly doubted that any business was ever actually conducted here.

Well, except for his business.

The other man reached the door at the edge of the hut, sharply knocking once. Seconds passed before a slide at the head of the door was opened, and a pair of muted blue eyes stared out, “Who knocks at the garden gate?”

Iroh stepped forth, remembering the old words - once the beginning of an old Air Nomad parable, now forgotten in the face of their oblivion - “One who has eaten the fruit and tasted its mysteries.”

As he said the words, the slide closed, and he heard several latches on the other side be pulled aside, allowing the florist to open the door, “It is an honour to welcome such a high-ranking member of the Order of the White Lotus,” He bowed to the side, allowing them in, “You must know many secrets.”

“Nothing so grand, I’m afraid,” Iroh replied neutrally, sitting down on a slab of earth, “In fact, I have come here to get up to date,” He leaned back, tugging his beard, “I have been… busy for the past several months.”

“I have heard,” Hummed the florist, nodding towards the other man as he went to get tea. Turning back to the table between them, and the faded Pai-Sho board upon it, he asked, “Fancy a game?”

Iroh hummed, absently tapping a slow finger on his knee, “It has been some time… Are you certain you wish to play?”

Had it been a mere month before, Iroh would have gasped at his own question. Him, not wanting to play Pai Sho? However, while he would always be open to a game, his mind was too agitated to truly excel in it, his soul too fired up with a slow, cold rage to truly enjoy it.

Yet, despite his question, the florist chuckled, retrieving a pouch of tiles, “It is not everyday one gets to meet a Grand Lotus,” As he said the this, the florist’s smile sharpened, his blue eyes regaining a small amount of its lost colour, “Besides, I’ve always wanted to contend against the fabled Dragon of the West .”

Iroh hummed, keeping his eyes blank as his fire flared within him before lowering to a calm, purposeful ember, “...Well, who am I to deny such a request?” Iroh gave a small smile as he pulled out his own pouch, though it wasn’t kind, “But if you truly wish to face off against the dragon, then perhaps we should play for something other than Harmonies.”

“Oh?” The florist asked, his eyebrows shooting up in mild surprise, “But is it not the Harmonies that a Grand Lotus such as yourself specialises in?”

Iroh’s smile showed teeth, and he began to stack his own tiles in formulated pairs, “Perhaps that is the case… but perhaps it should be something else,” Iroh turned to face the man, his eyes glinting amber, “The world is not in harmony, in balance. It hasn’t been for a hundred years,” Iroh breathed in and out, stoking the flame within his spirit, “Besides, there are other ways to play Pai-Sho, and I was a decorated player, even before I tasted the mysteries.”

“Ah,” The florist nodded, understanding and intrigue crossing his face, “You wish to play not as a Grand Lotus, but as a General,” A small, sharp smile crossed the man’s face as he leaned forward, “What shall be our condition for war? A fight of Attrition, a battle of Territory, or a blitz to Oblivion?”

Iroh’s smile widened, and a flash of fangs lined the edges of his mouth, “What do you think?”

The florist hummed, then deliberately placed his first tile - White Jade on a central-white space - “There is only truly one game of war that the world plays anymore.”

“Indeed,” Iroh agreed solemnly, placing his bloodied White Lotus tile on an outer-red space, “Let us commence.”

As the two of them began to place their tiles across the board, Iroh noticed the florist’s eyes flicker to the first White Lotus tile. It was a subtle gesture, far more than that of the other man, but Iroh noticed it all the same.

What about that tile seemed to attract their attention?

Iroh hummed as he slid the question away for later. He had a game to play, after all, and a war to win. Though it had been years since he last played this variation of the game, he was no less sharp in mind and in tactics. He was of Sozin’s line, after all. He had been born for war, thrived in it.

It made it all the more terrible how both his sons were crushed by it.

Finally, once the two of them had set their tiles down, the other man had returned with tea, and the meeting could begin in earnest. Iroh silently thanked the man before sipping the tea - Ginseng, one of his favourites - asking in a low voice as he surveyed the florist’s first move, “Before we begin, may I inquire as to who my new friends are?”

“You may,” The florist smirked, watching Iroh move a White Lily tile forward, “My name is Takana.”

The other man perked up, watching the opening game with open interest, “...My name is Fung.”

“It is a pleasure to meet the both of you,” Iroh offered cordially, moving a Boat tile to an outer-white space in preparation for an offensive, “I am Iroh, though it seems you already knew me.”

“Word gets around,” Takana murmured, pausing for a moment before placing a shifting a Rock tile in defence, “I never expected to meet you, though. Especially at a place such as this.”

Iroh huffed lightly, “Destiny is a funny thing,” - and a cruel mistress - “I am just as… surprised as you are at what has happened in recent times.”

Takana hummed, watching with narrowed eyes as Iroh moved his bloodied Lotus tile behind the White Lily, “...I have heard of the passing of a certain prince.”

Iroh’s eyes turned to burning ice, and his voice was laced with subtle venom as he paired a Chrysanthemum with a Boat and pressed an attack, “And what of it?”

“You have my condolences,” Takana replied smoothly, though he didn’t try to hide the apathy in his eyes, moving a White Jade to defend, “The loss of family is always difficult, regardless of blood.”

Iroh’s eyes narrowed as he pushed forward a Rose tile to intercept the White Jade, “Prince Zuko was a far greater man than his father,” He restrained the urge to growl as Takana placed a Boat tile behind the White Jade, preparing for a jump, “The world has lost what may be its last hope for a peaceful end to the war.”

Takana hummed - whether he was doubtful or not was a mystery - “Interesting… Do you not believe the Avatar can bring such peace?”

Iroh said nothing for several moments, watching as Takana leapt over the Rose tile with his Boat, setting the stage for Iroh’s first trap. With an empty smile, Iroh moved forward a Dragon Tile, knowing that its potential danger would act as a smokescreen for his true weapon, “He is young and inexperienced. He may be able to depose the tyrant, but with no way to fill the power vacuum in his wake…” Iroh petered off, watching as Takana blundered, and moved his White Jade to block the Dragon.

Iroh moved the bloody Lotus tile forward, and captured the Boat, “Once, there might have been a solution, but now…”

That solution lay dead, buried under layers of ice and snow.

Takana frowned, moving back his White Jade to take revenge upon the bloody Lotus, “...Why can’t you take his place? You are of that family.”

Iroh shook his head, moving his White Lily to defend the bloody Lotus, knowing that it would be taken, “It wouldn’t fix things; it would only make them worse,” Iroh hummed as Takana took his White Lily, moving the Bloody Lotus to strike back against the White Jade, “I may have the best of intentions, but in the eyes of the world…” Iroh clamped shut his mouth, keeping silent as he outmanoeuvred Takana’s forces, wiping out a portion of his side of the board, “They will always see me as the Dragon of the West.”

Takana leaned back, thinking hard over both Iroh’s words and his predicament on the board, “...I see what you mean.”

Iroh smiled, a touch condescendingly as he moved forward a Jasmine tile, setting off another attack across the board, “I don’t believe you do…”

“Hmm,” Takana grumbled, using a Rhododendron to kick forward a Rock tile, taking two of Iroh’s tiles off of the board, “Regardless, the Avatar must become strong enough, unless we wish to face a repeat of the war’s beginning.”

“Ah,” Iroh hummed, using the new opening of the Rock’s absence to strike at Takana’s defences, drawing a quick, surprised frown before the old man controlled his face, “...Perhaps that is true.”

“It is true,” Takana growled, watching as Iroh’s Jasmine tile entrenched itself between two Rock tiles, “The beginnings of it have already started in the west, with villages being purged…” Takana agitatedly placed forward a White Lotus to block the Jasmine tile’s advances, “The only reason Omashu wasn’t given the same treatment was because the King stalled long enough for them to escape.”

“Yes, I heard,” Iroh murmured, tugging his beard. He moved forward another White Lotus tile in return, “Bumi himself told me of his choice, and that he plans to stick with it, even if it results in his death.”

Takana frowned, shifting his attention away from the Jasmine tile as he spoke, “I only met the King once years ago, back when I was a messenger. He never struck me as the suicidal type.”

“He isn’t,” Iroh refuted softly, moving a Blue Lotus to complement the White Lotus tile, “But there are sacrifices we must make if we wish to secure the future of the world. We all knew this when we joined the Order.”

Takana glared at the board, moving a Serpent tile with an ill-hidden growl, “ Some of us have sacrificed more than others. ”

“We have all lost much to the war!” Iroh snapped, moving the Dragon tile forward with enough force to rattle the board, “I have lost both my sons to this damnable war, and there is none who is of no more fault than myself! ”

They both became silent, calming themselves as they pondered their thoughts and their words. After several moments, Iroh leaned back with a sigh, “...I am not the only one who is mourning the loss of my nephew.”

Takana raised an eyebrow, silently asking Iroh to elaborate, “Zuko’s sister, Princess Azula… She hides it well, but Zuko’s passing has affected her more than I would have guessed.”

Takana leaned back, taking in this new information, “I wasn’t aware that the Firelord had sent his other child to the front.”

“I wasn’t either, until Omashu,” Iroh replied, moving the Dragon forward to terrorise Takana’s pieces, “...It is a… potential opportunity.”

Takana took a moment to move a White Lily tile to defend before looking up, “What do you mean?”

“Bumi and I had an opportunity to speak,” Iroh replied, utilising Takana’s attention to move the White Lotus tile forward to support the Bloody Lotus, “Given some of the things that have changed, we had to… rework some of our plans.”

Takana frowned at the dark turn of Iroh’s voice, “What plans?”

Iroh remained silent for a moment, idly moving his Dragon and White Lotus tiles back to back, before murmuring, “Have you ever heard of the ‘Darkest Day in Fire Nation History’ ?”

Takana sat up, a gleam of interest settling in his eyes, “...No?”

Iroh huffed a chuckle, though there was a definite coldness to it that hadn’t entered his voice in years, “I didn’t expect so. It’s something of a morbid joke amongst our historians,” Iroh leaned forward, pushing forth the Dragon tile, directly within enemy territory, “It was dark in more ways than one, my friend, though outsiders usually only understand its most literal sense.”

Takana hesitated for a moment, sitting in silence as he took the Dragon tile with his Serpent, before asking, “What does this have to do with the Order’s plans?”

Iroh hummed, moving his two Lotus tiles in tandem as he did so, “... It may bear repeating. ”

Takana frowned, slowly moving his Serpent in position to intercept the dual Lotus tiles - the game was nearing its end - “...And where do you plan to go, once your stay here is finished?”

Iroh hummed, pushing his bloody Lotus forward, alone in its final offence - a sacrifice to secure the game - “...You will find me at the great city of Ba Sing Se,” He breathed in and out for a moment, before finishing, “I believe… I believe that it is time for the Dragon of the West to come out of retirement.”

Takana froze, Fung with him, before leaning forward to take the bloody tile, his face pulled in a complicated expression, “...Truly?”

“Truly,” Iroh nodded, before moving his other White Lotus tile to capture the Serpent, “...I win.”

Takana reared back, staring at the board in shock, “...But I still have pieces in play.”

“But you are outnumbered and, more importantly, outmatched ,” Iroh replied, extending a hand to the Jasmine tile, “For any move you make against the Lotus tile…”

“...The Jasmine tile would strike and wipe me out,” Takana hummed, looking less shocked now, and more resigned, “And if I took the Jasmine tile…”

Iroh only nodded, collecting his pieces off of the board, “Indeed. It was an honour to play against you, Takana.”

Takana leaned back, eyes cast down to the bloody Lotus tile in his hand, “...And you, General Iroh,” He rose to shake Iroh’s hand, asking in a low voice afterwards, “You said you’re heading to Ba Sing Se?”

Iroh nodded, and Takana made eye-contact with Fung for a moment before presenting the Lotus tile to Iroh, tilting the spot of blood towards him, “If you are going there, then I must warn you of something.”

“Oh?” Iroh asked, taking the returned Lotus tile in his hand.

“Yes,” Takana nodded, “We have had very limited communication with the cell hidden behind the walls, and have only recently learned of what has happened there.”

At Iroh’s inquisitive glance, Takana continued with a grim tone, “The White Lotus cell of Ba Sing Se dissolved fifteen years ago, with only a small handful remaining faithful to the Ancient Ways,” At Iroh’s troubled visage, Takana pointed to the Lotus tile, eyeing the splotch of blood against it, “Those that broke away have made their own Order, antithetical to ours,” He pointed directly to the blood on the tile, “They’ve recently begun to spread outside of the city, causing members of our Order to convert to their ways.”

“They’ve painted over their Lotus Tiles, often with blood - the savages! ” Fung spat out, suddenly appearing venomous.

Iroh frowned, looking down on his tile before humming, “You thought I was one of them…” At Fung’s shamefaced nod, he turned back to Takana, “What is the name of this new Order?”

Takana’s face pursed, remaining silent for a moment before muttering, “...They call themselves the Order of the Red Lotus.”

Open Wound [https://i.imgur.com/Kn6FWrR.jpeg]

Open Wound

…

Northern Water Tribe

“Shift change is in five minutes.”

Unaka turned around to the voice, looking away from the rising sun to the east, “So? It isn’t as if I’ll be able to sleep now that the sun’s back.”

Yakata snorted, patting Unaka on his shoulder with a condescending grin, “Bold of you to assume that your shift is done. ”

Unaka sighed, rubbing his crusted eyes - he hadn’t slept for over 30 hours - “I’m up for Oasis duty?”

“Heh, yeah,” Yakata crossed his arms, standing next to Unaka as they watched the sun peek out from the horizon, “...If it’s any consolation, at least it’ll be warm.”

“The warmth makes me even more sleepy,” Unaka grumbled, straightening up with a small huff, “I still don’t get why the Chief wants us to guard it.”

Yakata winced, averting his eyes to stare at his spear, “Well… what if they come back?”

Unaka scowled at the thought, “It isn’t going to happen. They left weeks ago.”

Though, Unaka didn’t know what they would do if the Fire Nation returned.

Before the Avatar’s intervention, they had suffered heavy casualties, far too heavy.

Half of their combat benders.

A third of their warriors.

Their princess…

Unaka broke out of his thoughts when Yakata sighed, his face betraying his youth - they had to conscript younger tribesmen - children - to recover lost soldiers - “I know that. It’s just…” Yakata went silent, but Unaka understood.

Unaka patted Yakata on the shoulder, giving what little reassurance he could to the kid, “We survived, Yakata. It won’t happen again,” He went over to collect his spear from the wall, “I’ll see you at mealtime.”

Yakata sent back a shaky smile, quickly tapping a fist against his heart, “I’ll see you there.”

Unaka nodded before making the trek to the Spirit Oasis. It wasn’t a long walk, but it was silent. Once, what seemed like a lifetime ago, Unaka would have passed by several groups of warriors and tribesmen, talking and laughing together. On rare instances, he would have passed the Chief, Master Pakku, or even the princess, giving them a bow as they passed.

Now, though, the few he saw were silent, solemn, broken apart where once they stood in groups. There wasn’t a soul in the tribe that hadn’t lost a friend, lost family. Even those who were so lucky to keep all of their kin felt the loss of their tribe’s princess, their tribe’s hope.

No-one dared utter her name anymore, lest the Chief’s eyes glaze over in numbness.

It was the worst in the Oasis shift. They had all heard the story - the spirit tale - of how the Fire Nation scum killed the Moon Spirit, and the princess sacrificed her life to revive it, enacting holy justice upon the devils in red.

He had been in the healer’s hut, suffering a series of debilitating burns across his torso when he saw the windows shine with the reflection of holy vengeance. He didn’t see what happened, but the healers in the hut had gasped and bowed as La, Great Spirit of the Depths, strode forth and ended the battle for them.

Such a thing hadn’t happened since the tribe’s formation, thousands of years ago.

Now, as he stood vigil over the Oasis, he watched in silent dismay as the koi fish circled one another within the pond.

After her death, it became known that these fish bore the spirits of Tui and La, and that the white fish with the black dot bore the princess’ sacrificed soul.

Unaka wondered if the princess was still in there, watching him stand guard over her even in death.

The water of the pond rippled, with Tui nipping at La’s tail. Unaka watched in bemusement as the black fish growled , nipping back at Tui. This cycle repeated for several seconds before Tui sped up, splashing the water around her in agitation. This only prompted La to respond in kind, the two of them trading blows back and forth before slowing down back to their slow, sedate pace.

It was a mesmerising, almost surreal experience watching the Great Spirits fight in the pond. He hadn’t ever heard of such before, and a small part of him wondered if this was a change brought on by the princess, or by something else.

He didn’t have much time to ponder, as a rippling blade of yellow fire was held to his throat.

Before Unaka could fight back or call for help, his assailant - an ashmaker - brought a hand to cover his mouth, hissing in a choked growl, “ Don’t make any sudden movements, and don’t try calling for help. ”

Unaka glared up at the sky, silently promising revenge on whoever managed to somehow infiltrate their home.

His eyes widened.

Wait a minute. How is this firebender here? Has the Fire Nation returned to finish the job?

Unaka’s breathing quickened, and the hand holding his mouth tightened, “I’m going to ask you a couple of questions. Answer them truthfully, and you will live. Do you understand?”

Unaka nodded lightly, eyes strained as he kept them on the blade of fire.

The voice behind him hissed lowly to itself, almost as if it was in an argument with someone else, before hissing out in question, “What season is it?”

The intruder lowered his hand enough for Unaka to grit out, “Spring. 1st Trimester of Spring.”

The hand went back over his mouth before he could say anything more. The intruder remained silent for a moment before asking, “Are there any Fire Nation prisoners here?”

Unaka’s mind turned from thoughts of another siege to that of some sort of prison break, before coming back to reality when the fire dagger came a millimetre closer to his neck, “ Yes… They’re being held in the prison-hold to the east.”

The intruder remained silent for a moment before asking, “Are one of the prisoners an old, slightly overweight man? One who likes tea and Pai-Sho?”

Unaka blinked, “What?” At the very slight, but very hot flare of the knife, Unaka sputtered, “No! No, I - I have no idea!”

Unaka closed his eyes, preparing himself for death before the intruder hissed one last question, “How long before another guard comes here?”

Unaka gulped, “T-Three hours…”

There was silence for a moment, before a sigh was heard from the intruder, “Thank you for answering my questions.”

Unaka felt the blade move away from his neck before being shoved forward, falling onto the ground. As he turned around, the last thing he saw before being knocked out with the butt of a spear was a pale boy , bearing horrifying, blackened scars from his scalp down to his arm, searing him with phantom burns until death came to retrieve him.

…

Zuko felt the overwhelming urge to itch his chest, his shoulder, his arm, every patch of skin that flaked in ashes from his burns.

He didn’t, even though he really wanted to, because he knew that once he started he wouldn’t be able to stop , and he only had another two hours at most before someone found that guard sprawled at the edge of the Oasis, his spear and parka stolen. Knowing Zuko’s luck, it would just so happen that someone would pass by before then, alarming the entire tribe to his presence.

It had already taken Zuko a solid hour to locate and break into the prison-hold situated at the outer edge of the city. Compared to the rest of the well-constructed houses and bridges connecting the city, the prison-hold seemed sloppy in comparison, as if it was a rushed job to build it.

Zuko crept along the side of the ice shelf overlooking the stone beach holding the prison, watching as tribesmen peered down from their watchtowers, directing prisoners to various points along the beach.

He narrowed his eye as he viewed several canoes drifting out at sea, five or six Fire Nation prisoners standing with their hands behind their backs while a single Waterbender stood with them, a blade of ice ready in their hands.

Even from his distance, Zuko could see his people’s hopeless faces as they cast nets out into sea, flinching anytime a guardsmen went near. Zuko had to keep himself from lashing out at one point, snorting a puff of fire as one of the guardsmen whipped one of the prisoner’s back as some sort of punishment, though no fire was thrown.

In fact, as Zuko crouched and watched in growing dread, he saw no fire at all, none in his people’s breath, his people’s hands, his people’s eyes. While there were only a few hundred prisoners that he could see - Zuko tried very hard not to think about the tens of thousands of men drowned below the ocean - the ratio of benders to non-benders in their military was roughly 1 to 5, so there should have been some firebenders amongst them.

Yet there weren’t.

Zuko snapped away from his thoughts as he noticed a guardsmen begin to look towards him, greeting another guard. Zuko hid behind the block of ice, straining his ear to catch what they were saying. Though he was too far away to discern all of what they said, he caught the words ‘benders’ and ‘docks’ before being followed by ‘shift change’.

Zuko scowled to himself, whispering, “I don’t have much longer, and I haven’t found Uncle yet.”

Vaatu, who had remained silent as he watched in silent wonder through Zuko’s eye, spoke, ‘How do you even know if your uncle is here?’

Zuko’s lips pulled back as he began to navigate down the ice shelf, “I… I don’t know…” Zuko’s mouth straightened in a grim line, “It’s been a month since the siege… Unless he’s one of the prisoners…”

‘...Then your uncle has likely fled,’ Vaatu finished in a considering hum, ‘Speaking of, how do you plan to get out of here yourself?’

Zuko scowled, dropping onto the cold stone, “...I’ll figure it out.”

Zuko felt something akin to exasperation filter in through his link with Vaaru, and his scowl grew sharper as he slid past a poorly constructed wall with a hiss, “Well, it’s not like I’m hearing any ideas from you. ”

‘I have seen nothing of this world in 10,000 years, vessel,’ Vaatu groused, though it was underlined with a grim humour, ‘Unfortunately, we will have to rely on your instincts for this one.’

There was a definite note of sarcasm in Vaatu’s tone, which Zuko nearly snapped back to when he froze at a shout from behind, “Hey! What are you doing here?”

Zuko panicked, half of his mind screaming at him to fight and run and the other half screaming shit shit shit shit shit!

“Hey! Look at me when I’m-” A rough hand turned Zuko around, jolting him back to the present, “-Talking to youuu… Oh, Tui and La… ”

Zuko blinked his eye, recovering his senses to see a guardsmen reel back, as if slapped. Zuko almost thought that, somehow, the guard recognised him, in which case he was screwed .

But that was not the case, as the guardsmen winced , “Oh, fuck. Are you… alright, kid?”

Zuko blinked, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he wheezed out, bewildered, “...Yeah?”

The guard’s face twisted, reaching out a hand before hesitating and bringing it back down to his side, “Listen… What are you doing out of the healer’s hut?”

Zuko’s eye widened - think, Zuko, think! - before blurting out, “Shift change!”

The guard blinked, “Shift change?” Zuko’s dread skyrocketed as the man’s face darkened, “Of fucking course. How old are you, kid?”

Zuko had to keep himself from baulking - he bought that? - before replying, “S-Sixteen… Sir. ”

The guard’s hand twitched, and he brought it to his brow with a sigh, “...Fucking child soldiers… ” He lowered his hand with a sigh, “At least you’re not as young as the Avatar was, but still…”

Zuko took a small step back - he could get good distance if he blasted the man back, maybe - when the guard stepped forward, crouching down slightly to be eye-level with Zuko, “What’s your name, kid?”

Zuko cursed within his mind, wildly searching for a fake name when it burst out of his mouth, “Lee!”

The guard winced, bringing his hands to his ears, “You don’t need to shout , kid. And what kind of name is ‘ Lee ’?” He shook his head, standing back up with a frown, “Whatever, my name’s Iquoia. Where are you headed, kid? You seemed lost.”

Zuko remained silent for a moment - Great Spirits, this shouldn’t be working as well as it was - before replying, “The docks, the one with the firebenders…” Zuko winced, before schooling his face - wow, Zuko, that wasn’t suspicious at all - “...Could you point me there?”

Iquoia sighed, bringing his hand back to massage his temple, “First shift after being cleared by the healers, and they send you there? ” He shook his head, but began to walk forward, motioning Zuko to follow him, “Just… C’mon, I’ll show you a shortcut, Lee.”

Zuko followed the guard - Iquoia, his name was Iquoia - in a daze. What the hell was happening? His disguise wasn’t that good, right?

‘I imagine he’s taken pity on you, given your deformity,’ Vaatu spoke up in a droll voice, prompting Zuko to unconsciously bring a hand to his left eye, ‘I imagine such a thing is colouring his perceptions… You have suffered great injuries, vessel.’

Zuko felt his stomach churn at the thought. He shouldn’t pity me, I’m his enemy.

‘But he doesn’t know that,’ Vaatu pointed out, causing Zuko’s lips to thin, ‘I wouldn’t recommend being the one to correct him.’

Even though Zuko could see the wisdom in that, he still frowned at the thought.

He was a prince, he wasn’t to be pitied!

Yet this man did, and he acted kind where others had acted scornful…

Zuko looked up, eyeing the back of the Iquoia’s head as they walked through an icy hall.

He wouldn’t be so kind if he knew who Zuko was…

Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

Zuko’s thoughts paused as the two of them left the tunnel, Iquoia nodding to the guards standing to the sides. Zuko stared before him, and couldn’t help the small gasp that left his mouth.

The harbour before him lay hidden beneath a layer of ice, concealing the stone and ice structures holding it up. Along the ice walkways leading into the sea were several Fire Nation ships, being patched and welded together by Firebender prisoners standing on scaffolding, with several Waterbenders watching from below, an entire ocean at the ready if any of the prisoners tried anything.

Iquoia seemed to hear Zuko’s gasp, as he turned around with a small, vindictive smile, “Beautiful, isn’t it? After the Fire Nation took so much from us, it only seems right that we use their weapons against them,” Iquoia seemed particularly intent on Zuko’s scar as he said this.

Zuko was at a loss for words. If the Northern Water Tribe could get the ships working… It could change the tides of the war. Their navy was already a force to be reckoned with, even with only wooden ships…

Zuko jolted back to the present as one of the guardsmen walked up to Iquoia, casting an eye to Zuko, “Hey, Iquoia. Is it shift change already?”

“Yeah,” Iquoia grunted before taking a step back to give the other guard a better view of Zuko, “Not me, though. Today it’s someone new. This is Lee.”

The other guard scrunched his brow, “Really, a newbie today? Master Pakku’s coming here to inspect the rebuilding process. It doesn’t make sense for them to send new blood on the same day.”

Iquoia shrugged, “It’s not my business to know. Besides, we’ve been undermanned everywhere, so don’t complain about the extra help.”

The other guard frowned before shrugging with a sigh, “...I suppose I can keep him in the back; there isn’t much to do there,” He turned to Zuko with a small smirk, “Well, Lee, since you’re new here, the name’s Ruta. I’ll show you where you need to be.”

Ruta jerked his head back, motioning for Zuko to follow. Zuko almost missed Iquoia wave him goodbye, and after a moment of hesitation, Zuko waved back.

‘Already making friends, I see,’ Vaatu hummed, a note of humour in his tone, ‘You’ve only been back here for a few hours…’

Zuko scowled, hissing to himself, “ Shut up, Vaatu… It’s… ” Zuko didn’t know what to say. Complicated? Wrong? Confusing? Pleasant?

Vaatu didn’t respond, though Zuko felt a small sliver of… remorse? Zuko shook his head, forcing himself back to the present.

Zuko and Ruta reached the edge of the docks, and Ruta patted him on the back as he pointed to a corner, “You’ll stand guard there with a few of the others. We’ve already softened these ashmakers up enough that they won’t dare to attack you,” Ruta spared a glance at Zuko’s blackened scar, looking away with a small frown, “Who knows… Perhaps we’ll just so happen to look the other way, should you want to take an eye for an eye…”

Zuko didn’t miss the insinuation, and he gulped down his urge to yell, to scream - to retch at the thought. His silence wasn’t unnoticed, and Ruta patted him on the back in misunderstood sympathy, “Give it time, Lee… We’ll all get paid our due.”

Ruta walked away, barking out orders to a group of prisoners that were welding a panel to a ship. Zuko stared sightlessly for a few moments, before snapping his head up, mechanically walking towards the corner that Ruta had pointed to.

As he turned and leaned against the wall of icy stone, Vaatu whispered in his mind, ‘Are you alright, Zuko?’

Zuko remained silent for several moments, watching distantly as Ruta and other guards began rounding up prisoners away from the ships, a few of them waving whips of icy water threateningly. After a minute passed, Zuko whispered, “It doesn’t matter…” He turned to the warships lined across the docks, “We have to get out of here.”

‘How do you plan to do that?’ Vaatu asked once more, sounding a touch more agitated, ‘To my understanding, the prisoners’ purpose here is to fix these ships!’

“ I’ll figure it out, ” Zuko hissed once more, standing straight as Ruta stepped forward to regard the newly formed crowd of prisoners and guards.

Ruta passed his gaze across the gathering, seeming to do a headcount, “...Seems like we’re all here,” He straightened, raising his voice, “Alright prisoners! An inspection is going to begin shortly, and I expect you all to be on your best behaviour!” Zuko and several prisoners flinched at Ruta’s roar, “Any firebending or any such nonsense will get you a one-way ticket to solitary! Am I understood?”

There was utter silence in response, and Ruta nodded, satisfied, “Inspection begins in a few minutes. You can whisper amongst yourselves, but there will be silence when the inspections begin. Am I understood?”

The silence continued, and Ruta stepped off of his platform, marching through a line of guards. There was silence for a few more moments before the prisoners began to shift around, murmuring with one another, a few others speaking with some guards as well.

Zuko fidgeted, trying and failing to find some way out of this predicament - it wasn’t long before they found the guard at the Oasis .

Zuko was only brought out of his spiralling when he heard a familiar voice shout over the crowd, seemingly in argument, “He wouldn’t abandon us, Kyo-”

“He did! ” Cried out another slightly less familiar voice, “The old man got the hell out of dodge the first moment he could! He left us, Jee!”

Zuko jolted - Jee? There… There was no way - as the first voice - Jee? - responded with a growl, “He isn’t like Zhao , helmsman. He must have a reason-”

Zuko began to stride towards them as the other - Kyo… A helmsman of the Wani - replied, “ Seriously? It’s been a month. If he wanted to rescue us, he would have!”

Zuko reached Lieutenant Jee’s back as Kyo finished with a grumble, “Of course, that’s assuming he didn’t die like…” Kyo blinked, registering Zuko’s hesitant hand and scarred face behind Jee, “ Prince Zuko? ”

Zuko jerked back, turning his head in fear of the other guards hearing it, only to find the overall volume at the docks being high enough to cloud the outburst.

Turning back, Zuko flinched as he saw Lieutenant Jee stare at him as if he was a ghost.

Neither former crewmember of the Wani spoke for several moments before Jee whispered, “ Pr- Prince Zuko? You’re alive? ”

Zuko grimaced lightly before replying with a small whisper, “Yeah…”

Jee only blinked as helmsman Kyo slapped a hand against his head, “ Holy shit! We thought you fucking exploded from pirates!” Before Zuko could say anything about that, Kyo surged forward, pushing Lieutenant Jee out of the way, “What in Agni’s name happened to your face?!”

Zuko grimaced - what in Agni’s name, indeed - gritting out, “That’s not important…” He paused for a moment, “And with exploding, I… did?” He frowned as both of their faces paled, “I’m not dead, though…”

“ Sir ,” Jee’s voice sounded strangled, but as he spoke, his voice grew stronger, “ What are you doing here? ”

Zuko paused for a moment - there were many ways to answer that question, with varying results - before replying, “I was looking for Uncle… but he isn’t here.”

He heard Kyo whisper ‘ No shit! ’ as Jee frowned, “It’s… Why are you still here, a month after the siege?”

Zuko winced, “It’s a long story…” He turned back, confirming that none of the guards were watching, before turning back, “Have… Have either of you seen any way to get out of here? Like a canoe or something?”

Jee frowned, looking back at Kyo for a moment before nodding, turning back to Zuko, “Do you see that ship there?” He pointed to a ship at the edge of the icy cavern, and Zuko nodded, “There’s a river steamer connected to it that’s still operational, and none of the tribesmen know about. It isn’t desirable, but it’ll work for what’s needed,” He turned back to Zuko with a grim look, “We were planning on escaping with as many prisoners as we could… But with you here…” He turned back to Kyo, whose eyes flitted between Zuko and Jee before giving a small nod, “You can use it instead of us.”

Zuko’s eye widened, and he shrunk back, “What? No! You can’t sacrifice your freedom for me!”

Both Vaatu and Zuko’s spirit coiled together, displeased at the idea of taking another’s freedom.

For whatever reason, Jee’s eyes widened, as if surprised by Zuko’s denial of the plan, before leaning forward with a determined glint in his eyes, “ Your survival is more important than our escape! We may not be of any importance to them, but you most certainly are! ” Jee’s eyes flicked to Zuko’s scar - far greater and far more terrible than Jee could have ever fathomed - hardening with resolve, “Go! We’ll provide a distraction!”

Zuko hesitated, and that hesitation cost him, as a whistle sounded out across the docks, and Ruta’s voice hollered out from behind them, “RED ALERT! THERE’S A ROGUE FIREBENDER IN OUR WALLS!” A guardsman burst into the docks, several others behind him, “HE’S WEARING A GUARD’S UNIFORM, AND HAS A BURN SCAR OVER HIS LEFT EYE!”

Zuko knew he was caught, and grabbed Jee by the arm, “ I will return.” Jee’s face rapidly changed several times before he responded with a grim nod, turning back to Kyo as Zuko began to run. At Zuko’s first step, Ruta burst forth, pointing towards his direction, “Lee! It’s - what - it’s Lee! Get over here!”

“Run, Zuko!” Lieutenant Jee cried out behind him before turning around, sending a blast of fire to halt the guards chasing after him, raising his voice to roar, “ Men! Prince Zuko is here! Defend your Prince!”

Zuko heard several exclamations from both the prisoners and the guards, but didn’t turn back as he ran towards the ship at the edge of the docks. Despite their confusion, though, Zuko could hear the growing streaks of fire as prisoners toppled against other prisoners and guards, casting the entire docks into chaos as Waterbender fought Firebender.

They’re going to get themselves killed…

Was he willing to live with that?

Zuko snarled, shoving the thought away. As he climbed up from the scaffolding onto the ship, twin jets of water blasted below him as a few guards, along with an old man, broke away from the brawling crowd.

Zuko kicked open the metal door leading to the ship’s rear, slamming it behind him just in time to avoid a spike of ice, hard enough to pierce through the metal door. As he scrambled down, he heard the door wrench open behind him, stomps echoing across the metal husk as the guardsmen chased after him.

Finally, Zuko tumbled into the small chamber housing the river steamer, scrambling up to pull down the lever on the side of the ship’s wall to open its rear. As the steamer began to descend into the icy waters below, Zuko leapt over its side, narrowly avoiding a wave of ice headed his way.

As more guards entered the chamber, they launched volleys of ice and water towards the boat, forcing Zuko to duck behind the railing. Finally, after a moment’s pause in their attack, Zuko leapt up, roaring out as he punched as big a flame as he could into the water, propelling the boat forward.

As the steamer jostled forward, Zuko had to hold onto the railings to keep himself from falling. He was mere seconds away from breaching the mouth of the cave when the boat skidded to a stop, causing Zuko to stumble.

Upon standing back up, Zuko looked up to see the old man standing at the edge of the cruiser, extending his hands as he bent the water around Zuko’s boat, turning it around to face the docks.

Zuko’s eye widened, and fueled by a wild mixture of panic, exhaustion, and dread, Zuko extended a fist, billowing forth a desperate flame of gold and pale white against the water, evaporating the shifting water holding the boat still, at which point the boat began to accelerate, far faster than before.

Before the old man or the other guards could do anything to stop it, the boat shot out of the cavern, rocketing into the icy sea of the horizon. As Zuko collapsed on his back, shivering from the splashes of icy water, the last thing he heard before passing out was the angry shouts of the old man, and the distant crack of a whip, reminding him that, for his freedom, others had to sacrifice their own.

Prison Riot at the Northern Water Tribe [https://i.imgur.com/EVi2ofX.png]

Prison Riot at the Northern Water Tribe

…

Su Oku Spa Resort

By the time Zuko awoke, there was nothing on all sides but the sea. He didn’t know how long he was unconscious, though based on the light of the moon above, it must’ve been for several hours.

For all that Zuko bemoaned his terrible luck, there were enough rations hidden within the small boat to sustain him until he reached shore. The parka he stole helped keep him warm when the night was cold, which helped him conserve his fire, given that his hunger prevented him from recovering his flame as fast as he could in the past.

If there was one thing the days at sea granted Zuko, it was time to think, and plan. He had been gone - disappeared - for a month, and in that time, all traces of the Fire Nation navy upon these waters had all but vanished.

Uncle was dust in the wind.

He hadn’t had much time to count how large Zhao’s fleet was before he left for the Avatar, but by his memory, Zhao must have had hundreds of warships lined up for the invasion, only for most of them to have been destroyed in his foolishness.

Zuko shivered at the thought of how many of his people perished that day.

Zuko shook his head, shoving those thoughts away to ferment in the back of his mind. All things considered, Zuko had been very lucky in where the currents took him - for once in his life.

Had the currents pushed him a little more to the east, Zuko would have found himself in the middle of one of the last contested territories on this half of the mainland. Had they pushed a little more to the west, he would have been found by one of the many Fire Nation bases lined across the north-western coast.

Before, he would have preferred that over anything else.

Now, he wondered if they would have killed him on sight, even before they inevitably learned he was an Avatar.

Zuko wasn’t even sure what he was supposed to do as an Avatar. He understood, on a broad scale, that he was supposed to ‘spread chaos’, ‘oppose order’, and all the other things Vaatu preached about, but he didn’t know what that meant.

Was he supposed to master the elements, like the Avatar? Was he supposed to oppose the kid? Prevent him from fighting the Fire Nation?

Zuko’s frown grew as he bartered away his stolen parka in exchange for Earth Kingdom clothes. He had already opposed the Avatar, trying to capture him over the course of nearly three months. Was he supposed to continue that?

A part of him almost wanted to; it would be far more simple…

But… he hadn’t forgotten what he had learned about the war… About the massacres done in the Firelord’s name.

And Sozin’s Comet was set to return by Summer’s end.

…Zuko was no longer certain that his father wouldn’t repeat their family’s century-old mistake.

As Zuko left the market, wearing a new set of clothes, nondescript if not for the spear still strapped to his back, his thoughts turned to something else.

Was he… supposed to help the Avatar in ending the war?

Zuko shivered at the thought, and within him, he felt Vaatu recoil, ‘I cannot tell your purpose any more than I already have, vessel, but I will say it is not aiding Raava and her vessel in their endeavours.’

Zuko gave a sigh of relief - he really didn’t want anything to do with the Avatar anymore - before frowning once more, “Wait, am I not meant to oppose the war?”

Vaatu shifted within him, seemingly more invested in this line of thought than it had been in anything else for the past few days, ‘Not necessarily… You are my vessel, Zuko, my Avatar. You are meant to spread chaos where you can, and to halt the further rise of order…”

Zuko scowled, gritting his teeth as a small huff of smoke escaped his nostrils, “But what does that mean?! ”

Ignoring the looks of confusion he garnered from those walking nearby, Zuko waited for Vaatu’s response. After several moments, the Great Spirit hummed, ‘Whether the human war ends this year or a decade later, our Eternal War will be waged everlasting…’ Zuko frowned as Vaatu paused, taking in his words, ‘I do not care what you do for or against your human nation, only that it inspires Chaos. ’

Zuko’s frown deepened, his eye narrowing as he asked, “You want me to be - what - an anarchist?”

‘I do not know what that is, vessel,’ Vaatu responded drily before continuing in a more mystified voice, ‘...Spirits, the world, reality itself… It all exists upon a Balance of Opposing Forces,’ Vaatu shifted within Zuko, and his eye glowed a soft magenta as images flashed across his mind, ‘Push and Pull,’ Swimming within Zuko’s mind were two fish, circling one another for all of time, ‘Passion and Compassion,’ Blazing within Zuko’s eye was an infernal phantom, circled lovingly by a three-headed dragon, ‘Life, Decay, and Death,’ Growing within Zuko’s soul was the giver of souls, of faces, borne from the oak, who was circled both by an amorphous leviathan of sickly green along with a centipede cast in shadow.

Finally, Zuko’s mind, eye, and soul flashed to one final image, as Vaatu rumbled, ‘Amongst the oldest, greatest, most beautiful and terrible forces in the universe… Are Order and Chaos, Light and Dark, Good and Evil, Yin and Yang. That is what we are, my vessel. That is what you must embody.’

Zuko remained silent for several minutes, slowly walking towards the edge of Su Oku, before asking in a small voice, “...How do I do that?”

Surprisingly, Vaatu only chuckled, ‘That is for you to discover, vessel. I cannot order you to become one with chaos, only guide you,’ Vaatu hummed once more, continuing with a touch of morbid humour, ‘And if you happen to perish before fully realising your potential, then I can always try again with your next reincarnation…’

Zuko knew that his scowl only made Vaatu more amused, but he couldn’t help his annoyance, “Thanks for the vote of confidence…”

‘All the more reason to begin learning the elements…’ Vaatu responded with no hint of apology, ‘As it stands, Raava’s vessel holds the advantage to you in terms of raw power.’

Zuko opened his mouth to refute that, but held back on his pride enough to realise that Vaatu was right.

The Avatar had bested him several times already, and it was mostly through Airbending…

As the thought passed his mind, Zuko jolted, his eye widening as he breathed in dull horror, “How am I supposed to learn Airbending?”

‘...What do you mean, vessel?’ Vaatu asked, audibly confused.

Zuko brought a hand to his head, holding off the encroaching panic - oh, wait, too late - “The… The Avatar Cycle! It goes Fire, Air, Water, then Earth…”

‘Ah…’ Vaatu hummed in understanding, ‘But that is Raava’s cycle, is it not? Why must we beholden to the same cycle?’

Zuko blinked, “...So… It doesn’t matter what order I learn the elements in?”

Vaatu rumbled, ‘You are the Dark Avatar of Chaos to Raava’s Avatar of Order. Her Inauguration as Master of the Elements was millenia ago… Ours is only just beginning…’

Zuko frowned as he parsed out Vaatu’s words, “...Even then… Wouldn’t it still be a problem, the lack of airbending?”

‘Hmm…’ Vaatu seemed to be thinking deeply, though for all that Vaatu could parse Zuko’s thoughts, Zuko didn’t quite have the same capability with the spirit, ‘Perhaps… But perhaps not…’

Zuko grunted in annoyance as he reached the edge of the town, hiking towards the edge of the cherry-blossom forest overlooking the colony, “What do you mean? ”

‘Only that there are always alternative ways to learn the elements…’ Zuko paused as Vaatu said that, narrowing his eye as something that had been sitting in the back of his mind finally clicked.

“So - wait a minute - can I bend all the elements?” Zuko looked down as his hands - one whole, one scarred - and, despite himself, felt an almost whimsical excitement fill his veins.

Every kid dreamed at least once in their life - yes, even Azula, no matter how she may deny it - of bending all four elements.

Unfortunately, Vaatu’s hesitation brought Zuko’s hopes crashing back down to the pit they called home, ‘I… do not believe so…’

Zuko sighed to himself, dismally bringing his hands back to his sides as Vaatu continued slowly, as if trying to recall what he knew, ‘Before my last encounter with Raava, and my imprisonment within that damned tree, I never paid much mind to bending,’ Vaatu shifted, and remained silent for several minutes as Zuko walked through the forest, before speaking in low, almost resigned tones, ‘I knew that it was a great and terrible power, wielded by the Ancient Ones, but I never paid any mind to any humans commanding the elements. I certainly never expected that one with Raava to wield such power…’

Zuko hummed as he reached the point in the forest where the trees began to lose their bright pink hues in favour of greens and browns, “...The Avatar.”

‘Indeed,’ Vaatu agreed, with Zuko feeling the vague sensation of a nod, ‘But that human attained his gifts from the Blessings of the Ancient Ones… And it seems as though they, too, have left.’

Zuko frowned at Vaatu’s aggravated tone, “Uhh, if I could ask, what are the ‘Ancient Ones’?”

Vaatu sighed, but responded without any particular bite in his words, ‘They were beings of power, not unlike the Great Spirits, but otherworldly in their own way… They took many forms that towered over even the greatest of human creations, but their most common was that of the Lion-Turtle.’

Zuko gasped, “I’ve heard of those! I thought they were a myth .”

Vaatu hummed, ‘Oh, they are no myth, vessel, but I suppose you may be forgiven for your ignorance, given their disappearance…’ Zuko began to walk once more as Vaatu growled to himself, ‘That does limit our options in terms of bending…’

Zuko frowned as he walked, “...How so?”

‘Without their Blessing, there are precious few ways to acquire the ability to bend an element one is not blessed with at birth…’

Zuko raised an eyebrow, “...I didn’t know that someone could even acquire bending they’re not born with.”

Vaatu did what Zuko could only guess was a grunt, not feeling enough humour for a chuckle - even a mean one - nor enough interest for a hum, ‘Yes, though most are rather arbitrary. You could get possessed by a spirit who holds sway over an element, though the time possessed would have to be for several months for any chance for it to be permanent…’ Vaatu trailed off as it thought, ‘This also risks the human vessel’s death, given that such possession is neither as merciful as the short-term nor as stable as the long-term,’ Zuko shuddered as memories of Vaatu’s first attempted possession came to him.

Zuko almost thought he felt a sliver of remorse from Vaatu before he continued, ‘You could acquire the Blessing of a Great Spirit, though that only works if one is not already taken as a Child of one. This will not work for you, as you are both Child of Chaos and Child of Fire.’

There was a definite note of fondness in Vaatu’s voice as he said this, though it was quickly smothered as the dark spirit continued, ‘The only other possibility I can think of is achieving such a spiritual understanding and connection to a given element that one opens their soul, mind, and body to it. However… While such a connection is theoretically possible in any human, it has not actually occurred to my knowledge.’

Zuko’s mouth thinned as he considered these possibilities, “So… You’re saying that the only achievable way for me to learn the other elements is to… I dunno, achieve a spiritual connection with the element?”

‘Yes,’ Vaatu responded simply.

“...And you’re saying that this method - the method by which I must learn three elements - hasn’t been done once in practice?” Zuko asked with a very minor, very slight hysteria that was rising very slowly, and very surely.

‘To be fair, I was stuck in a tree for 10,000 years,’ Vaatu pointed out, with a touch more grim humour in his voice than earlier, ‘Who knows? Maybe in that time, a human has achieved it?’

“And that helps me HOW?! ” Zuko exploded, the hysteria suddenly rising out of his mouth into golden puffs of flame, “The Avatar can just pick up bending like it’s nothing! I’ve seen it!” Zuko yelled, remembering how, in the span of but a week, the Avatar suddenly went from bending air to adding a powerful bit of water to his arsenal as well, “How am I supposed to even start bending another element before he masters all of them?”

‘Well, you could start by getting a move-on,’ Vaatu replied dryly, ‘You wish to find your uncle and to learn the other elements. I wish to combat Raava’s vessel. These wishes shall align.’

“Of course…” Zuko grumbled, anger giving way to deep-rooted exhaustion.

Zuko then paused at a distant rumble behind him, turning around to see heavy clouds along the horizon.

Typical.

Growling to himself, Zuko picked up his pace towards the mountains to the east. If he was lucky, the distant storm would merely pass him by, without any grief.

Who was he kidding?

His particular brand of luck would probably act like a magnet for the storm.

…

Herbalist’s Hut

Lo and behold.

It was storming. Hard.

Trees snapped around Zuko as he ran through the forest, the winds and lightning tearing through it as if it had a vendetta against him.

With his luck, Zuko couldn’t discount the possibility.

He breached a clearing of trees, leading to a small valley with a hut in its centre. Not particularly caring at this point about whether the hut was habited, and whether those potential habitants would welcome him or not, Zuko fled towards it.

Just before reaching the edge of the hut - and just before he would have kicked open the door - the door was opened, allowing Zuko to tumble in like a wet mouse-dog.

It was then that Zuko’s legs joined the rest of Zuko’s body and betrayed him, becoming no more than jelly as he collapsed on his back, heaving in as much dry(ish) air as he could.

He had to prevent himself from hissing in pain as droplets of rainwater ran along the lacerations and burns marring his skin.

Zuko didn’t have time to recover for long, as his vision was suddenly obscured by two beady eyes, glaring down at him behind tufts of white fur.

The creature - was it an owl-cat? A leopard-moose? - meowed loudly at him, prompting Zuko to roll away on instinct, putting up his fists in defence.

He rather doubted he struck an imposing figure, wet and thin as he was.

Before any sort of fight could break out between the Dark Avatar and the creature - was it just a regular cat? - a creaky voice rang out behind him, “Oh, do stop scaring the poor child, Miyuki. It’s bad manners.”

Zuko whirled around, fire sputtering into weak daggers in his fists, only to see an old woman gazing down on him, unimpressed.

Zuko nearly lowered his guard on reflex - he’d rather avoid adding ‘attacking the elderly’ to his list of sins - but refrained from doing so.

He had seen that even the smallest, most innocent-looking spirits could kill without mercy.

He thought it prudent to apply the same thought process to humans.

The old woman didn’t show any indication one way or the other of caring for Zuko’s readiness to harm her, instead turning her eyes to the still-open door, “You know, I’d make a joke of what the cat dragged in, but all Miyuki did was open the door. You dragged yourself in.”

Zuko blinked, only partially processing the joke(?) before the old woman let out a sharp cackle, turning away from him, “Well, come on, child! Floor’s not all that sanitary.”

Zuko’s fists wavered, before releasing, dissipating the flames, “...What?”

“Get up!” The woman turned back to him, a singular eye bulging out in crazed impatience, “I understand that sleeping on the floor seems all good an’ reasonable, but y’look sick on your feet, child; not to mention the burns ,” The woman began to scuttle away once more, muttering to herself about youth, and their idiotic tendencies.

Zuko just stared for a few more moments, prompting Vaatu to pipe up for the first time in several minutes, ‘Interesting company you’ve found, vessel.’

Zuko scowled at nothing - sometimes it rankled not being able to scowl at the spirit - before noticing the cat trot into his peripheral vision, allowing him to direct his ire to the creature.

The cat - was it truly a cat? - stared back, and began to lick its paw.

Zuko didn’t trust the cat - ‘Which says more about you than the creature,’ - though it didn’t look like it wanted to hurt him at the moment, so Zuko pushed himself onto his feet.

He wasn’t any less wary of it - or the woman - though.

Looks could be deceiving.

“Child, get over here!” Zuko heard the old woman holler from behind a stack of shelves, “Don’t make me sic Miyuki on you!”

Zuko’s eye flickered to the cat - who stared at him with dead eyes - before grunting out, “Fine.”

Zuko walked over to the other side of the hut, the cat trailing behind him, only to find the woman stacking various vials and bowls next to a table.

Ignoring the burgeoning fears that he was in a witch’s den, Zuko flattened his voice into something that he hoped sounded reasonable, “Listen, miss… I won’t be here for long, just until the storm passes,” The woman didn’t seem to be listening to his words, causing his voice to become more heated - Vaatu sighed in the back of his mind - “I can pay you back-”

“Oh, hush up, child,” The woman interrupted, batting her hand towards Zuko’s direction, still not facing him, “I don’t need money !” She finally turned to eye him with that special look that all old people seemed to know, telling Zuko in silence just how much of an ass he was making of himself, “What you can do is shut your mouth, and sit your butt on that table there!”

Zuko followed the woman’s finger to the table at her side, causing his eye to narrow, “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why?’” The woman grumbled back, fully turning to face him.

Zuko’s gaze flitted between the old woman and the herbs and minerals she was preparing to the side, the irrational idea of this being a witch’s den somehow becoming more and more rational , “What are you planning to do to me?”

Zuko could recall all of Azula’s stories about witches, and how they would create potions to melt your skin, Zuzu, to grow mushrooms out your nose, and to turn your nails to metal, before melting them, and to harvest your organs for evil rituals that would allow them to control your blood, shifting poor little Zuzu around like a puppet-

“I’m planning to heal you,” The old woman drawled, as if Zuko was a braindead child. She raised a distinctly unimpressed eyebrow, “Isn’t that why you’re here?”

Zuko snapped away from his memories, turning back to face the old woman, “...No?”

Vaatu sighed within his mind, causing Zuko’s confusion and annoyance to spike further, only for it to be stymied as the woman’s face became a touch more sad, “Really? You just… happened to come here?”

Zuko growled, the lingering water on his person evaporating into steam, “Yes! Is there a problem with that?”

The woman sighed, turning back to arrange the contents next to the table, “Trust me, child. There’s a very large problem, and I will tell you,” She turned back, pinning him with a pointed stare that painfully reminded him of his mother, “ Once you get on the table.”

Zuko hesitated, before slowly shifting over to the table, “If you try anything…”

“Oh, please,” The woman scoffed, reaching over to pet the cat - the demon - as it jumped up alongside Zuko, “I hardly think I’m capable of harming you more than you’ve already been.”

Zuko narrowed his eye, though he silently agreed with the woman.

He rather doubted she could do as much pain as Father’s burning hand - wrapped onto his face in a loving, paternal gesture.

Zuko hissed as he pressed his right - burned, charred - fist against the table to balance himself, prompting the woman’s eyes to widen as she stared at the blackened hand.

She remained that way for several seconds before letting out a breath, “Oh, Oma and Shu , I didn’t even see that ,” She regarded him with crazed eyes, “You should be dead .”

Zuko blinked, not knowing how to respond, only for the woman to snap, “Take off your shirt.”

Zuko glared down at her - he didn’t want people to see just how far the burns spread - “No.”

The woman glared back at Zuko - rather impressively, though he didn’t admit that outloud - “I need to see your burns, child. I can’t treat them without seeing them.”

“No,” Zuko repeated, pulling his face to scowl harder at the woman - a scowl aided by the everpresent glower from his burn - “I’m fine. ”

“I can already tell you’re half-blind and half-deaf, child; you’re only proving that you’re half-stupid as well!” The woman snarled, pressing her face closer to Zuko’s, “If the burns aren’t treated, you will die from infection, child. It’s not a good way to pass.”

Zuko’s glare faltered as images of Uncle’s worried face mixed into the woman’s.

Uncle had forced Zuko to remain in bed for those first few - hellish - months.

Uncle had said much the same about his burn and infection.

The burn was much smaller then…

Zuko closed his eye, reigning in the embers of his inner fire, before muttering, “Fine…”

Zuko reached up, ignoring the crackling pains of his right arm, and carefully tugged the tunic over his shoulders, remaining wary of rubbing the fabric against the flakes of his burned skin.

The inside of the tunic had dried splotches of a dark, ugly red.

Zuko placed the bundled tunic on his lap, turning his head away from the old woman - from the horror he would surely find in her gaze; the disgust .

His eye locked with the cat’s, watching as the shifty creature regarded him with slitted green eyes, almost seeming to glow of their own power.

Zuko didn’t trust the creature one bit.

Zuko’s eye flickered back to the woman as she breathed out slowly, “...I have no idea how you’re even alive .”

Zuko clenched his tunic with his left hand - his other, burned hand was being examined by the woman - and grit out, “I have no idea why you care. ”

The woman ignored him, procuring a small pick to poke into Zuko’s charred skin.

He didn’t feel anything at all.

Zuko… didn’t feel anything aside from a dull thrum of chronic pain as the woman pricked the edges of his burned arm and tapped his fingers with a small wooden instrument. He narrowed his eyes as the woman flipped his hand over, examining the veins along his arm that were hidden underneath a layer of flaking burns.

The woman pursed her lips in silence as she examined Zuko, slowly trailing from his arm to his chest - the burns draped over his right shoulder and neck, almost as if he had worn a half-cape of fire - before moving up to his chin, softly cupping it in her hands as she turned Zuko’s head to the side.

It was an exercise in immense patience for Zuko not to rip himself away from her grip.

The woman leaned in close, staring into his scarred eye - from which he could no longer see - and hissed, “That’s not good.”

Zuko frowned, thinking to himself that, compared to the rest of his burns, his eye was rather tame in comparison. The woman seemed to disagree, though, as she hopped away from Zuko, scuttling over to her vials to pop open a few, pouring them into the wooden bowl.

The woman was muttering furiously to herself, though it was too low for Zuko to parse out. As she began to add different herbs into the mixture, she asked, “How long have you had the burn?”

Zuko clenched his tunic just a bit tighter, “Which one?”

The woman paused, face briefly falling into something like grief before once more going neutral, “The one that melted your eyeball.”

Zuko jolted in place - his eyeball melted? - and had to fight back a shiver as he ground out, “It’s complicated.”

Time worked differently in the spirit world, after all.

The woman didn’t seem to like the answer, biting out, “Well, if it was any longer than three days, you would’ve been dead, or nearing it.”

Zuko scowled, “Well, I can tell you it’s been longer than three days,” He turned his head away from the woman, muttering under his breath, “ I’m fine. ”

‘Debatable.’

The woman echoed Vaatu’s words, “I rather doubt that, child, now turn to look at me.”

Zuko grumbled as he did so, only to reel back as the woman extended a hand towards his burned eye, prompting the woman to growl, “Do you want an infection, child? I’m tryin’ to treat your eye.”

Zuko’s lips pursed, and he reluctantly scooted back to the woman, “...I don’t feel sick.”

“And that’s a damn blessin’, child,” The woman grumbled as she began to wipe around Zuko’s scarred eye with the homemade ointment - Zuko shivered at the phantom burns of her touch - “I said it before and I’ll say it again: you should be a corpse.”

By this point, the words only enflamed Zuko’s annoyance. He growled lowly at the woman, “I’ve survived worse.”

The woman snorted unkindly - as did Vaatu, in the back of Zuko’s mind - and groused, “Trust me, child. You haven’t. ”

‘She’s not wrong,’ Vaatu interrupted Zuko before he could snap back, ‘Agni’s flames were anything but merciful.’

Zuko’s good eye twitched, and he consciously kept his mouth shut as he snapped back in his mind.

Father was worse.

Unexpectedly - at least to Zuko - Vaatu seemed to recoil within his mind, becoming entirely silent in its thoughts.

Zuko rolled his good eye - seriously; Father’s mark had been far more painful - only to snap them back to the woman’s as she gripped his - scarred - chin.

“You’re thinking… communing with something,” The woman narrowed her eyes, staring into Zuko’s own, “...You’re a host- ”

“ I am a vessel ,” The Dark Avatar growled, Zuko’s ire rousing Vaatu from its silence to form together. The hairs on Zuko’s skin began to rise as a veil of violet began to overtake his vision, “ I am no mere husk . ”

The woman only gazed back, uncaring of his growing anger, “What’s the difference? You found a child’s body to call home, spirit . What you name it means little to me.”

“Watch your tongue, human,” Vaatu’s voice spoke out of Zuko’s mouth, trembling in fury, “You speak of what you do not understand.”

“Then make me understand, spirit,” The woman demanded blithely, her voice beginning to rise in righteous anger, “Because right now it seems you are using this child as a meat puppet! ”

The Dark Avatar reeled back, bringing his unscarred hand to his head as the beings within separated.

The Dark Avatar closed his eye - as heavy as lead - hissing at the dull pain crackling along his charred skin, before opening his eye once more.

Its shade of violet had once more receded to a brilliant amber.

Zuko slowly retracted his hand from his brow as the pain once more numbed to something bearable, and directed a glare at the woman, “There! You happy now?”

“Hardly,” The old woman sniped back, though she quickly deflated, “...What in Shu’s name have you gotten yourself into, child?”

Zuko gripped his tunic, scowl set on his face. He reached into his mind for Vaatu’s advice, only to find that the spirit had once more gone silent, prompting Zuko to grumble to himself.

After a moment, Zuko mumbled, “...I fought a spirit, which caused the burns…” He looked away, missing the look of horror on the woman’s face, “It… wasn’t as bad as last time - my last burn, that is… I know it looks bad, but it really isn’t,” He turned back to look at her, “I know the signs of infection. I’m not… I’m not showing any signs.”

The woman just stared at him for several moments, looking both mournful and baffled as she breathed out, “Which spirit, child?”

Zuko pursed his lips, but eventually answered, “Agni.”

The woman, seemingly having hit her threshold for deer-bullshit, breathed out in weary acceptance, “Of course it was the fucking sun. Oma, give me strength…” She placed the ointment back onto the table before picking up a smaller bowl, along with several sharp, metal objects.

Zuko eyed the new tools with apprehension, “...You’re not planning to stab me, are you?”

The woman huffed, “Yes, actually, I am.”

Zuko’s eye widened, though the woman placed a firm hand to keep him from getting up, “I’ve already done the burn checkup, and your explanation aligns with the unusually clean burns, even if they’re horrific to look at,” - Zuko scowled, though he couldn’t argue the point; Some bits of skin were pitch-black - “None of the usual remedies for infection are needed, since they were purified by the holy flames, but your eye still needs to be treated.”

Zuko’s eye narrowed - holy flames? - and he asked, with no small amount of suspicion, “I thought my eye had melted? ”

“Yes,” The woman turned to him, looking grim-faced as she held a small, metal pike, “And it needs to be removed, lest it begin to rot inside your head.”

Zuko’s first instinct was to yell ‘NO’ and to book it, but he kept himself still long enough to fully process her words.

His eye - the eye which had partially melted - was rotting inside his skull.

Zuko brought a hand to his mouth, feeling small amounts of bile reaching up to his throat, “...How long should it take?”

The woman tilted her head, looking faintly surprised that he hadn’t fought her on it, “...It shouldn’t take any longer than an hour, two at the most,” She hummed as she gazed along the rest of Zuko’s charred skin, “I may be able to find something to numb the pain of the scars, since that seems to be the only thing you can feel anymore.”

Zuko’s mind was still focused on the rotting eye in his head, causing his voice to come out somewhat airy, “What?”

“The nerves along your arm and shoulder are burnt to hell, enough to numb them from physical touch, but not enough to get rid of the pain,” The woman’s voice was mildly disgruntled as she reached to pet Miyuki’s head, “Honestly, child, Agni seemed to have wanted to make it as painful as possible for you to live.”

Zuko nearly snorted. He had honestly forgotten about the pain at this point, he had numbed to it.

It wasn’t anything new.

His grim humour quickly died away as his eyes drifted to the metal pike, “...Let’s get this over with.”

“Well, not yet!” The woman snapped as Zuko laid his back on the table, “I’d rather not perform on a child who’s still awake.”

Zuko glared at her, “I can take it.”

“Don’ be cute with me, child. It won’t work,” The woman stared down at him with imperious eyes, “I need you to keep still for this to work, else I might end up puncturing the brain.” Her eyes became dark as they drifted away, staring into the distance, “I speak from experience, child…”

Zuko closed his eye, relentlessly pushing away the mental image of a pike poking into his brain. After a few moments, he let out a small breath, “...Fine. I’ll take a sedative.”

The woman looked down on him, eyes losing their fire as they became sad, “That’s a good lad…” She reached over for a bowl, placing it on Zuko’s lip, “You’ll be all cleaned up by the time you’re awake.”

Zuko nodded to himself, resigning himself to the woman’s mercy for the next few hours.

He was still wary - of the woman, the cat, the world - but…

He’d trust her… until she proved she couldn’t be trusted.

Zuko didn’t know anymore if he wanted it one way or the other.

Zuko drank the mixture - which was surprisingly sweet - feeling his eye begin to droop as the image of the woman’s sad smile faded away into oblivion.

…

‘......u….ko…Z…ko.’

‘Z…uko. W…ke up, Zu…o.’

‘WAKE UP.’

Zuko grumbled in his sleep, rolling onto his left side as he pulled the blanket further up to his chin. He just wanted five more minutes, Uncle, just give him five more minutes sleep; tea can wait.

‘You are pathetic, vessel. Wake. Up.’

Zuko frowned, relentlessly keeping his eyes - eyes? - closed against Uncle’s demands.

It was rather rude of Uncle to call him pathetic.

He was the Prince of the Fire Nation!

He was also nearing full-awakeness, which translated to full-anger. This anger only rose as a sigh reverberated deep within his bones, prompting Zuko to snap his eyes open-

Only to hiss at the sudden and sharp feeling of numb emptiness in his head.

Zuko groaned in mild confusion, pressing his right hand - which flared with burning pain - against his good eye, blocking out the light that blinded him.

Zuko tried to peer outside of his scarred eye, only to be reminded that he could no longer see out of it.

He couldn’t see out of it since his Agni Kai against Agni.

Zuko jolted, fumbling out of his blanket and onto the floor, groaning in pain and confusion as he began to recall that he was no longer on a ship, that it wasn’t Uncle telling him to wake but a grumpy spirit of darkness.

‘Ah, yes, as if you aren’t the pinnacle of grump yourself,’ Vaatu’s voice droned sarcastically, somehow following it with a slow clap that echoed in Zuko’s skull.

He dully wondered how Vaatu could clap without any hands.

That thought brought Zuko’s attention to his own hand, the burned one.

It was still burned - with angry splotches of crimson and white and absolute darkness - but there were no longer flakes of skin peeling off - almost as if they were scales - and his arm and palm were wrapped in bandages.

Zuko pressed a finger against the palm of his burned hand, not feeling anything until a dull throb of phantom pain raced from upwards and into his neck.

Zuko blinked, idly registering the pain as something to be felt - that was all that pain was to him anymore - before quickly bringing up a hand to his facial scar.

It felt… smooth. Hardened and crisp, like the old scar, but treated and smoothed, almost feeling like muscle.

…There was a leather patch over his eye.

Zuko’s breathing began to quicken, and a firm yet gentle hand met his shoulder, “Easy, child. Slow breaths.”

Zuko followed the advice, breathing in as deeply as he could, before slowly exhaling, beginning the familiar practice he and Uncle had always done during meditation.

Oh, spirits, what would Uncle say if he saw him now?

“Deep breaths, child,” The old woman reminded, kneeling down on creaking knees to be on level ground. Zuko dully registered the woman’s cat rubbing against his side, “It’ll be all right.”

Zuko breathed in and out, “...Did you get…”

“Your eye,” The woman asked, continuing as his small nod, “I got it out, cleanly. I also treated your burns to the best of my ability,” Her visage became troubled, though she hid it quickly behind a kind smile, “I wasn’t able to do much aside from cleaning off the burned skin. Thankfully… It seems that your burns won’t be at risk for any infection in the future.”

Despite her smile, her voice made it clear that she believed this to be a pyrrhic victory at best.

Vaatu rumbled inside of Zuko’s mind, sounding vaguely mystified, ‘You were put through a baptism of fire, my vessel. You bear the scars of your ordeal, but its fire shall burn away any future plagues on your being.’

Zuko breathed in through his nose. That… was something, he supposed. Burns weren’t anything new to Zuko, and if Vaatu was correct in his assertion, this burn seemed to prevent Zuko from falling ill in the future.

‘Of course I’m correct, vessel. When am I not?’

Zuko huffed a small, tired laugh - of course, Vaatu - before moving to stand.

His legs were shaky, though it was more from exhaustion than any real pain. Zuko helped the woman up to her feet, asking in a low murmur, “How long was I out?”

“A day,” The woman grumbled, prompting Zuko to whirl at her with a wide eye, “Don’t look at me, boy! I only gave you a dose for two hours.”

Zuko blinked, rubbing his - singular - eye in lingering exhaustion, “...I’m sorry for taking your time-”

“Don’t be sorry , boy,” The woman cuffed Zuko on his head, prompting a small yelp from him, “You slept real peaceful, given how strung up you were before then,” She paused as she hobbled away, turning a narrowed eye at him, “How long were you awake, child?”

Zuko blinked, “...Three days?” Zuko frowned in thought, recalling the storm that he had restlessly tried to outrun - to no avail - “Yeah… It was a little more than three days.”

The woman glared at him, “Well that would’ve been nice to know!” She turned back, grumbling to herself, “C’mon, child. I have something for you to eat.”

On cue, Zuko’s stomach rumbled - he also hadn’t eaten much in three days - prompting Miyuki to meow at him reproachfully.

Zuko glared at the cat - Spirit? Monster? Whatever - before trudging behind the woman. He could hear out of his right ear that the storm was still raging outside, even a full day later, preventing him from leaving.

He had already taken far too much of the woman’s hospitality.

Zuko sat onto a stool next to a tea table that the woman had set, staring distantly to the side - his fingers drifted to the eyepatch wrapped around his head - “...You don’t have to waste food on me.”

“Oh, really? ” The old woman responded snidely, pointedly placing down a small bowl of berries, “Too bad for you, then, since I seem to have a surplus of these berries, and I can’t eat them all myself.”

Zuko narrowed an eye at the woman as she sat down across from him, wearing a small, self-satisfied smile. He almost rejected her offer - a small part of his mind cautioning against poison - but upon seeing Miyuki sending a pointed glance at the bowl, he took it into his hands.

Better he eat than that infernal cat.

The woman watched him eat for a few moments before nodding to herself, leaning back against her chair with a resigned sigh, “...This war is a terrible thing.”

Zuko faltered, his eye drifting away from the woman. His nation fought for the war - his family lived and breathed for the war.

The Air Nomad Genocide was a terrible thing, yes, but… the Fire Nation was meant to share its wealth to the rest of the world, to share its greatness. They tried with diplomacy - or so the history scrolls said - and were forced to use a heavy hand for the world’s own good.

But was this war - this one-hundred year conflict - worth the bloodshed?

The woman closed her eyes in response to his silence - he idly noted how tired she looked - and breathed out in a whisper, “It seems more and more like the children are taking up arms against each other.”

Zuko remained silent at that - he couldn’t help but recall the Avatar’s youthful face, twisted in terror by his flames - and the woman brought her hands together, almost as if in prayer, “...Shu below, I’m going to hate myself for this,” She turned to Zuko, a sorrow set deep in her fading eyes, “What’s your name, child?”

Zuko hesitated, then placed down his half-finished bowl of berries - he wasn’t so hungry anymore - and whispered, “...Zuko.”

The old woman’s eyes flashed for a moment, though she quickly set her face with a small smile, “It is good to meet you, Zuko,” She paused as Miyuki hopped up to finish the remains of the bowl, “My name is Nǎi-Nai.”

Zuko bowed his head as one would to an elder, “It is good to meet you as well, Nǎi-Nai.” Zuko turned away to watch the storm, which seemed to be slowly receding. Zuko clenched his right fist - sending a ripple of numb pain up his arm - and breathed out, “...Thank you. For healing me.”

For healing the child of a conquering nation.

The old woman - Nǎi-Nai - waved a hand, “You’ve thanked me enough, child.” She turned to watch the storm with him, staying silent for several minutes before asking in a wry tone, “Would you be up to a game of Pai-Sho with me?”

Zuko blinked, “What?” He turned to Nǎi-Nai - and for a second, he saw Uncle waiting by a Pai-Sho set for an opponent that never came - “No.”

Nǎi-Nai - thankfully - wasn’t offended by his rejection, instead snorting to herself, “The old man was right,” She chuckled darkly to herself, “You really don’t like playing Pai-Sho.”

Zuko grit his teeth - he hadn’t played in three years, not since the Agni-Kai - and demanded, “What old man? Describe him!”

“Portly,” Nǎi-Nai snarked, “Carefree, not to mention a mean Pai-Sho player,” The woman’s eyes softened, “You’re his nephew, aren’t you?”

Zuko breathed out - it had to be Uncle; it had to be - and whispered, “How did you know?”

The woman’s face turned sad, though she wore a grim smile, “He was looking for you, or any sign of you,” She raised a single eye to Zuko, and within it he saw a slightly crazed sort of humour, “He passed by a month ago, heading south along the coast,” The woman tilted her head in thought, “I think he believed you were dead by that point. He just wanted closure by then.”

Zuko felt the floor sink beneath him, with only the chair keeping him from joining the floor as it sank, “...He thinks I’m dead?”

The woman gave a bitter laugh, “He didn’t say it, but I could tell ,” She leaned back, a controlled manic gleam entering her eyes as she spoke, “The Grand Lotus is not nearly as inscrutable as he likes to believe.”

Zuko’s eye twitched, and he stood from his chair - the world spiralled around him, yet he willed himself to remain standing - “I need to leave. ”

It went unsaid that she shouldn’t try to stop him.

The woman stared at him for a few moments before sighing, standing up herself, “I won’t stop you, child, even if I think you should rest a little while longer,” She reached into a pouch she carried, procuring a Pai-Sho tile similar to the one Uncle always had on him.

However, as Zuko begrudgingly accepted the tile, he noticed that the lotus design was coloured dark red on one side instead of the usual white colour he had seen it in, “...I didn’t know there was a red lotus tile.”

The woman flashed a smirk, “It’s a recent addition,” She closed his fist around the tile, her face growing more serious, “Take it with you, child. If you ever need aid, go to a Pai-Sho table and show them the White Lotus side,” Her eyes darkened a shade, “And if they don’t respond, flip the tile onto the red side.”

Zuko’s eye furrowed in confusion, “...Okay?” He pocketed the tile, turning towards the door - the storm had lessened to a mere trickle of rain - before glancing at her once more, “...Thank you again for… everything.”

Nǎi-Nai only gave a small smile in response, “Be careful, child. May Oma and Shu keep the path ahead steady.”

Zuko nodded and left the hut, heading south down the mountain.

As he walked, Zuko asked Vaatu, “Was any of that as weird to you as it was to me?”

‘To me, all you humans are confusing beings,’ Vaatu responded drily, ‘What matters more to me is that we now know where your kin has gone, so that you may follow.’

Zuko nodded to himself, finding the wisdom in Vaatu’s words.

Uncle had been here a month ago, heading south.

Surely Uncle couldn’t have gone too far in a single month, right?

Surely not.

Surely not.