Embers and Bones

Prologue

On a frigid winter’s eve, a new moon gazed down upon an open-roofed pavilion, a roaring flame all but drowning out the stars above. Though the fire would not usually be lit so early, Kiaki was never one to stick so rigidly to tradition—especially on such a cold night; age had dimmed his inner fire, and he desired nothing more than to be inside, sitting by a calm hearth, sipping a nice warm cup of tea…and yet, here he was. Much like tradition, punctuality had never been Kiaki’s prerogative, and he was much more used to arriving whenever he pleased—most of the time after a pleasant stroll—but something within had urged him on, to such an extent that he was currently the only one standing by the crackling bonfire: deep in the marrow of his bones (bitten by the cold as they were), he felt that something was different this time, some intangible intuition burning away his usual indifference, stoking his heart to the point of excitement—something that he had long since thought he would never truly experience again. Had he still been a youth, he may have been utterly unable to keep himself from casting the bones alone, but his age-tempered logic held him back; he had waited decades for a night like this, and he would wait all the way to dawn if that was what it took.

Carefully measured footsteps drew Kiaki out of his thoughts, followed by a low, gravelly voice, “What a shock to see you of all people here so soon. I had expected you to delay the rite yet again…are you sure you’re not unwell, breaking your seven-year streak?”

“Far from it; I have a good feeling about this night,” Kiaki glanced up at the faint stars, “I expect we shall learn much. But I question the choice of location—couldn’t we have stayed inside the temple?”

His question was met at first with a chuckle, the elderly sage stroking his long white beard, “I hardly want to be out here either, even with my warmest robes, but it was the Fire Lord’s suggestion. She has always been a canny one, and I hope the change in venue will bring good news this time.”

“We can only hope. As I always say, positivity never does any harm…rarely helps, but neither does being miserable.”

“You should temper your expectations,” a third voice joined the conversation, its owner appearing as if from nowhere, “I still believe it shall be futile—we have had no results every year for over two decades, and I fail to see the purpose in wasting our time; why should this duty even fall to us when it's clearly pointless?”

The elder shook his head, “We all know that this duty is ours because all others have long since given up on it; the Earth Kingdom is in crisis, the Air Nomads are nothing if not passive, and I doubt the Water Tribes even want the cycle to have continued in the first place. If we give up on this most sacred task of ours, what will remain of the Fire Sages, hm?”

“Foolish hope will get us nowhere. We have other responsibilities, and we must adapt to this new era: no longer shall the world revolve around the Avatar, whether you accept it or not.”

“That remains to be seen,” Kiaki smiled wryly, “and I relish witnessing you proven wrong. The other two will soon arrive and the bones shall be cast, whether you accept it or not.”

Before the snappy sage had a chance to respond, the last of the group began to crest the hill; the time had come, and the rite was to be carried out in silence. Kiaki had prepared the bones shortly after he arrived, and now each sage collected one from the ceremonial dish; he ran his fingers over the inscriptions, each carving in the dragon bone (granted to the sages by the original firebenders themselves) carrying a wish within, much like the man himself. The anticipation in Kiaki’s chest was coming to a boil just as a chill struck through the pavilion, as if nature itself knew a great change was around the corner. In synchronised motion, five bones of varying size and shape were sent right into the burning pit’s heart—the sharp cracking was instant, as was the intense plume of flame: a wave of heat crashing outwards as the fire shot upwards, threatening to ignite the pavilion itself. In a single motion Kiaki extinguished the blaze, his eyes taking a moment to adjust to the newfound darkness; the only light now was from the heavens…and the small flames burning on the interior edges of the wooden roof. All eyes focussed on the cracks in the bones—disregarding the smouldering fires above—gazing in disbelief at the undeniable message held across the five off-white objects, each one linking in tandem to another. Kiaki’s excitement exploded all over again, his calm demeanor utterly destroyed as if the fifty years since his youth had never happened in his first place.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

After a couple of minutes, the youngest of the sages was first to break the silence, “But what could this possibly mean?”

“Don’t let incredulity cloud your mind,” the elderly great sage’s response came after a short pause, his tone slow and measured, “we can all tell very well what this means. The Fire Lord must be informed at once: the cycle did not end as we had feared.”

“A new era is upon us,” Kiaki spoke as if the voice was not his own, “the Avatar will master the elements once again, and it is imperative we find them; the solstice will soon be upon us, and there is no better opportunity to seize the moment.”

For a few minutes longer the discussion continued, until the sages began to scatter, prepared to carry out the duties they had long since consigned themselves never to worry about again. Only two remained, standing in silent harmony—despite being the most sceptical of the order, Kiaki’s old friend was not one to deny the evidence in front of him.

“Well, it seems I have been proven wrong indeed,” the shorter man placed a hand on Kiaki’s shoulder, “I look forward to the days ahead…but how could we not have known the Avatar was reborn years ago? And so close, for so long…”

“The clouds of ambiguity still gather around us; I expect they won’t fade away for quite some time. We must be careful in our pursuit of the truth, lest we taint our minds with preconceived notions.”

“That we must.”

Just as his friend turned, leaving him to gather his thoughts alone, a splintering sound resonated out from within the flame pit: a new crack had formed in one of the bones, a deep dark chasm with no end in sight. For the first time in years, fear grew within Kiaki’s chest. The other sage spun to face the noise, the shock in his eyes redoubling once he saw the fissure.

“How can that be!? Such a fate, for one so young…there must be some kind of mistake!”

By the time the last embers had fallen from the roof, the anxiety within Kiaki had completely overtaken his prior excitement, his positivity all but drained, “There is no mistake; the Avatar’s path will not be an easy one.”

“But there is hope, is there not? The Avatar has lived a thousand lifetimes, surely it can’t be as bad as it seems? There must have been a similar incident in the past, some event to be learned from. If we search the histories-”

“Unfortunately, it would seem that is not the case,” a defeatist laugh escaped Kiaki’s mouth, “even if we give all the help we can, it will not be enough. Some things simply can not be avoided.”

A deep sigh of resignation followed, the visible breath quickly dissipating, “And so it must instead be overcome.”

“I only hope it can be. There is but one thing I can say for certain, and it is that I pity the Avatar.”

“What will we tell the other sages? What will we tell the Fire Lord?”

Kiaki shook his head, “We can not conceal this, but hope will do good for those who have not seen the omen themselves. So there is only one thing we can tell them: the years ahead will be dark.”