Zuko stepped out on the ledge of his room window, the city sprawled out in front of him, washed in shades of white, reds, and blacks; the unnatural sight as familiar as the stale air.

It had been over two months since the world lost color and the sky went white, and Uncle Iroh had finally summoned him.

He’d just returned from his campaign on Omashu. The city fell rather quickly when the sky went dark. Zuko had been nervous about seizing the city with so few men. Only half of their forces survived the Avatar's outburst. The rigorous campaign he expected never happened, however. The mighty earth gates of Omashu came apart and their lanky, legendary king strode forth.

“You can have it,” he said with an off-kilter look in his eyes. “If you promise to take care of my people and rule them fairly, I promise you no soldier will resist as you march into Omashu.”

Zuko was stunned.

“Why?”

“Because there is something far more important that demands my attention.”

Zuko looked at the man, half-confused and paralyzed. Of all the things they’d planned for, he never imagined King Bumi would just give up and hand them Omashu.

“You should take the deal, Prince Zuko,” General Iroh advised. “Whatever has just happened has affected the King so much so he’s ready to give you his city and spare both sides a lot of blood. I see this as an opportunity that might never present itself again.”

Zuko reluctantly nodded and gave out the orders to his men, but he never took one eye off the curious King. After all, he was a famous trickster. Who knew if this was some elaborate plan by the King?

After some thought, he decided it’d be best to hold the Old man just in case, to explain to the Firelord's representative and as insurance.

As Zuko opened his mouth to give the order, the King winked at him.

“See you next time, Prince Zuko,” he said with a nasal cackle and vanished into the ground. When Zuko finally opened, it was slack with surprise and frustration.

Zuko came to the Heartland the following month when a Governor journeyed down to replace him. Before he left, he stressed the importance of keeping the people happy before he handed over power. The King was still in the wind, and spirits knew what he'd do if he found out Zuko refused to hold up his end of the bargain.

Zuko tried to enjoy the capital the first week he was back. He got back together with his old girlfriend, sight-saw as much as he could, and had the misfortune of meeting the so-called Avatar of Fire once.

He and the scarred Avatar had only briefly touched eyes, but the young Prince felt the weight of the world descend upon him. His heart was at his throat, and he would've collapsed if not for extensive training and battle-hardened instincts.

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When the Fire Avatar and his retinue or Dark Fire wandered far enough, he understood why his sister hated him. He was probably the only thing in the Fire Nation besides their father she was even remotely scared of.

Zuko wished they'd kill each other and make his life easier.

Zuko leaped out of his window and navigated through rooftops before making his way down to the streets, hidden in his favorite dark cloak. He came to a halt far in the rural area, near a shack belonging to some councilman. For a moment, he thought he was in the wrong place until the aroma of boiling tea reached his nose and he followed it into the shack.

Uncle Iroh was seated, swaddled in robes that hid his figure more than usual.

“Ah, Prince Zuko, you’re early.”

“What is this about, Uncle?,” Zuko said as he settled down and pulled down his hood. “you said to keep my distance unless it’s an emergency. I didn't think you'd be reaching out so soon?”

General Iroh poured him a cup of tea and offered it to him. Zuko looked at his Uncle, expectant, but the Older man only urged him to drink.

Zuko winced when he tasted the tea.

“How does your tea taste, Prince Zuko?”

“Terrible.”

“That is the freshest water I could find in the lower city. It has been purified with tinctures and is meticulously preserved, yet is barely drinkable or safe.”

“I didn’t know it had gotten this bad. The Water in the palace is fresher than this.”

“That’s because we have a complicated system of pipes and engines that process our water and keep it safe and fresh,” Iroh said. “The rest of the world isn’t as lucky. You must’ve heard the Avatar of Fire enjoyed a similar victory as you did in the North Pole, albeit with significant bloodshed and extenuating circumstances.”

Zuko repeated what he’d heard from his men. “The sky went dark, and the water bending stopped.”

Iroh nodded.

“The boy knew things he shouldn’t know and threw the world out of balance for a victory over the Phantoms and the North. If we don’t set things right, bad-tasting water will be the least of our worries.”

Zuko gulped. He’d heard of the disease sweeping through the Earth Kingdom territories already. He heard Ba Sing Se was a tomb now.

“How do we do that exactly?”

“We side with the Avatar and the Phantoms,” General Iroh said with a heavy sigh.

“Uncle-“

“I know Prince Zuko, I do not like the Phantoms either,” he raised a hand. “But desperate times call for desperate measures. This is not about the Fire Nation anymore. This affects the entire world, and as misguided as they are, the Phantoms and the Avatar want the same things we do. At least for now.”

What his uncle was asking of him was treason. His eyes surveyed the shack. If anyone ever found out, the consequences would be unspeakable. Moreover, Uncle Iroh was asking him to throw away everything he’d worked since he’d been exiled.

Even if they saved the world, there would be no going back. He would never be Firelord or be acknowledged by his Father. But what was familiar praise compared to the lives of millions? Still, he didn't look forward to working with those psychopaths. That boy Aaron made his skin crawl. Twice they’ve met and twice he’d tried to kill him.

Zuko drank more of the horrible-tasting tea and asked. “Even if we wanted to work with them, the Phantoms are called phantoms for a reason. We wouldn’t even know how to begin to look for them.”

“We prefer to come to you,” A voice in the shadows said, making Zuko nearly jump.

A tall broad-shouldered man stepped forward. Half of his face was covered in scars. He was dressed in dark fatigues, with a sour look on his face. Zuko hardly recognized the man though he’d seen the paintings of all known Phantoms.

He felt a chill creep down his spine. He was the demon of the battlefield, General Wang.

“It is good to see you again, Wang,” General Iroh nodded. “It's good to be on the same side for once.”

“I suppose it is,” he grunted. “Now that your nephew is on board, we can waste no more time. Samir leaves for the front today. I refuse to let him slip through my fingers again.”