5/1/123 — In the annals of metaphysical inquiry, the enigmatic concept of ephemeral entities, colloquially termed "spirits," remains an enduring enigma. As seekers of knowledge, our endeavors traverse the liminal spaces between belief and skepticism, endeavoring to decipher the essence of these ethereal beings. The crux of our inquiry lies in the fundamental question: do spirits truly exist? And if so, do they, akin to terrestrial organisms, partake in sustenance?

One conjecture posits that if spirits indeed exhibit traits akin to living entities, sustenance must be a requisite aspect of their existence. As organisms adhere to the primal imperative of nourishment for survival and growth, it stands to reason that spirits, if they dwell within the realm of existence, must likewise adhere to this fundamental tenet. Yet, the nature of their sustenance remains a nebulous realm, obscured by the veils of metaphysical speculation.

13/1/123 — This seeker further dares to venture into the realms of evolutionary theory, proposing that spirits, like their earthly counterparts, undergo adaptation and evolution to harmonize with their surroundings. If spirits indeed inhabit diverse environments, ranging from the ethereal to the corporeal, the contours of their evolution may defy conventional understanding.

The culmination of our inquiry beckons us to confront the profound query: how divergent can the manifestations of life be, when subjected to environments that transcend our mortal comprehension? In contemplating the boundaries of life, we are compelled to navigate through the labyrinthine corridors of conjecture, perpetually poised on the precipice of revelation and ambiguity.

~Excerpts from the Grand Scholar of Ba Sing Se’s Institute of Learning

Thorun:

Thorun’s leg suddenly buckled, and his heart jumped in his chest as two small monsters grabbed him. Now adrenaline-full and fully alert, Thorun's grip tightened around the handles, and he steadied his stance to regain his center of gravity.

He carefully avoided dropping the beef cabbage soup as Thorun’s two younger siblings clung to him like flying lemurs in a storm. “Food! Brother is making food!” a loud, almost high-pitched voice came from his left side.

“Feed us! Thorun, we’re starving.” a voice from the ‘lemur’ on his right leg exclaimed, followed by a slightly meeker, “Please, brother.”

Thorun’s heart softened at the sight of his younger siblings clinging to him, his arms outstretched and balancing the pot of soup. Wadling over a few steps to a table and setting down the pot, their laughter echoing through the kitchen, Thorun couldn’t help but smile at their antics. His affection for them shone brightly in his eyes.

"Alright, alright, you bloody little rascals," Thorun chuckled, gently prying Lunia and Aldorin off his legs. "You'll get your food soon enough." He spoke as he set each of them down in two of the eight wooden chairs around the table.

Lunia giggled mischievously, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "But we're hungry now, Thorun!" she protested, her stomach rumbling loudly in agreement.

Aldorin nodded in earnest agreement, his eyes wide with anticipation. "Yeah, we can't wait!" he exclaimed, his enthusiasm contagious.

Thorun shook his head fondly, marveling at their boundless energy. "Ha, fine then," he relented, ruffling their hair affectionately. "But you have to promise to behave yourselves while I finish cooking, okay?"

Lunia and Aldorin exchanged a conspiratorial glance before nodding eagerly in unison. "We promise, Thorun!" they chorused, their grins widening into matching smiles.

With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Thorun turned back to the stove, grabbing five eggs and making his way over to the cabinets to grab more bowls and utensils and cracking the eggs into the boiling broth. Arriving back at the table and setting out the dinnerware, fighting off stray hands, he served Lunia and Aldorin their lunch before serving out his own.

At nearly seventeen, Thorun resembled his father—strong, tall, and abled. Soon-to-be a man and help out with the Family, making lunch for two children, eleven-year-olds and eight-year-olds, was a small task and no sweat off his back.

Thorun settled into his wooden chair at the table with his bowl now in front of him. The savory aroma of the beef cabbage soup filled the air, and steam rose from the bowls before them like wisps of magic. Before Thorun ate, he offered a silent prayer of thanks to the spirits for the meal before them, his heart brimming with gratitude for the simple joys of food.

“Spirits watch us,” Thorun said. “Spirits watch us,” echoed Aldorin and Lunia. “May the moon shape our fates.” Thorun chorused, again echoed right after by his siblings.

With a satisfied sigh, Thorun dipped his spoon into the steaming soup, savoring the rich flavors that danced across his tongue. The tender chunks of beef and hearty cabbage melted in his mouth, warming him from the inside out. His siblings Lunia and Aldorin followed his example eagerly, getting broth all over their faces and on the table.

Thorun ate and watched his younger siblings, Aldorin and Lunia, eagerly slurping the warm soup he had prepared as he thought through the rest of the day. He had prepared himself with his family's ancient traditions, drawing upon their Andarnir heritage. Every early morning, every early night. Prayer and meditation.

As Thorun continued eating in silence, he remembered his mother's history lessons. Less than two dozen years ago, the Andarnir people, his people, were discovered from the eastern voyages that had aimed to map the islands off the Earth Kingdom’s Eastern coast. And thus discovering the Andarnir.

As a newly discovered people with surprising sophistication, the Andarnir captured the attention of each kingdom in their own unique way. Their mystical lore and reverence for spirits sparked intrigue and fascination among scholars and religious monks from Ba Sing Se. Drawing them to the Isles to prove or disprove their beliefs. Then, the lords hailing from the nation of fire, astride their black ships of steel, were drawn to their Isles and the Andarnir people. Hoping the myths and rumors of powers and bargains with the Spirits would reignite their old claims of power.

Later, only after the Andarnir fought off the lords of the flames did tribes from the North come to offer aid. But they offered only subservience and cowardice and disguised it as peace, hoping that being fellow waterbenders would sell their lies and blasphemy and, as such, were rightfully scorned. Resulting in more rumers and further fanning the stories about the Andarnir's ability to commune with the otherworldly.

And finally came the Goddmashin. Greed and vanity later drew them to the Andas Isles, hoping to find precious metals or other such substances of value, yet fortunately for the Andarnir, they found nothing deemed of worth. Henceforth, leaving and never returning to the Andas Isles.

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As they ate, Thorun’s silence drew out Aldorin's inquisitive nature, which happened to get the better of him quite often. "Thorun," he asked between spoonfuls of soup, "do you think the spirits are watching us right now?"

Thorun smiled warmly at his younger brother's question. "Yes, Aldorin," he replied, his voice soft but firm. "I believe they are always watching us, guiding us, and often even with us, even when we cannot see them."

Each of the nations and tribes had its own beliefs about the spirits, and the Andarnir were no different. However, the spirits never answered the earth kings nor the fire lords. Even the water tribe leaders were met with silence. Their baseless appeals were ignored and useless, and their legends of Yue the moon spirit were just that—legends.

But not the Andarnir. Their prayers and insights into the realm's ephemeral were not baseless. While their technology was well behind the modern world, their knowledge of the spirits cast a pall over modern institutions.

Lunia, her eyes wide with wonder, piped up with a question of her own. "But what about the spirits in the Shadow, Thorun? Are they different from the ones in the Penumbra?"

Thorun nodded thoughtfully, his mind drifting to the teachings of their parents and the elders of their village on Andas. "Yes, Lunia," he answered, his voice tinged with reverence. "The spirits in the Penumbra are closer to our world, more relatable to us mortals. Think as if our world is a sheet of stone. Parts chipped, others cracked, each inch with its own marks and unique textures. The Penumbra is like a mirror, hovering above our world so close that our world and its essences reflect through to the workings of the Penumbra and the spirits that dwell there. That is why the Penumbra spirits are similar enough to our realm that we can still comprehend them. These are the spirits of the land, the stream, and the sky, and they can hold great wisdom and power."

Continuing on with his explanation, Lunia and Aldorin silent with rapt attention, “But the Shadow is different. There, our mortal realm barely flickers through. Much beyond the Penumbra. Like a faint shadow flickering against a wall, our world barely affects the Shadow. And so the rest of what makes up the realms in the Shadow are... strange. And things that dwell there become alien and unnatural.”

“So are there snow bunnies in the Penumbra,” Lunia more of demanded than asked.

“No, it would be very unlikely for there to be snow bunnies in the Penumbra, Lunia.” Thorun sighed in reply. More in amusement than anything.

“The Penumbra and the entities that call it home will represent concepts and essences rather than actual things. You might get a spirit of the forest, or of a stream, maybe even the storm. These kinds of spirits make up most of what dwells in the Penumbra. But they wouldn’t look like a forest, a stream, or a storm. So while the spirits often represent a thing, that doesn’t mean they are that thing.”

“Does it have to be physical things, Thorun?” Aldorin cut in and asked. He had always been the more curious one of the family. At twelve years old, he would ask and ask questions until it felt like your ears were numb to hearing.

However, Thorun did reply—it was a really good question after all—“No, in fact, spirits can represent the more esoteric. Mother once told me of a wandering justice spirit. She had delved far into the Astral, where she came across what looked like a great eye that shone with dark red light, surrounded by eight wings made of silvery metal. Why it took that form, I have no idea, and Mother said she avoided it immediately. For spirits in the Penumbra, most forms they do take are hard to comprehend, but they are just barely recognizable, and we can understand them to a degree.”

“Does that mean spirits don’t take on the form of animals?” Adornin followed up.

“Rarely. Animals don’t often represent much. And even the rare few are only in the Penumbra, often looking like a fusion of multiple things, animals or no.”

“So no snow bunnies?” Lunia sadly questioned.

“So no snow bunnies,” Thorun affirmed, giving Lunia a comforting smile.

“And the Deep, brother?” chimed Aldorin. “What is in the—”

“We do not speak of the Deep,” Thorun interjected, his tone firm and resolute. He cut off his brother and stopped the room from dimming further in darkness and bringing an awkward pause to the table.

Just then, the door creaked open, and their father, Eldorin, stepped inside, his presence commanding attention. Thorun took after his father, with dirty blonde hair and dark brown eyes.

As Eldorin of the Andarnir, Thoruns father was also a leader amongst their people, his title signifying his role as a solver of difficulties, the ‘one who guides the spirits’ toward resolution. His meeting with the politician last night stirred much talk among the Family, as this was the fourth politician he spoke to this month. Thorun knew he had to learn all he could if he would take his place as his eldest son and heir.

"Eldorin," Thorun greeted, rising from his seat to embrace his father. "How was your meeting?"

Eldorin's expression tense as he exchanged a look with Thorun. "Confusing, son," he replied, his voice tinged with concern. "It seems the balance between the realms is shifting; fellow waterbenders in bed with bloodbenders, and the spirits grow restless. Yet the politician, Paunn’itt, offers peace and friendship."

“Did he say nothing of use, father?” Thorun asked, his siblings attentive and quiet, hoping for more family gossip to spread.

“Nothing moreso than the last. Promises of hope and uncertain help. However, Paunn’itt felt earnest in his desires, and I found them to be rooted in friendship.” Eldorin said, almost wistfully.

“He will offer help if it suits him. And I believe helping the Andarnir presently suits him well. But the stench he gave was almost worse than the bloodbender he met with before we spoke.”

“So we shall partner with the Northern Tribes?” Thorun asked with a hint of disdain lacing his tone.

“We may very well. I know differences between our two peoples have caused friction to subsist, but I fear they are the only ones who could aid us. We know little of the cities of metal. We need those who can influence the city.” stated Eldorin; almost in resignation, he continued, “We need politicians and people like Paunn’itt.”

“But the bloodbenders, father, would we really work with them? I doubt, highly, that the bionovas would honor our traditions.” Thorun queried.

The one thing Thorun could agree with the Northern Tribes on was their contempt toward the art of bloodbending. He, too, hated it. In fact, most of the Andarnir saw it as a grievous sin. Whilst the water tribes saw it as a wretched use of the arts, a perversion of healing, his people knew bloodbending led down a much darker path.

A common misconception the modern world had in regard to the ephemeral was that all spirits were ancient. Some were, definitely so, of that Thorun agreed wholeheartedly. But the spirit realms were vast, vaster than the mortal realm, and new spirits were birthed every day. New Penumbra spirits often took a likeness to aspects from the world of mortals. Many atimes if enough waterbenders, or any benders of an individual element, got together in a natural environment, the Penumbra would birth new spirits of the stream, lakes, storms, or sometimes even the sea. These were the spirits to be communed with. Who would share wisdom. And the peace brought on by the Avatar ought to balance not just the nations but the Penumbra as well.

However, even grown up to near manhood, Thorun shuddered at the thought of what a blood spirit would be like. Could it be bargained with? Could it even be understood? A pang of fear shot through Thorun’s stomach, ideas of a second bowl of soup forgotten at the thought of what a spirit of the blood’s wrath could render onto mortals.

Changing the subject and bringing Thorun’s mind back from dark thoughts, Eldorin asked, “I see mischief and mayhem here,” Father’s cute nicknames for Lunia and Aldorin. “But where are your other two sisters, Thorun?”

In reply, Thorun answered, “Sylva is out on the Aquinampas, and Astra, I believe, is with Mother.”

“Go check on them, Thorun.” His father said, turning a playful smile to his siblings at the table. “I’ll watch over these two troublemakers.” Earning himself a “hey!” from both.

“As you say,” Thorun replied, suspecting his father was trying to instill good habits and skills. He dipped his head in respect to his Eldorin before walking out of the room. As Thorun stepped out of the house and turned down towards the pier, knowing his oldest sister was out amongst the sea fishing, Thorun ruminated over his future.

One day, Thorun would be the tribe's ‘Eldorin,’ and he, too, would be the ‘one who guided the spirits’. For if one could show the spirits the way, then certainly they could show mortals the way, too.

I’ll be ready, Thorun thought. An Eldorin in these times would be harder than ever to lead his people. For this new world had disturbed the Shadow, shattered pieces of the Penumbra, and possibly drew the attention to the entities that lurked in the Deep. And if Thorun could smell the ‘stench’ of the Cities, then surely the Deep could. For the Deep was ever watchful and always Hungry, and there were worse things out there than newborn blood spirits.