Sokka keeps a steady eye on the water.
"Come on, weren't you the master fisherman?" says his sister teasingly.
"Katara, please, if you would just let me do my thing and keep rowing it would be really helpful. Maybe the fish got scared away from your splashing around with that waterbending thing of yours", he replies.
Katara mutters and decides to stop rowing, without noticing the speed of the canoe picking up without her aid.
"Hey, good job! I'm sure we'll find some school any moment now" Sokka says excitedly.
"I'm not...." Katara begins before getting interrupted by the canoe getting fiercely tugged. The siblings both grip tight to the edges while being helplessly dragged along by a strong stream of water that seemingly appeared out of nowhere, not noticing that the canoe perfectly dodges around sheets of ice, like being guided by an invisible hand.
The canoe eventually comes to an abrupt stop, hitting a large mass of ice, throwing them both overboard and onto the ice.
Sokka groaned, his body aching from the impact. He pushed himself up, shaking the snow from his face. "Katara?" he called out, his voice echoing across the frozen landscape. "Katara, are you okay?"
A soft moan answered him, and he spotted his sister a few feet away, slowly sitting up. "I'm fine," she said, wincing as she rubbed her shoulder. "What happened? It felt like something just... pulled us here."
Sokka frowned, looking around at the unfamiliar terrain. The ice was jagged and uneven, rising up in towering spires that glittered in the pale sunlight. "I don't know," he said, unease creeping into his voice. "But we should get back to the canoe and head home. This place feels... off."
But Katara wasn't listening. She had gotten to her feet and was staring intently at the ice wall before them. "Sokka," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Look."
Sokka followed her gaze, squinting against the glare of the ice. At first, he saw nothing but the endless expanse of white. But then, as his eyes adjusted, he noticed something strange. There were colors beneath the surface of the ice - swirls of yellow and orange that seemed to pulse with an otherworldly light.
"What is that?" he breathed, taking a step closer. The colors were unlike anything he had ever seen in the natural world. They seemed to move and shift, as if alive.
Katara moved forward as if in a trance, her hand outstretched. "There's something in there," she said, her voice trembling with a mix of awe and fear. "Something... someone."
Sokka's heart pounded in his chest as he followed his sister's lead. As they drew closer, the colors beneath the ice grew more distinct. And then, with a jolt of shock, he realized what he was seeing. The outline of a person, curled in on itself, suspended in the heart of the glacier.
"Katara," he said, his voice hoarse. "We need to get out of here. This isn't natural. It's... it's..."
Katara, usually the voice of reason, doesn't answer. Instead, she grabs his mace, a determined look burning in her eyes. "We have to get it out," she says, her voice fierce.
Before he can protest, she raises the mace and brings it down with a sickening crack. The ice splinters and groans, the fracture widening. Again and again, she strikes, fueled by desperation or some unknown force Sokka can't comprehend. Finally, with a deafening boom, a large chunk of ice gives way, revealing the impossible sight beneath.
When the snow cloud settles, the two teenagers finds a young boy dressed in a robe of yellow and orange, with blue arrow markings on his head and hands. Their eyes turn to reveal a large furry beast with six legs accompanying the boy, with a similar arrow marking on its forehead.
Sokka stammers. "I... I’ve seen this symbol somewhere. I think he's an Airbender, I read about them in father's books".
"An Airbender?" Katara replies, her voice disbelieving.
"Yeah, they... haven't existed ever since the Avatar disappeared before the war." He glances at the enormous six-legged creature, unease coiling in his gut. "And what in the spirits is that thing?"
They watch in silence at the young Airbender and his mount in silence. The boy’s skin is pale white, showing no signs of life.
"He must have been frozen for a very long time..." says Sokka.
"He was" says a voice.
Sokka and Katara look at each other. "Was that you?" they demand in unison.
"No, it was me" says the voice again, as if amused by their panic.
Sokka and Katara spun around frantically, weapons raised. The ice shimmered, and then, materializing as if from thin air, was a creature formed of swirling light and shifting colors.
"Easy now," said the creature, its voice echoing yet somehow soothing. "I am Raava, the spirit of light and peace. For countless years, I have walked beside the Avatar, reborn through each cycle. I watched as the light of life disappeared in Aang..."
A wave of profound sadness washes over them. Sokka lowers his mace, a mix of confusion and awe crossing his features. "You watched? You mean...he's...the Avatar was a child?" He couldn't shake the image of this young, lifeless boy and the concept of such a powerful being.
"Yes." Raava's light pulsed sadly. "But the cycle is broken. There should be a new Avatar alive by now. This world needs balance more than ever."
Katara's grip tightens on Sokka's mace. "What do you mean, a new Avatar? There...there isn't anyone else. Airbenders are gone!"
Raava seems to study them, her light flickering. "Perhaps...perhaps not. The energy of the Avatar cannot be destroyed. The spirit of balance persists. I sense a stirring within one of you..." Her shifting gaze lands on Sokka, and he feels a disorienting tingle. "Tell me, boy, what limits do you place upon your own potential?"
Sokka blinks. "I...I don't understand." He glances at Katara, a flicker of desperation in his eyes. "Limits? What are you talking about?"
"The world is not as rigid as you have been taught," Raava continues, her voice a soft hum. "Change, adaptation...these are the currents a warrior must navigate, not simply the force of his spear or the strategy of his mind."
"But I'm not…" Sokka begins, a protest forming on his lips, but the words catch in his throat. Could this spirit be implying… no, it is impossible. Isn’t it?
A flicker that could have been amusement touches Raava. "Indeed, this is highly unusual. Yet chaos breeds opportunity. Tell me, boy with the warrior's heart, do you believe in the impossible?
"Me? No, no way! You...you must be wrong," Sokka sputters, his voice hitching higher than he likes. "Spirits are all about tradition and stuff! B-besides, I'm not the Avatar type. Look at me!" He gestures vaguely at himself, suddenly feeling very self-conscious in Raava's radiant presence.
Katara, however, steps forward, a spark in her eyes that Sokka hasn't seen in a long time. "But there isn't anyone else...and the world is falling apart..." Her voice trails off, then firms. "How do we know it's him and not... not me?"
Raava's light pulses, casting dancing shadows on the ice. "The spirit of the Avatar seeks those who embody its opposing yet complementary forces. Katara, you are driven by passion and the fierce will to protect. Yet, it is your brother whose spirit contains a bedrock of logic, a hunger for understanding beyond what is simply given to him."
Sokka scowls. Understanding? All he's ever understood is that he has to train, to protect, to keep Katara safe because no one else will. And now...this? "I don't want this!" he bursts out, a wave of frustration and a deep-buried fear washing over him. "I'm no bender, no spirit warrior...I'm just Sokka!"
Katara shoots him a look he can't quite decipher. A pang of something like hurt and jealousy twists in his gut – isn't he always the one left behind while she gets to play with those water powers of hers? There's something tight in her expression he hasn't seen before.
Raava's shimmering form seems to soften. "Change is rarely a matter of desire, young warrior. But every choice, no matter how grand or small, creates ripples. What will you choose?"
The silence stretches, heavy and cold. Sokka steals a glance at his sister, her face a mask. Is that hope he sees there? Disappointment? Or maybe a flicker of fear he mirrors in himself. His eyes fall on the frozen boy - a symbol of both a vanished world and a potential new one. This wasn't just some fantastical destiny...this was about survival. Theirs, maybe even the world's.
A sigh escapes him, more like a groan than a breath. "Fine," he mutters, hefting his mace. "But no promises about me actually becoming anything, got it?" he says to Raava, a defiant edge in his voice. "Let's get this over with. Maybe if I smack that frozen guy, he'll wake up and yell at you for being wrong." It's a weak attempt at humor, but it masks the trembling in his hands.
His mind races. Katara's always been the special one, the one touched by magic while he learned knots and sharpened spears. Yet, here he is, about to do something so utterly impossible it makes his head spin. Would she resent him for this? Or would this unknown power, this spirit of balance, drive them further apart when all he's ever wanted was to protect her?
Raava offers no more explanation, her shimmering form a beacon in the icy gloom. He glances back at Katara. Her expression stays unreadable, but he sees the way her fingers tighten on the handle of his own weapon. It's more than the mace she holds - it's a shared history, a connection forged in hardship and laughter. Can that connection survive whatever this becomes?
He steps towards the frozen figure, the enormity of this potential sacrifice hitting him with full force. He's Sokka, the strategist, the hunter...not some mystical hero reborn from legend. He's meant to plot routes on worn maps, not defy the laws of nature. Yet, the world as he knows it is crumbling. Maybe the old rules don't apply anymore.
With a growl of frustration, he lifts the mace. It's not aimed at the Airbender, but at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. There has to be another way, a solution he's missing, a plan he can formulate. But Raava, for all her talk of potential, offers no such blueprint. Just an impossible choice and a promise of change he doesn't want, can't begin to comprehend.
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
He's Sokka, and maybe...just maybe...he'll figure out the rest as he goes along, the same way he always does.
The touch of Raava's light is a shock, not an unpleasant one, but like a surge of energy coursing through his veins. It prickles and warms, settling somewhere deep inside him. His vision blurs, and for a disorienting moment, Raava's radiance is all he sees. Then, a kaleidoscope of images flickers before his eyes: Aang, laughing and riding an air scooter; a warrior in earthbender armor, stance unyielding; a woman of the Fire Nation, flames swirling but precise, and a waterbender commanding an enormous wave on a troubled sea. His head throbs, and then it stops.
He blinks open his eyes. They feel...sharper. Katara is staring at him, her expression a mix of awe and lingering terror. "Sokka," she breathes, "your eyes...they glowed."
He scrambles to his feet, a sense of urgency pushing away the disorientation. "We need to get back," he says, his voice steadier than he feels. "Before someone else comes."
There's no more talk of Aang or Raava. They quickly bundle the Air Nomad boy's body, wrapping it in furs to obscure the telltale robes. The canoe ride home is a tense quiet. The few villagers they pass assume it's a seal or a strange catch from their expedition, sparing them only curious glances. Sokka looks around him to be sure no one is watching, and eventually snaps his fingers, creating a tiny flame at his fingertips that quickly goes out. "Sokka, not here!" Katara scream-whispers to him. Sokka silently marvels at the brief sight of flame.
As Sokka and Katara navigated their canoe through the icy waters, a sense of unease settled over them. The weight of their discovery and the implications of Sokka's newfound identity hung heavy in the air. Little did they know, miles away, another soul was grappling with the threads of destiny.
Prince Zuko stood at the helm of his ship, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The icy expanse of the South Pole stretched out before him, an endless sea of white. Beside him, his uncle Iroh sipped tea, his expression thoughtful.
"Uncle," Zuko began, his voice tight with tension, "for weeks now, my meditations have been haunted by visions of this place. The sages spoke of a great change, a shift in the balance of the world. I know it sounds absurd, but I can't shake the feeling that the answers I seek lie hidden in this frozen wasteland."
Iroh hummed, taking another sip of his tea. "Nephew," he said, his voice gentle, "the spirits often speak in riddles and metaphors. It is wise to listen to their guidance, but we must also be cautious not to chase shadows."
Zuko's jaw clenched, a flicker of frustration crossing his face. "I know, Uncle. But this feels different. The signs are too clear to ignore. The strange dreams, the whisperings of the sages... even the fire seems to bend differently here, as if the very elements are trying to tell me something."
Iroh placed a hand on Zuko's shoulder, his eyes full of understanding. "Zuko, your determination is admirable, but remember, the path to truth is often winding and uncertain. Do not let your desire for answers blind you to the journey itself. If the spirits have indeed led you here, trust that the revelation will come in its own time."
Zuko nodded, his expression still troubled. "I just can't help but feel that I'm close, Uncle. That the key to everything I've been searching for is waiting for me in this desolate place."
Iroh smiled softly. "Then we shall face whatever comes together, Nephew. But promise me this: if the answers you seek do not reveal themselves, do not let disappointment consume you. The spirits work in mysterious ways, and sometimes, the greatest lessons are found in the most unexpected places."
Zuko turned back to the horizon, his heart heavy with anticipation and uncertainty. As the ship glided through the icy waters, he couldn't shake the feeling that his destiny was waiting for him on the frozen shores of the South Pole.
Once back in their hut, Sokka watches Katara carefully lay the hidden body on a spare bed. "What do we say?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper.
A flicker of mischief enters Katara's eyes, always quick to navigate sticky situations. "We found him floating...driftwood," she begins, "Maybe the spirits of the sea guided us to him..." Her voice trails off. She can lie, but the image of Aang's pale face and the weight of Raava's light upon Sokka make the words feel hollow.
When their father returns, weary from his day, she takes a steadying breath. "Dad, we found something…” her voice falters for a moment, “Someone...out by the ice." She gives Sokka a pleading look.
Their father's weathered face creases – not in disbelief, but a weary mix of worry and wariness. He follows them inside. Taking in the figure lying on the bed, he reaches out to pull back the coverings. The moment he does, his eyes widen.
"An Air Nomad?" he gasps, "But that's…that's impossible…"
Their father stares at the body of the Air Nomad boy, a flicker of something like recognition crossing his usually stoic face. "The tattoos…" he murmurs, running a calloused hand over the faded blue arrow, "…stories my grandmother told, a lifetime ago. But that's...impossible."
With a glance at Sokka, he reaches forward and gently pulls the furs back, revealing the full extent of the boy's traditional robes. "He looks so peaceful..." he said quietly. "Did a storm, perhaps...?" His voice trails off, a mix of sorrow and confusion swirling in his eyes.
Sokka swallows hard. This wasn't the way he'd ever imagined revealing his new, impossible abilities. "Dad," he begins, his voice hoarse, "When we found him...something happened. I know it sounds crazy, but…"
With trembling hands, he attempts to conjure a spark, a flame, anything. For a tense moment, nothing happens. Then, a feeble flicker of fire sparked at his fingertips, sputtering and vanishing almost instantly.
His father gapes, a storm of emotions crossing his face – awe, pride, and undeniable fear. "Sokka," he whispered, "What have the spirits brought to our doorstep?"
Before the weight of those words could truly settle, they notice uneasy voices talking outside the hut. Then, a sharp knock echoes through the hut. Sokka's heart hammers against his ribs.
"Stay here, cover him up quickly," their father commands, his voice low and urgent. He moves towards the door, his body tense as he cracks it open.
A hush falls over the hut. Then a voice cuts through the tense silence, harsh and unfamiliar. "Chieftain of the Southern water tribe I assume. I'm Zuko, prince of the fire nation. May I come in?"
The blood drains from Sokka's face. His gaze locked with Katara's as they both realize the same terrifying truth – even hidden in this remote corner of the world, trouble had found them.
In the doorway stands a figure clad in Fire Nation armor, a jagged scar cutting a path across his face.
Sokka's heart pounds like a war drum. Zuko. The Fire Nation prince, infamous in the Southern Water Tribe for his relentless pursuit of…something. Legends whispered of a quest, a fire burning within him, but that was all. Why is he here, at their remote outpost?
Their father steps back, a flicker of wariness in his eyes. "Prince Zuko," he acknowledges, his voice measured. "To what do we owe this unforeseen honor?"
"Rumors have reached me of…" Zuko stepped closer, his gaze sweeping the hut before alighting on their father. "...of unusual…occurrences in your village. Something…out of the ordinary."
Their father's weathered face remains stoic. "Our village is remote, Prince Zuko. We fish, we hunt. What interest could the mighty Fire Nation have in our humble existence?"
Zuko's eyes narrowed. "My interests lie in the balance of things, chieftain. In disturbances…oddities that might hint at something greater." He let out a measured breath. "The South has long been shrouded in silence, untouched by the…changes the world has endured. But even here, echoes of the past might linger."
Sokka and Katara exchange a terrified glance. Their secret, the air nomad, was somehow already a point of interest to this outsider. Zuko's gaze seems to linger on Sokka for a moment too long, studying without overt accusation.
"Tell me, chieftain," Zuko's voice holds a subtle edge, "have the spirits blessed your village with anything...extraordinary?"
Their father holds Zuko's gaze for a long, tense moment. A flicker of calculation dances in his eyes, weighing the unknown against the tangible threat standing in his doorway. Finally, he turns his gaze towards Sokka and Katara, a silent decision passing between them.
"Prince Zuko," he begins, his voice surprisingly steady. "Your…interest in our remote corner of the world is a curiosity my people find unsettling. However, if truth is what you seek, there is indeed something we have found that defies all we know."
With a nod to his children, he steps aside. Sokka and Katara, hearts pounding, approach the shrouded form of the Air Nomad. With trembling hands, they pull back the furs, revealing the boy's peaceful face and distinctive tattoos.
Zuko's eyes widens fractionally, a flash of something like triumph momentarily breaking through his mask of impassivity. "An Air Nomad..." he murmurs, stepping closer to examine the body. "Impossible...and yet..."
Their father watches carefully, the smallest hint of desperation in his voice. "This is what we have found. A ghost of the past, washed ashore. We...we do not comprehend what this means for the world."
Zuko circled the body, his expression unreadable. After a moment that felt like an eternity, he looks back up at their father. "This...this changes things," he says slowly, his voice thoughtful. "You understand my nation has long been searching for something lost, something vital to the balance of the world itself."
A spark of hope flickers in their father's eyes. Could this be it? Could this unexpected nightmare turn into the opportunity to barter for safety, for Zuko to take this burden away from their small village?
"And now...here…" Zuko gestures towards the Air Nomad boy. "Perhaps, finally, there is a trail to follow."
Zuko crouches down, his fingers trailing along the faded arrow marking the Air Nomad's head. "Where did he come from," he asks, his voice low. "How did a lone Air Nomad end up on your shores?"
A flicker of unease crossed their father's face. "Caught in the ice," he said, choosing his words carefully. "The sea has its mysteries. Perhaps sent by the spirits themselves…"
Zuko rises, his gaze sweeping the room, finally landing on Sokka. "There is a strangeness in the air here," he muses, a hint of suspicion underlying his words. "Tell me, boy, what were you doing out in the ice when you discovered this…relic?"
Sokka's heart hammers against his ribs. He swallows, desperately trying to appear the picture of a frightened, but innocent villager. "I…we were fishing, my sister and I. We saw… something caught in the ice..." he stammers.
"And then?" Zuko presses, stepping closer. "How did you free him? The ice in this region can be treacherous."
Before Sokka can fumble for an answer, his father cuts in, his voice sharp. "My children are young, Prince Zuko. They were startled by the find, curious as any would be. It was I who ventured out to investigate further."
Zuko studies them both for a long moment, then nods slowly. "Very well," he finally relented, a touch of that calculating glint returning to his eyes. "While my purpose here may lie with this..." he gestured back to the body, "I understand your village is vulnerable. Isolated."
With a subtle shift, the conversation steers into dangerous territory. Their father, ever the protector, tenses his stance. "We survive," he said simply.
Zuko lets out a humorless laugh. "Survival is not living, chieftain. Consider this: the Fire Nation could offer protection. Resources. In exchange…" he pauses, his eyes glinting in the firelight, "…for your cooperation."
Hope and fear battles within Sokka. Could this be a way out? Or were they merely exchanging one threat for another?
Their father meet Zuko's gaze, a lifetime of survival instincts telling him that easy solutions are rarely what they seem. "Protection," he echoed, his voice rough. "From what? What threat does the mighty Fire Nation perceive from a village of ice and snow?"
Zuko seems to consider the question before answering. "Change is coming, chieftain. The world is on the cusp…and even remote corners will be swept up by the tides. It is not a specific enemy you must fear, but the chaos that follows imbalance."
That gives their father pause. His eyes flicker briefly to Sokka and Katara. Was this a twisted echo of what they had whispered in the hut only moments before? A world unbalanced, a desperate search for answers?
"My people are strong, resourceful," their father counters, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Perhaps your offer is generous, Prince Zuko, but generosity can be...a misleading weapon."
For a tense moment, Sokka thinks he sees respect flicker in Zuko's eyes. Then the Fire Nation prince speaks again, his voice a touch softer. "My father, the Fire Lord, has ambitions. But within those ambitions, there is a vision of order. It is an order you have no cause to fear…if you do not defy it."
A loaded statement, hanging heavy in the air. Their father streaks his beard thoughtfully. "And what would you require of us? In exchange for this...order?"
Zuko's eyes seem to drill into their very souls. "Information. Loyalty. And of course," he inclined his head towards the Air Nomad's body, "him."
A wave of unease washes over Sokka. This was more than just a discovery, more than barter. There is a darkness in Zuko's words, a thirst for more than just a cold corpse.
Their father, however, seem to weigh these words for only a moment before meeting Zuko's gaze once more. "Very well. The body is yours. In return, I ask for your word that my people will not be targets in whatever conflict the Fire Nation wages."
Zuko bows his head slightly. "You have my word."
Whether that word was worth anything, Sokka thought grimly, was a question they had no time left to ask. But for now, it seems, a bargain has been struck.