The opening shot crashes in with violence and beauty all at once—four blazing fireballs streaking across the dark sky, trailing smoke over Agna Qel'a. They slam into walls, towers, bridges, sending ice and steam erupting outward like geysers. The camera glides downward from the Chief's palace, winding through falling embers and drifting snow, until it reaches the one place still untouched by fire:
The Spirit Oasis.
Appa stands guard, his fur glittering with frost, his tail flicking anxiously. In the pond, the koi continue their eternal dance, circling in perfect yin–yang harmony as if the siege meant nothing to them.
Katara's voice breaks the stillness.
"I can't believe I lost him…"
She kneels beside the water, shoulders trembling, tears slipping silently down her face. Sokka and Yue stand beside her, both helpless, both aching with guilt and fear. The koi ripple softly near her reflection, as if mourning alongside her.
Sokka gently rests his hand on her shoulder. "You did everything you could," he says, voice firm despite the urgency in his eyes. "Now we do everything we can to get him back. Zuko can't have gotten far. We'll find him. Aang's gonna be fine."
Katara wipes her face, inhales shakily, and nods. "Okay."
She rises, stepping back toward Appa. Momo lies curled near the roots of the oasis tree, unmoving, too frightened to leave. Katara touches his head gently.
"It's all right. You stay here, Momo… in case Aang comes back."
Sokka climbs into the saddle behind her. "Yip yip!"
Appa launches into the sky.
But the moment their wings beat upward, something changes.
Down in the oasis, Yue freezes mid-step.
A sudden cold wraps around her like a phantom hand—cold that bites, cold that hurts. For the first time in her life, the princess blessed by the Moon feels the sting of winter like a mortal.
She gasps, spinning toward the center of the oasis—toward Jinx.
He still lies unconscious, half-submerged at the pond's edge, his fingers gently brushing the water's surface. But now black tears—liquid shadow—trail down his cheeks, each drop dissipating into the water like ink dissolving in milk.
"Jinx…?" Yue whispers, frightened.
But then her breath catches in her throat.
The clouds above the oasis begin to swirl, spiraling inward like a vast celestial whirlpool. The wind shifts with supernatural force. Snowflakes twist violently, drawn into a column of storm that rises straight above the oasis pool.
The first gust rips through the air, snapping Yue's braid over her shoulder.
A blizzard.
A real blizzard. The kind only she had read about in ancient records—the kind no mortal could survive.
And she feels something else.
Something warm. Something familiar.
A tether.
A spiritual thread connecting her to Jinx—soft at first, then strengthening with every heartbeat. Not romantic, not like Sokka. But deep, ancient, familial. A sibling bond. A soul's recognition. As if something inside her whispers:
He is of the Moon. Of us.
Her hand rises toward him in instinctive fear and awe.
"What are you…?"
But the storm drowns the rest of her words.
High above, Appa battles the harsh winds, snow whipping across the screen. The frozen tundra below is a violent white void. The storm thickens, the flakes spinning like razors.
Then—
A path.
A single trail of footprints, carved into the snow by steady, determined steps.
The camera follows the line of prints until it reveals Zuko trudging forward, wrapped against the cold, Aang's unconscious body slung across his back. His eyes burn with determination, his breath coming out in white bursts.
Aang's tattoos glow faintly even through his clothing—soft blue light pulsing like a heartbeat.
The blizzard howls, but Zuko pushes on, each step fueled by desperation and fear.
Suddenly, the world changes.
Not physically—but for Aang.
The camera zooms outward from Aang's glowing body, and in an instant the icy tundra dissolves into a mist-filled swamp bathed in ethereal twilight. The Spirit World.
Aang sits on a lone wooden platform, still in meditation posture, before blinking in confusion and standing.
A large white bird soars overhead, slow and graceful. Aang stumbles after it, bewildered, until he hears—
"Ohm…"
Aang turns to see a figure beneath a wooden arch.
A monkey-like spirit sits cross-legged, eyes half-lidded in faux serenity, humming loudly to himself.
Aang approaches cautiously. "Hello? I'm sorry to disturb you. I just really need to find the Moon and Ocean Spirits."
The baboon spirit opens one eye. "Go. Away."
Aang shakes his head. "I can't, I need—"
"Ohm!" the spirit snaps, clenching his eyes shut dramatically.
A glowing firefly drifts past. The spirit suddenly jabs a finger toward it.
"Perhaps that thing will help you. Chase it."
Aang glances at the firefly—then back at the baboon—but the spirit already has his eyes squeezed shut again.
With a sigh, Aang runs.
The firefly bobs upward through the swamp trees, leading him deeper into the Spirit World's haunting serenity.
The baboon spirit cracks open an eye, sees Aang is gone, sighs with relief, and mutters, "Finally."
Aang sprinted through the glowing swamp, bare feet splashing through shallow spirit-water as the firefly darted ahead of him like a living star. It weaved between twisted roots and ghostly reeds, always just out of reach. Aang leapt, arms stretching—and this time his fingers closed around it. He laughed in pure relief and triumph, clutching the light as he landed atop a thick tree branch.
The branch immediately withered beneath him.
It shriveled like dead parchment, cracking and dissolving into motes of gray ash. Aang's smile vanished as the ground dropped away. He barely had time to gasp before he fell backward into the dark water below, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. The firefly slipped from his grasp and floated lazily upward, uncaring, drifting away as Aang reached for it with one hand.
"Come back!" he called, frustration and fear mixing in his voice.
The water stilled around him. He pushed himself upright, droplets sliding down his arms, and looked down at the surface beneath his feet. The reflection staring back was not his own.
Avatar Roku stood there instead, his face calm, his eyes ancient.
Aang froze. "Roku?" he breathed.
"Hello, Aang," Roku said gently, his voice echoing as if spoken from very far away.
The vision shattered—
—and the world snapped back to ice and pain.
Zuko trudged through the blizzard, every step an act of defiance against the wind. Snow slammed into him from all directions, stealing his breath, freezing his lashes together. Beneath his boots, the ice groaned ominously. He stepped forward—
CRACK.
The ground split beneath him like shattered glass. Zuko's eyes widened as the ice fractured in a spiderweb of jagged lines. He broke into a run, boots pounding as the surface collapsed behind him. The blizzard swallowed his vision, the ground giving way in violent chunks. A sudden collapse sent him flying sideways, slamming hard into the snow.
Aang slipped from his grip.
The world went white.
When the snow settled, Zuko lay on his back, gasping, chest heaving. Aang lay several feet away, still unconscious, his tattoos faintly glowing through his clothes. Zuko rolled onto his side, vision blurring, then forced himself upright. He scanned the terrain, panic tightening his chest—until he spotted it.
A cave entrance, half-buried in snow.
"Shelter," he muttered.
He dragged Aang inside, hands numb, movements rough but desperate. Inside the cave, Zuko tied Aang securely and sat back against the stone, breathing fire into his palms to stave off the cold. The flames cast long, flickering shadows across the ice walls as he stared at the unconscious boy.
"I finally have you," Zuko said quietly, bitterness lacing every word. "But I can't even get you home because of this blizzard." He stood and looked out at the howling storm beyond the cave mouth. "There's always something."
He exhaled slowly, voice dropping. "You wouldn't understand. You're like my sister. Everything came easy to her. She was born a prodigy. Everyone adored her. My father says she was born lucky… and that I was lucky just to be born."
His fists clenched.
"I don't need luck. I don't want it. I had to fight for everything. And that made me strong."
Far away, in the Spirit World, Aang stood before Roku, water dripping from his clothes as the swamp shimmered around them.
"Roku," Aang said urgently, "the Water Tribe is under attack. I need to find the Ocean and Moon Spirits."
Roku stepped fully out of the reflection, his presence solid and grave. "The Moon and Ocean are among the oldest spirits," he said. "They crossed into the mortal world near the beginning of time. There is only one spirit I know who is old enough to remember their crossing."
Aang swallowed. "Who?"
"The spirit's name is Koh," Roku replied. "The Face Stealer."
Aang's stomach dropped.
"When you speak to him," Roku continued, eyes sharp, "you must show no emotion. Not even the slightest expression. If you do, he will steal your face."
Aang nodded stiffly, fear clear—but controlled.
Roku studied him more closely then, his expression subtly shifting. For just a heartbeat, something like realization—and dread—flickered across his face. Aang noticed it.
"Roku?" Aang asked. "What is it?"
Roku's face smoothed back into calm, but the weight in his eyes remained. "It seems… he has returned as well," Roku said slowly. "And seeing you still alive, either he does not remember who he is… or he holds no grudges for my mistakes."
Aang frowned. "Roku… who are you talking about?"
Roku exhaled, the sound heavy with centuries of regret. "A long story, Aang. One I have regretted for years. A story of how I foolishly fought an ancient spirit—one who served as protector and creator of the North and South Spirit Pools. A being who, like the Moon and Ocean, has preserved the balance of the world since its earliest days."
Roku's gaze hardened. "You have already met him. Recently. But not in the form I knew."
Aang's eyes widened. "Wait—"
"Only one Avatar before you ever truly understood him," Roku continued quietly. "And just like that Avatar… he has acknowledged you."
In the physical world, Katara, Sokka, and Yue stood at the shattered ice field where the ground had collapsed earlier. Snow blew around their boots as they searched desperately for signs.
Inside the cave, Zuko fed the fire again while Aang's spirit remained far away.
And far beyond them all, the war escalated.
Fire Nation ships smashed through the outer wall of Agna Qel'a. Soldiers poured into the city, flames and steel tearing through ice and stone. On the lead ship, Zhao stood at the bow, eyes gleaming as Iroh joined him.
"We have a time limit," Iroh said grimly. "If we don't defeat the Water Tribe before the full moon rises, they will be unbeatable."
Zhao smiled thinly. "I am well aware."
Iroh turned sharply. "Then why do you look so pleased?"
"Because," Zhao said calmly, "I intend to remove the moon as a factor."
Iroh's eyes widened. "Remove the moon? How?"
Before Zhao could answer, Hahn charged from behind, spear leveled. "Admiral Zhao! Prepare to meet your fate!"
Zhao didn't even turn fully. He grabbed Hahn mid-charge and casually hurled him overboard. Hahn's scream ended in a distant splash. Iroh closed his eyes in quiet dismay.
"As I was saying," Zhao continued smoothly, "years ago I uncovered a great secret."
He gestured as a chest was opened. Inside lay a sword.
When Zhao drew it, the blade sang—a clear, cold note that made even Iroh stiffen. The steel shimmered with impossible purity, its edge flawless, its presence suffocating.
Zhao smiled. "This blade was found in an ancient temple on the shores of the South Pole. One of only twelve ever forged."
Iroh's breath caught. "Supreme Grade…"
"The highest quality a blade can achieve," Zhao said reverently. "And the one that will end the Moon."
Far away, in the Spirit Oasis, the koi continued their dance.
And Jinx—still unconscious—shuddered as the blizzard above the world intensified, his power stirring, ancient and unfinished.
Aang climbed higher along the massive spirit-tree, its bark smooth and pale like old bone, its branches twisting into the fog above him. With every step, the air grew heavier, thicker, as if the world itself were holding its breath. Ahead, set into the trunk like a wound that never healed, yawned the entrance to Koh's lair—a dark, uneven cave rimmed with hanging roots that looked far too much like grasping fingers.
Aang slowed, his heart pounding despite his efforts to stay calm. From within the cave came faint, unsettling sounds—scraping, whispering, the soft clicking of something moving just out of sight. He took a cautious step forward, then stopped.
The noise wasn't coming from the cave.
He glanced to his left and let out a small, relieved sigh when he spotted the strange monkey spirit perched nearby, its long tail curled neatly around the branch, its blue nose twitching.
"You're just a curly-tailed blue-nose," Aang muttered, allowing himself the tiniest smile.
The monkey turned its head.
There was no face.
Aang's breath caught in his throat. "Aaah—!" The scream almost escaped him, but he stopped it halfway, clamping down on instinct. He squeezed his eyes shut and inhaled deeply, steadying himself as Roku's voice echoed alongside his own in his mind.
Show no fear. Show no emotion at all.
When he opened his eyes, his face was calm—carefully, deliberately empty. Without another word, he stepped into the cave.
"Hello?" Aang said evenly. "I—I'm looking for a spirit named Koh."
At the sound of the name, the cave seemed to wake. The roots hanging from the ceiling twitched, then slowly began to writhe. Aang's eyes flicked around, alert but controlled. The shadows shifted. Something moved behind him.
The camera lingered on Aang's face as it remained still, then panned slightly to the side, leaving the space behind his shoulder empty for just a heartbeat—
—and then a face slid into view.
White as bone, with dull gray patches beneath its eyes and full, blood-red lips stretched into a knowing smile.
The lips moved closer.
Then the rest of Koh revealed himself.
A massive, centipede-like body unfurled from the darkness, arching around Aang in a slow, deliberate coil. Eight spindly legs framed the pale face as it hovered inches from Aang's own, upside down, invasive, intimate.
"Welcome," Koh purred.
Aang didn't flinch.
The spirit withdrew slightly, hanging from the ceiling like a grotesque chandelier. Aang bowed, hands clasped respectfully before him.
"Thank you," he said, voice flat, controlled.
Koh drifted behind him, circling. "My old friend, the Avatar. It's been a long time."
"You know me?" Aang asked, still without emotion.
Koh turned away from him, and his face rippled. It shifted—like skin sliding over water—into that of a furious, mustached man with thick brows and a twisted scowl.
"How could I forget you?" Koh snarled. "One of your previous incarnations tried to slay me. Eight… maybe nine hundred years ago."
Aang frowned slightly, then smoothed his features. "I didn't know that. Why did he—or I—try to kill you?"
Koh's face melted again, becoming that of a terrified woman, eyes wide with grief. "Oh, it was something about stealing the face of someone you loved."
For a dangerous fraction of a second, emotion stirred in Aang's eyes—but he caught it, buried it, forced his face back into stillness.
Koh laughed, his face snapping into that of a baboon as he circled closer. "Of course, that's all behind us. Why hold a grudge over a past life?" He leaned in close, whispering into Aang's ear. "After all… you're a different person now. You've come to me with a new face."
Aang closed his eyes, breathed once, slowly.
The scene flickered briefly to the physical world—Zuko exhaling into the freezing air of the cave, steam curling from his mouth.
"Guess we'll be here a while," Zuko muttered.
The blizzard howled outside. Appa stood in the storm with Katara, Sokka, and Yue watching anxiously.
"Don't worry," Yue said, hugging herself against the cold. "Prince Zuko can't be getting far in this weather."
Katara shook her head, eyes fixed on the white horizon. "I'm not worried they'll escape. I'm worried they won't."
Back in the Spirit World, Koh continued his lazy orbit around Aang.
"It's been a long time since I added a child's face to my collection," Koh mused, his face now that of a great owl. "So… how may I help you?"
"I need to find the moon and the ocean," Aang replied.
Koh nodded slowly. "Their spirit names are Tui and La. Push and pull. That has been the nature of their relationship since the beginning."
"Please," Aang said. "An entire culture could be destroyed if I don't get their help."
Koh's face became that of a withered old man, eyes heavy with mock sympathy. "Oh, you think you need their help."
In an instant, Koh lunged forward, stopping mere inches from Aang's face, now wearing the snarling visage of a blue-skinned ogre with glowing red eyes.
"Actually," Koh hissed, "it's quite the other way around. Someone's going to kill them."
Aang's eyes shut for a heartbeat, then opened again, steady. "What do you mean? How can I protect them?"
Koh's face smoothed back into its pale, original form. He turned away, coiling back toward the shadows. "You've already met them. Tui and La have always circled one another in an eternal dance. Life and death. Push and pull. Good and evil. Yin and yang."
Aang's mind flashed with the image of the black and white koi swimming endlessly in the oasis pond, the vision of the yin-yang symbol forming before his eyes.
"The koi fish," Aang blurted.
Koh snapped around—but Aang had already forced his face back into perfect calm. "I must be going now."
Koh's face shifted once more, becoming that of a bald young man. "We'll meet again."
Then Koh paused. His eyes narrowed, something like recognition flickering across his borrowed features.
"…Interesting," he murmured. "It seems Yuki has resurrected. I never thought he would appear again after that fight with Roku."
Aang stilled. "Yuki? Is that the ancient spirit Roku said he fought and injured?"
Koh's expression darkened. "The very same. Yuki is one of the first spirits—born alongside cold itself. The Nine-Tailed Snow Fox. He sees life as suffering and existence as meaningless. Death follows him naturally, as winter follows night."
Koh's body shifted as he spoke, shadows writhing. "He studied the benders who died by his cold and learned to refine it. Water. Air. Fire. Once every thousand years, he unleashes a storm that blankets the world for a decade. Many Avatars have fallen to him."
Koh smiled thinly. "One Avatar had enough. Over a hundred years ago. After his wife and child nearly died in the storm, he found Yuki's resting place and fought him for three days and nights. The battle shook both worlds."
Aang listened, breath shallow.
"In the end," Koh continued, "Avatar Roku destabilized the island beneath them, forcing Yuki to retreat to the Spirit World. But the energy released empowered Roku beyond anything seen before. His fire rivaled the dragons themselves. It wounded Yuki… and it wounded Roku in return. That weakness later killed him."
Koh's eyes gleamed. "Roku saved his family. But in doing so, he doomed the Southern Water Tribe. Yuki had been their protector. Without him, they were vulnerable."
Aang felt his chest tighten—but he kept his face still. One thought echoed louder than the rest.
Fire. Water. Air.
Only one person he knew could bend more than one element.
Jinx.
Koh watched him closely, searching for a crack—but Aang gave him none. Without another word, Aang turned and walked out of the cave.
He ran beneath the great tree, breath quickening. "The spirits are in trouble. I need to get back to the physical world."
Roku's image appeared on the ground before him. "A friend is here to guide you back."
Aang turned, relief flooding him as he saw the massive panda-like spirit emerging from the fog.
"Hei Bai!"
The spirit let out a deep, ancient groan as Aang leapt onto Hei Bai's broad back, the sound vibrating through the Spirit World like a shifting mountain. With a powerful bound, Hei Bai surged forward, the mist tearing apart around them as the scenery blurred into streaks of pale green and silver. In the blink of an eye, the world fractured—and reality slammed back into place.
Fireballs screamed through the night sky above Agna Qel'a, their blazing arcs reflected in the ice before crashing into the city with thunderous force. Stone and ice exploded outward as walls buckled, and Water Tribe citizens scattered through smoke-filled streets. A tank rolled through a plaza, its metal treads grinding sacred carvings into powder as it smashed through a towering totem pole, the carved faces splintering apart beneath its weight. Two waterbenders rushed it, shouting in unison as they summoned frozen waves, but the machine pushed on, flames roaring from its vents.
Farther along the city, the ocean churned violently, dozens of Fire Navy ships cutting through the black water like knives. Above them, the moon loomed—huge, luminous, watching. On a bridge, Fire Nation soldiers charged forward, only to shout in panic as a waterbender dropped from above, slamming her hands down. The bridge wrenched free and slid backward in a grinding scream of ice, carrying the soldiers with it into the freezing depths below. Elsewhere, a lone waterbender faced down a tank, drawing the snow and ice around it upward until the machine vanished beneath a crushing white tomb.
Shards of ice flew like arrows, clanging against Fire Nation shields as soldiers braced and advanced. Pakku stood amid the chaos like the eye of a storm, calm and deadly. With a sharp twist of his arms, he froze eight charging soldiers in place, dodging a blast of fire as tanks closed in around him. Water surged at his command, slicing clean through metal wheels and sending soldiers skidding helplessly before sealing them in ice. He rose into the air on a spiraling column of water, fire blasts streaking past him, then collapsed the cyclone outward, smashing firebenders aside like leaves.
Across the ice, waterbenders hurled a captured tank skyward, sending it tumbling end over end toward Zhao's command vessel.
"We'll be following this map to a very special location," Zhao said coolly aboard his ship, eyes gleaming. "And when we get there… we're going fishing."
The world snapped back to the Spirit World just long enough for Aang to leap from Hei Bai's back at the place where his journey had begun. He looked around desperately. "This is where I came in—but how do I get back?" Hei Bai rose onto his hind legs and unleashed a blinding beam of energy that swallowed Aang whole, tearing him back into the physical world.
High above, the baboon spirit cracked one eye open. "Good riddance." The ground shook as Hei Bai's monstrous form erupted behind him, a searing blast of energy sending the baboon spirit flying before Hei Bai faded once more into calm silence.
Aang stumbled into the Spirit Oasis, eyes wide as he spotted Momo sitting anxiously by the water. "Momo!" Relief flooded him—then panic. "Oh no… where's my body?" Light wrapped around him, lifting him skyward as he shot across Agna Qel'a like a falling star. Katara turned just in time to see him streak overhead.
"That's Aang!" she cried. "Yip-yip!"
Appa thundered into the air as Aang dove straight into the cave, light flooding the darkness. He snapped awake with a gasp, struggling against his restraints—and locking eyes with Zuko.
"Welcome back," Zuko said quietly.
Aang's jaw tightened. "It's good to be back." With a violent burst of air, he slammed Zuko into the cave wall and blasted himself outside. He wriggled across the snow, only for Zuko to seize him again, hauling him up by the collar.
"That won't be enough to escape," Zuko growled.
"Appa!" Aang shouted—and the sky answered. Appa landed hard, Katara sliding free as Zuko hurled Aang aside.
"Here for a rematch?" Zuko sneered.
Katara met his fire with cold confidence, water flashing into shields and whips. "Trust me, Zuko. It won't be much of a match." She launched him skyward, then smashed him back into the ice with a thunderous crash. Sokka ran in, cutting Aang free.
"Hey," he said, tugging at the knots, "this is some quality rope."
"We have to get to the oasis," Aang said urgently. "The spirits are in danger."
Appa lifted off—but Aang hesitated, then leapt back down, hauling Zuko onto the saddle despite Sokka's protests. "If we leave him, he'll die."
They were too late.
At the oasis, Zhao plunged his hand into the water and seized Tui, ripping the Moon Spirit from the pond. The world screamed. The moon bled red, and the color drained from everything beneath it. Unnoticed, Jinx still lay by the pool, his hand submerged. Black crept up his arm like living ink, magenta cracks splitting through it as dark tears streamed down his face and his fingers twitched.
Across Agna Qel'a, waterbenders fell as their power vanished. Pakku collapsed to his knees. Ice shattered uselessly. Firebenders laughed as their flames burned brighter beneath the crimson sky.
On Appa's saddle, Yue clutched her head, swaying. "I feel faint."
"I feel it too," Aang said hoarsely. "The Moon Spirit is in trouble."
Yue's voice trembled as she spoke, the memory spilling out of her. She told them of her birth, of being still and silent, of healers who failed, and a father who begged the spirits beneath the full moon. Of being placed into the oasis waters—of dark hair turning white, of breath and life returning.
"That's why my name is Yue," she finished softly. "For the moon."
Above them, the red moon burned, and somewhere deep within the oasis, something ancient began to stir.
The Spirit World shuddered.
Jinx had just managed to catch his breath, standing between Tui and Li on the endless mirror of still water, when the color of the world began to bleed. The deep blues of the night sky bruised into crimson, the moon's reflection warping like it had been struck from beneath. The calm beneath their feet rippled for the first time since he arrived.
"…That's not right," Jinx muttered, already feeling it in his bones.
Tui gasped softly.
Jinx turned just in time to see her hand begin to fade, light passing through her fingers as if she were made of mist instead of moonlight. The glow around her dimmed, flickering like a candle starved of air.
"Tui?" he said sharply, stepping toward her. "Hey—no, no, don't do that."
Li was at her side instantly, his composure cracking for the first time. "This shouldn't be happening," he said, voice tight, eyes darting to the sky now fully stained red. "The balance hasn't been broken here. Not yet."
Tui tried to smile, but it wavered, fear slipping through the cracks. "Something is happening in the mortal world," she whispered. "Something violent… something deliberate."
Jinx felt it then—like a hook buried deep in his chest being yanked hard. The same pull he'd felt in the oasis, the same wrongness crawling up his arm. "Someone touched you," he said, jaw tightening. "Didn't they."
Li clenched his fists. "Not touched," he corrected grimly. "Taken."
Tui's transparency spread up her arm now, her outline blurring. She staggered, and Jinx caught her without thinking, arms wrapping around light and cold. She felt real—too real—for something that was vanishing.
"Hey," he said under his breath, panic leaking into his voice despite himself. "You don't get to disappear on me. Not after all that."
Tui leaned into him, her voice growing faint but steady. "Little brother… listen to me. The Moon Spirit exists in both worlds. If my physical form is harmed—"
"You die," Jinx snapped. "Yeah. I get it."
Li rounded on him. "Then you understand why you cannot hesitate. The red you're seeing—it's the moon reacting. Someone has violated a law older than nations."
Jinx looked around, the Spirit World trembling now, the water beneath them reflecting fire instead of stars. "Zhao," he said quietly. "That idiot with the ego problem."
Li nodded once. "He has always been loud in the spiritual currents. Now he's screaming."
Tui's hand tightened weakly in Jinx's sleeve. "If I fade here completely… the balance will collapse. Water will lose its pull. Life will unravel."
Jinx swallowed, anger burning cold behind his eyes. "Not happening," he said. "I didn't crawl back into existence just to watch you get murdered by a man with a book and a sword."
Li stepped closer, placing a firm hand on Jinx's shoulder. "Then you must wake. Fully. What's happening to you in the mortal world—it's not a coincidence. The Moon is calling you the same way it calls the tides."
Jinx scoffed weakly. "Yeah, well, she's got a terrible way of asking."
Despite everything, Tui laughed softly, the sound thin but real. "You always complained about dramatic entrances."
Her form flickered again, more violently this time, and Li's voice hardened. "Go," he said. "Now. If you wait any longer, you may not be able to cross back."
Jinx hesitated, looking down at Tui, then back at Li. "If I leave—"
"We will hold what remains," Li said firmly. "But only for so long."
Tui met Jinx's eyes, moonlight dim but unwavering. "Whatever you choose next," she said, "choose it loudly."
The red sky cracked.
Jinx felt the pull snap tight, dragging at his soul like a riptide. He squeezed Tui once more, then let go, teeth clenched. "Don't you dare fade on me," he said. "I'll be back. And when I am… someone's going to regret this."
The Spirit World folded inward, red swallowing silver, and Jinx vanished—leaving Li standing alone beside a thinning, trembling moonlight, staring at the place where his brother had been, and hoping the world would survive what came next.
Zhao stood at the edge of the Spirit Oasis with his chest puffed out and madness shining in his eyes, clutching the sack that writhed faintly in his grip as if the very world were begging him to stop. His laughter rang sharp and hollow across the frozen stone, carried unnaturally far in the deadened air. He threw his head back, voice rising with every word, already drunk on the story he was telling himself.
"I am a legend now," he proclaimed, fingers tightening around the sack. "For generations, the Fire Nation will tell tales of Zhao the Conqueror. Zhao the Moon Slayer. Zhao the Invincible."
Momo chose that exact moment to dive straight onto his head, screeching furiously and clawing at his topknot. Zhao yelped, staggering as he swatted wildly, dignity shattering in an instant. "Get it off! Get it off me!"
The lemur sprang away, wings beating hard as he sailed toward Aang. He landed on the boy's arm and scampered to his shoulder, chittering urgently, while Katara and Sokka stood just behind him, tense and pale. Around them, Fire Nation soldiers raised their weapons, waterbenders braced themselves, and the oasis felt like the eye of a storm that had already decided to break.
Zhao lifted the sack again, eyes blazing. "Don't bother," he said calmly, almost gently. "One move, and the moon dies."
"Zhao, don't!" Aang pleaded, his voice cracking as he stepped forward with his hands raised. "Destroying the moon won't just hurt the Water Tribe. It'll hurt everyone. Without it, the world falls apart. You don't understand what you're unleashing."
"I understand destiny," Zhao snapped back.
"He's right," a familiar voice cut in from the shadows.
Zhao turned slowly, irritation twisting into cold fury as Iroh removed his hood and stepped into the open. "General Iroh," Zhao said coolly. "Why am I not surprised."
"I am no traitor," Iroh replied, his voice steady but burning beneath the surface. "The Fire Nation needs the moon just as much as anyone. Whatever you do to that spirit will come back on you tenfold. Let it go. Now."
For a fraction of a second, Zhao hesitated.
Then the air screamed.
A sound like a thousand birds shrieking at once tore through the night, and the temperature dropped so sharply that even the Fire Nation soldiers gasped. Everyone turned toward the source as crackling magenta lightning split the sky.
Jinx was standing at the edge of the oasis.
His eyes were wide and unfocused, his breathing uneven, black tears streaking down his face as energy coiled violently around his hand. He raised two fingers, lightning screaming between them, and unleashed it in a blinding arc toward Zhao.
Iroh reacted instantly, snapping his own fingers up and catching the lightning—but the force was far beyond what he'd anticipated. His boots carved deep trenches into the ice as he was driven backward, teeth gritted in pain as he redirected the bolt at the last second. The lightning tore through the air and obliterated the tip of a distant mountain in a silent flash that left everyone staring in disbelief.
Jinx tried to strike again, raw power surging out of control, but Fire Nation soldiers fired streams of flame toward him. He stomped the ground and a wall of ice exploded upward—but that single heartbeat was enough.
Zhao screamed in rage and slashed the sack with a blade of fire.
The world went silent.
The moon dimmed, then bled out of the sky entirely. Color drained from everything as if life itself had been pulled away. Iroh recoiled in horror. Aang looked up, eyes wide, feeling the balance snap like a bone.
La circled the lifeless body of Tui in the water, thrashing in grief.
Jinx didn't move.
He stared at the still form of his sister, his expression empty, as if something fundamental inside him had finally broken. Yue stepped forward, trembling, her voice barely audible. "There's… no hope now."
"No," Aang said softly, his tattoos igniting as the Avatar State claimed him. "It's not over."
He stepped into the water, and La surged around him, blue energy exploding outward as the Ocean Spirit merged with the Avatar. The oasis blazed with power, rivers and canals lighting up across Agna Qel'a as a towering spirit form rose from the depths, unstoppable and ancient.
Even Zhao and Zuko froze mid-fight as a roar thundered across the land—one so deep and cold it cut straight through bone and soul. The Avatar's spirit form halted, turning slowly toward the oasis.
Dark clouds spiraled overhead, magenta lightning lacing through them.
Back at the pond, Jinx took a single step forward and walked into the water.
Stone crept across his skin in an instant, his body locking in place as if turning into a statue. Katara gasped. Yue screamed his name. Then cracks split across him and he shattered completely, collapsing into fragments that vanished beneath the surface.
The water turned black.
Iroh backed away slowly, dread filling his chest as the pond churned violently. Two enormous magenta lights ignited beneath the surface—eyes. Then more appeared. Dozens. Hundreds. Across the pond, across the outer ring of the oasis, watching.
A massive paw burst free of the water, followed by another, sending waves crashing outward. The surface split as a colossal fox's head rose into view, fur black as midnight, veined with glowing magenta cracks. Its eyes were not just two—but many—embedded across its body, and each of its nine tails bore a single enormous, unblinking eye that gazed upon the world with ancient indifference.
The spirit lifted its head and roared.
Winter answered.
And for the first time in centuries, the world remembered what it meant to fear the name Yuki.
The moment Jinx fully emerged in his true form, the world around the Spirit Oasis ceased to feel like the mortal realm at all. The massive nine-tailed fox rose higher, water cascading from his obsidian fur as if gravity itself hesitated to touch him. Each breath he took drew the heat out of the air, frosting stone and steel alike, while magenta lightning crawled beneath his skin like a second pulse. His many eyes swept across the battlefield—not with calculation, not even with hatred, but with raw, unfiltered grief that had curdled into something catastrophic.
Then he roared.
The sound tore through Agna Qel'a like a physical force. Ice exploded outward from his paws as he slammed them into the ground, the shockwave freezing streets, walls, and fallen debris in an instant. Fire Nation soldiers closest to the oasis didn't even have time to scream before black ice surged up around them, locking armor and bodies in place mid-motion. The cold wasn't normal—it wasn't waterbending cold. It was absence, a void that devoured heat until flames guttered out like candles in vacuum.
A cluster of firebenders tried to retaliate, launching arcs of flame toward his towering form. Jinx turned his head slowly, jaws parting. From his mouth poured lightning—not thin bolts, but a roaring, continuous torrent of black-and-violet energy that screamed as it tore through the air. The blast vaporized fire, metal, and stone alike, carving a molten trench through the battlefield and sending Fire Nation soldiers scattering in blind terror. The lightning never left his mouth; it was a dragon's breath made of storm and judgment.
Firebenders fell back instinctively, some dropping their weapons, others firing wildly. Jinx answered them with fire of his own. Dark purple flames ignited along his tails and spine, not flickering like mortal fire but flowing like liquid night. With a single sweeping motion of his tail, he sent a crescent wave of fox-fire across the battlefield. It didn't just burn—it consumed. Armor glowed white, weapons melted in hands, and soldiers were flung aside by the sheer force of it, crashing into walls already coated in ice.
Yet through all of it, something terrifyingly deliberate remained.
Water Tribe warriors found themselves untouched.
When waterbenders rose to defend the city, the cold parted around them, ice stopping inches from their feet. Waves redirected themselves mid-motion. Even stray lightning curved away as if repelled by an unseen boundary. Jinx's many eyes flicked over them briefly—not with mercy exactly, but recognition. He did not shield them consciously. He simply refused, on some deep, instinctive level, to turn his fury on them.
The Fire Nation noticed.
Soldiers shouted warnings, commanders screamed orders, and still the rampage continued. Tanks were crushed beneath slabs of black ice as Jinx brought his forelimbs down again and again, the ground cracking beneath each impact. Fox-fire rained from above as he shook his mane, embers drifting like cursed snow. A group of firebenders tried to flank him, only for the ground beneath them to flash-freeze, snapping their legs out from under them before a blast of lightning from his jaws finished the charge in a blinding explosion.
Above it all, the storm responded to him.
Dark clouds twisted tighter, magenta lightning flashing in sync with his movements. Snow fell heavier, sharper, driven sideways by winds that howled with his rage. The temperature plummeted so fast that breath froze mid-air. Even hardened Fire Nation veterans—men who had fought through volcanoes and sieges—broke and ran when they realized the storm itself was hunting them.
And still, beneath the devastation, there was restraint.
Jinx did not chase fleeing civilians. He did not tear through waterbenders shielding their wounded. When Fire Nation soldiers collapsed near Northern healers, the ice stopped just short, cracking harmlessly instead of closing in. His rampage was focused, brutal, and unmistakably targeted.
This was not mindless destruction.
This was vengeance filtered through barely held sanity.
Back at the oasis, the world felt unbearably quiet in the aftermath of devastation, as though even the wind feared to speak. Smoke drifted low over shattered ice and scorched stone while the pond lay unnaturally still. Iroh knelt at its edge with solemn care, his movements slow and deliberate as he lowered the lifeless black koi into the water. The surface rippled weakly around it, offering no resistance, no answer.
Katara stood nearby, her voice breaking as she shook her head. It felt final, absolute. "It's too late… it's dead."
Iroh did not look up at first. His eyes were fixed on the koi, his expression heavy with centuries of wisdom and regret. Then he noticed Yue standing apart from the others, pale, trembling, yet strangely calm. He turned fully toward her, something dawning in his gaze. "You," he said softly. "You have been touched by the Moon Spirit." His voice lowered with certainty. "Some of its life still flows within you."
Yue nodded, her eyes shining with quiet resolve. "Yes," she whispered. "It gave me life. Maybe… maybe I can give it back."
Sokka's breath caught sharply. "No." He rushed forward, panic overtaking him as he grabbed her hand. "You don't have to do this. You don't owe anyone your life."
She looked at him then, truly looked at him, and her smile was gentle and devastating all at once. "It's my duty, Sokka."
"I won't let you!" His grip tightened, desperation bleeding into his voice. "Your father told me to protect you."
"I know," Yue said softly. "And you did." Her fingers slipped from his grasp, and before he could pull her back, she knelt at the edge of the pond. She placed both hands on the koi, closing her eyes as a faint glow began to build beneath her palms.
Light bloomed.
Sokka caught her as her strength gave out, her body going limp in his arms. "No," he choked. "She's gone… she's gone."
But the water stirred.
Out at sea, Aang—still wreathed in the immense power of the Ocean Spirit—drove the last Fire Nation ships back into the frozen horizon. Hulls shattered, waves swallowed steel, and the invasion finally broke beneath the weight of something ancient and absolute. When he turned back toward the city, he felt it—the shift. Balance returning.
At the oasis, the pond erupted in brilliant silver light. Energy rose upward like mist, coalescing into the glowing figure of Yue. Her form hovered gently above the water, serene and radiant, no longer bound by flesh.
"Goodbye, Sokka," she said, her voice echoing like moonlight on water.
She leaned down, kissed him softly, and then dissolved into light as the moon reappeared in the sky, restoring color and life to the world. The cold loosened its grip. Water answered once more.
Aang felt the Ocean Spirit withdraw, its vast form dissolving back into the sea. He was left standing on the city wall, breath ragged, strength spent, staring up at the moon with tears in his eyes.
On a distant bridge, Zuko and Zhao clashed amid drifting snow and shattered ice. Zhao faltered mid-strike, eyes snapping upward as the moonlight returned. "It can't be…" he breathed.
Then Zuko saw it.
A shadow fell over them—immense, suffocating. Slowly, Zhao turned.
Jinx stood towering above the bridge in his true form, nine tails unfurled like banners of night, countless eyes burning with magenta fury. The hatred in those eyes was so overwhelming that Zhao's mind nearly fractured trying to comprehend it. Instinct screamed at him to run, to kneel, to beg—but he was a soldier, and soldiers reached for weapons.
His hand went for the supreme-grade katana.
He never unsheathed it.
Jinx's jaws opened, revealing not a mouth but a spiraling void lined with thousands of razor-sharp teeth. A swirling magenta portal formed within his throat, and the wind screamed as it reversed direction. Everything was pulled toward him.
Zuko slammed his hands into the ice, fire erupting from his palms to fuse it into grips he clung to desperately. Zhao wasn't fast enough. He was lifted from the bridge, dragged screaming toward oblivion.
Zuko shouted, voice tearing through the gale. "Take my hand!"
For a single heartbeat, Zhao hesitated. Pride, fear, and defiance warred on his face. Then he pulled his hand back.
The fox's jaws closed.
The scream ended.
Silence followed.
Jinx straightened slowly, rising to his full, terrifying height. Though the one responsible for his sister's death was gone, the fury inside him still raged, untamed and catastrophic. Humans had failed her. The world had failed her. His many eyes turned toward the palace, where Pakku, Katara, Sokka, and the gathered Water Tribe watched in frozen horror.
Jinx opened his mouth again.
Red and blue energies gathered, fire and cold spiraling together into a dark purple sphere crackling with magenta lightning. The air screamed under the pressure. Every bender present felt it—knew it. This would end the Northern Water Tribe. There would be nothing left.
Then the moon flared.
The water beneath Jinx surged violently as two translucent figures emerged—one radiant woman in white with black accents, and one tall, imposing man dressed in black with white trim. With a single, effortless gesture from the man, enormous spectral chains erupted from the water, wrapping around each of Jinx's limbs, halting him completely.
The woman floated forward, unafraid. She reached up, resting her hand against the massive fox's muzzle, stroking it gently. Her voice was calm, loving. "It's okay," she said. "I'm here. You don't need to do this anymore."
The energy in Jinx's jaws faltered, then dissipated. His many eyes trembled, fury collapsing into raw grief.
The onlookers stared in stunned silence, understanding dawning with wide eyes.
The man was La.
The woman was Tui—alive once more.
And for the first time since the moon had died, the world truly breathed again.
Jinx lifted his massive head slowly, the storm he had summoned thinning just enough for moonlight to pierce through the swirling mist. For the first time since the moment Zhao struck down his sister, he truly saw it—the moon whole and radiant once more, hanging in the sky exactly where it belonged. Its light washed over his many eyes, softening the rage that had consumed him, cooling the grief that had threatened to freeze the world solid. A deep, shuddering breath escaped his vast chest, the sound less a roar now and more a weary sigh.
Then the change began.
Frost crept over his form, not violent, not forced, but gentle—almost reverent. His fur crystallized into black ice, tail by tail, limb by limb, the countless eyes dimming one by one until only faint magenta cracks glowed beneath the surface. The great nine-tailed fox became still, transformed into a colossal statue of frozen night. For a brief heartbeat, he stood there—silent, monumental—before the ice fractured with a hollow, echoing sound. The statue collapsed inward, breaking apart into shards that sank beneath the darkened water of the oasis. When the ripples settled, there was no sign of the fox… and no sign of Jinx.
Only quiet remained.
Tui and La turned from the water and approached the stunned onlookers. Their presence alone seemed to steady the world, the air warming just enough to remind everyone that life still moved forward. Aang stepped in beside them, exhausted but standing, his eyes wide with awe and understanding far beyond his years.
La bowed deeply, his movements precise and solemn, the weight of eternity carried in the simple gesture. "Avatar Aang," he said, his voice resonant like deep currents beneath the sea. "And people of the Northern Water Tribe. I offer my deepest gratitude." His gaze swept across the gathered warriors, the healers, the elders, and finally settled on Iroh. "You stood against imbalance. You suffered loss. You chose compassion when destruction was easier. For returning my sister to this world, for preserving the balance we are sworn to protect… I will never forget this debt. The Ocean remembers."
Tui stepped forward next, her expression soft, luminous, and filled with quiet sorrow and pride. She bowed as well, her focus resting gently on Chief Arnook. "Your daughter," she said, her voice like moonlight on still water, "gave everything so that the world might continue. Her spirit shines brightly with us now. She is safe. She is at peace. And she will never be alone."
Arnook's composure finally broke. His shoulders trembled as tears slipped freely down his face, relief and grief mingling together in a way words could never fully capture. He pressed a hand to his chest, bowing in return, unable to speak for several moments. Though Yue was no longer bound to the physical world, knowing she still existed—still watched over the world she loved—was enough to keep his heart from breaking completely.
The moonlight strengthened overhead, reflecting across the restored waters of the oasis. The storm clouds faded into nothing more than memory. And though Jinx was gone from sight, there was a strange sense that he had not vanished entirely—only withdrawn, resting somewhere deep beneath the water and ice, bound once more to a fragile balance he had nearly shattered.
For now, the world endured.
Morning came quietly to the North, the kind of still, pale dawn that only followed catastrophe. Snow lay smooth again, as if the night's violence had been a bad dream the world chose to forget. High above Agna Qel'a, Pakku stood on a ledge overlooking the city, his hands folded behind his back, eyes fixed on the horizon where the sea met the sky. The wind tugged at his robes, carrying with it the sounds of rebuilding far below.
Katara stood a step behind him, watching his face, waiting.
"I've decided to go to the South Pole," Pakku said at last, his voice calm but weighted with purpose. "Some of our benders and healers will be joining me. It's time we helped rebuild our sister tribe. They've endured enough."
Katara's eyes widened, surprise quickly followed by concern. "What about Aang?" she asked. "He still needs to learn waterbending."
Pakku turned then, really looked at her, and for the first time there was no stern judgment in his expression—only respect. "Then he'd better get used to calling you Master Katara."
For a heartbeat, she didn't breathe. Then the meaning settled in, and something fierce and proud lit behind her eyes.
Not far away, on another ledge, Chief Arnook stood beside Sokka, both of them gazing up at the moon as it hung serene and whole in the morning sky. It looked peaceful now, innocent—betraying nothing of the price paid for its return.
"The spirits gave me a vision when Yue was born," Arnook said quietly. "I saw a beautiful, brave young woman become the Moon Spirit." He exhaled slowly. "I knew this day would come."
Sokka swallowed, his usual humor nowhere to be found. "You must be proud."
Arnook nodded, his gaze never leaving the sky. "So proud," he said softly. "…and so sad."
Far from the city, where the sea stretched open and empty, a simple wooden raft drifted across the water. Zuko sat hunched near the edge, staring at nothing, while Iroh tended the rudder with unhurried movements.
"I'm surprised, Prince Zuko," Iroh said gently, "surprised that you are not, at this very moment, attempting to capture the Avatar."
Zuko didn't look up. "I'm tired."
Iroh stepped closer and rested a warm, steady hand on his nephew's shoulder. "Then you should rest," he said. "A man needs his rest."
Zuko lay back against the raft, eyes finally closing—only for the raft to jolt abruptly to a stop.
Both of them froze.
Iroh leaned over the edge first. Zuko followed, and what they saw made them both fall silent.
Floating in the water beside the raft was Jinx.
He was unconscious, pale against the dark sea, his black hair fanned out around him like ink. One hand still clutched Zhao's katana, sheathed, untouched since the moment it had been claimed. The storm was gone. The rage was gone. What remained was only a boy—dangerous, strange, and impossibly still.
Iroh glanced at Zuko. Zuko glanced back. Neither of them spoke.
Back in Agna Qel'a, Aang stood alone on the ledge, staring out at the ocean. The weight of everything he had seen, everything he had felt, pressed down on him in quiet waves. He sensed someone behind him and turned.
Katara didn't say anything. She just stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him.
He hugged her back without hesitation, burying his face against her shoulder. Momo chittered nearby, hopping closer.
"You too, Momo," Katara said softly.
Aang smiled faintly. "Come here."
Momo leapt up onto Aang's shoulders as Sokka joined them, placing a hand on Aang's back. Together, the four of them stood there, watching the ocean shimmer beneath the restored moon. Appa rose into view in front of them, massive and gentle, letting out a low, contented groan.
For a moment, the world felt… whole.
Far away, deep within the Fire Nation, torchlight flickered against black stone walls. In the Fire Lord's chamber, Ozai stood before his daughter, his expression cold and final.
"Iroh is a traitor," he said. "And your brother Zuko is a failure. I have a task for you."
Azula looked up at him slowly.
And smiled.