The sea was muted grey-green under a lid of cloud, and Raven's ship cut a thin, impatient line through it—Raven herself having blasted the coal fires as much as she could to reach what could be considered reckless speeds. Having given the engines her last spark, she stood at the bow with both hands on the rail, fine cloak and mismatched blanket as well wrapped tight around her shoulders because the night wind didn't care about noble styles. Salt stung the cuts on her knuckles. Her feet still throbbed inside their bandages with every shift of the deck. It felt like a challenge from her body to see how long she could go acting like she didn't need to lay down.
It was impossible to tell if it was morning or just an awfully dismal day, what with gloomy light, and near moonless waves. The creaking hull felt twice as loud in the odd quiet, and Lo Pei's crew was creeping around with the careful, guilty steps of men who had recently looked mass execution in the eyes and decided sobriety might have some merits after all.
Raven didn't look back at them. Her throat hurt too much to yell, and she'd have to, surely. So she stared ahead at the first glimmer of a dawn in the wrong direction, and the wrong time. At first she thought it was just the horizon playing tricks, or even a Fire Nation fleet engaged in fireball hurling battle. But it was just a phantom smear of orange light where the clouds were thinner. Then a pale suggestion of a second sun rising.
Then it pulsed, which suns are well tested not to do. It was subtle, like the ebb and glow of dying embers brought briefly to life with a breath. She could think of no natural weather that came close to what she was now leaned in towards, as if it would help get a closer look miles away.
"Arzayanagi," she said under her breath, then let that breath out with displeasure. "What in the world is that kid up to."
It was something she'd seen a few times before, although always when it was in her father's or grandfather's hands. Arzaya, distressing as she seemed in that vision that Raven wished she could recall better, granted her descendants a sense of the spear whenever it was used. It could feel like heat off a kiln, sound like a distant shrieking whistle, or appear as a glow on the horizon in its direction if one was particularly close—within only a few dozen miles at most. What had been an ornament she regarded very rarely was now feeling eminently critical, she just didn't know for what.
"Sure wish she was better at explaining her damned self," Raven grumbled, of Arzaya. "Crazy old witch. Why let Aang have you?"
She knew without a doubt that Aang had the spear, so she was heading straight for Zuko too. A pang of panic hit her that she wouldn't be ready to fight so soon. Raven's jaw set so hard it hurt. She had to push aside worrying if the Avatar was about to blow himself to smithereens with a deadly weapon he was certainly deeply unqualified to use. Father would scold her, 'Arzaya knows what she's doing', surely. But he'd be far more furious just knowing she was out hunting Zuko. By the spirits that backstabbing boy was tearing her heart to pieces. It took every ounce of her trained noble composure not to just curl up by the rail and have a cry.
"My lady?" Lo Pei ventured.
"Nnggah!" she warbled, sniffled, and buried her face in her blanket in an awkward flurry just in case the moistness on her eyes could be seen in the gloom. "Lo Pei, what!" She puffed up her chest, let out, and before he even had time to tense up she quickly said, "sorry, you're just so quiet." She glanced at the rest of the crew that was still mid tip-toeing around to avoid her ire. "Suppose that makes sense. Anyway, what is it?"
"Ahh..." Lo Pei had to catch up on the conversation she'd stranded him to run off with. His voice was rough, like he'd swallowed sand. "Almost at Mo Ce," he admitted like he really, really didn't want to go there.
Raven put her eyes back on the glow. It had faded, but come again soon, implying some truly desperate situation, as Arzayanagi tended to solve several problems with a single use.
"Not a fan?" she smirked.
Lo Pei bowed apologetically, not that she looked. "I'm sure it's... a very nice prison."
"Lucky you, then," she chuckled. Raven raised one hand and pointed, straight out into the dark. "There," she said, the word coming out like a vow. "Change course. That way."
Lo Pei squinted at the horizon. He kept looking like he'd almost figured out what she meant. It was amusing enough that she was feeling less inclined to shout at him.
"My lady," he said cautiously, "there's nothing there?"
"Oh, yes there is," Raven turned her head just enough that he could see her eyes in the lantern-light.
Lo Pei wasn't going to argue. "Right," he said quickly. "Yes. Of course. That way."
No arguments, just the way she liked it when she was still fuming a bit at everyone. He hurried away, and Raven heard him bark orders with the brisk panic of a man choosing between "obey" and "overboard."
She held the rail as the ship began to sharply turn into the light. Raven stayed at the bow, watching the distant glow like it was a hook in the sky and she had finally found the line. She rubbed her aching thigh. "Heal already, damn it," she murmured. "And hold on..." she trailed off, not sure if she meant Zuko, or Aang, or Arzaya. Whatever it was, she certainly didn't want to miss it.
A third time light pulsed, brighter already—having gotten a mere half mile closer, and the calm seas generously allowed her to meet it with haste.
* * *
Zuko saw it too, like a wound on the horizon—unfamiliar to his banished eyes. Although it was not light the first caught his notice, sailing north from Mo Ce, he had sensed a strange heat whenever he faced east, even standing in his quarters. A prickle in the scar on his face. A heat pulsing in his chest, it was thick with a sense of powerful firebending, whatever it was. Something on the level of that slippery Avatar, he astutely surmised as he ran a hand through his also unfamiliar regrowing black hair, and tossed whatever attire was in arm's reach over his bruised and bare chest.
He shoved open the cabin door and limped out onto the deck before anyone could ask him why.
The night air bit at his skin. He ignored it. He ignored the ache in his ribs—easier actually with that odd warm pulse. He ignored the way his crew's voices stopped as he passed, the way their attention followed him like trained dogs tracking a ball, but they wouldn't move till he said 'fetch'.
He went straight to the rail and stared out over the water. The sea was dark. The horizon was darker. Then there it was! Like an early dawn, not quite where it should be.
"Has to be him," he hissed as he risked crushing the railing in a fierce clench.
It wasn't quite subtle. He was surprised no one else had mentioned it. A smear of firelight stood out where there should have been nothing at all. Too far to be lanterns, too steady for lightning, and it was some truly legendary power to be felt and not just seen from miles away.
Zuko turned about, seeing men unsure if they should be at attention.
"Captain!" he barked. "Change course."
The man hesitated. "Yes, Prince Zuko?"
"That way. Towards that," Zuko nodded towards the light, eyes sharp back on him. "Now."
The captain swallowed and glanced at the horizon, confused. "Toward's what?"
Zuko pointed. "The light! Are you blind?! It has to be the Avatar!"
The captain looked again, several men on deck also gazed that way, scratching their heads. They looked distinctly like they all believed he'd finally lost his mind.
"Er... I don't see anything, sir," he admitted.
Heat flared up Zuko's throat.
"You don't see it?!" Zuko repeated, voice low. "That orange glow lighting up the damned horizon?!"
"N-no, sir, sorry," the man said quickly. "But, uh, if you insist it's there…"
The crewmen exchanged looks. Quiet. Wary. The kind of quiet that said he was crazy. Zuko felt his hands shake immediately. He had no time at all for this. "I am not imagining it," he barked at them all.
A voice came from behind him, calm and tiresomely gentle. "You're not imagining it, Prince Zuko."
Iroh stood bundled in a robe, hands tucked into his sleeves, face tilted toward the horizon with an expression that was said he wished he was in bed still, but he'd make an exception for this. He looked older in the night, the lantern-light settling into the lines around his eyes, making his grey hair gleam whiter.
"You see it?" Zuko demanded.
Iroh nodded once. "Yes. Very powerful. I recommend caution in approaching such an awesome force of firebending."
Zuko's breath caught. Then anger flooded in to replace the brief, uncomfortable relief.
"See?!" he hissed, jerking his chin at the crew. "Now who's crazy?"
The men inarguably looked like they still thought both Iroh and Zuko were insane. Iroh let out a hearty laugh at their bewilderment. His brows rose as he smiled to his nephew, though. "You're not crazy, Prince Zuko."
"That's not what I asked," he said through his teeth, nodding to the captain. "Why don't any of them see it?"
Iroh sighed, as if even the sea was tiring him. He turned his head toward the crew, his voice carrying without effort. He had to stand and stroke his beard for a good long moment before he pieced something together, with Zuko hovering an silent insistence he explain at least something.
"When your betrothed's grandfather brought Arzayanagi to the palace, your father and I both sensed it before he arrived. But it was not this intense, or felt from so very far away," he slowly and deliberately stated. And he looked genuinely worried as he finished, "again, please be very careful, nephew. That man seemed, ah, most unstable in your presence."
Zuko latched onto an inconsistency instantly. "Arzayanagi? Lord Arza's in Omashu, uncle, he told us himself. There's just villages that way. Nothing worth the oh-so sacred spear. I think it's the Avatar. You said yourself it's different."
"I hope you are right," Iroh sighed. But there wasn't a heartbeat until he loudly commanded, "captain! Your prince has given you an order!"
The men reacted, and Zuko instantly turned back to the horizon. The glow pulsed again, distant and deeply foreboding. The way Iroh puffed up his chest a bit told Zuko he was feeling that odd inner warmth too. Something out there was giving the vibes of a volcano, and he didn't have a shred of fear gunning straight for it.
* * *
Aang was down on his haunches, holding Arzayanagi with both hands just under the golden spearhead, like he'd been trained to use it as wrong as possible, and he tapped it 'carefully' against arranged stones and piled kindling—the tip of his tongue pinched in his teeth for extra focus.
"OH! There were sparks!" he giddily didn't even glance up to announce.
"Yeah, that'll happen when you hit rocks with metal, Aang," Sokka intoned, bored and half sunk into an ash covered mound in the burnt out forest landscape.
Something—the Fire Nation, obviously, really—had left the land deeply scarred, blackened trunks reaching up like buried fingers. The ground was loose with ash and jet black leaves that crumbled into powder at a glance. The damage was recent enough that patches of green had not yet returned, giving a deathly and desolate feeling to all who lingered there.
Aang figured it was perfect, nothing to burn down on accident! He'd made a little stone circle campfire, Sokka got him some unburnt twigs, and Katara was being absolutely dramatic about the whole affair, honestly.
Still crouched, tongue shifting to the other corner of his mouth, he shifted his grip on Arzayanagi to something perhaps better suited to shovel-work. The fiery wraiths within rolled in their graves at the disrespect, quite literally, as he absentmindedly twisted the spear in his hands. They were perhaps more patient with a 12-year-old Avatar than they otherwise would have been.
Katara stood we-e-e-ell behind him, peaking out from behind a scorched boulder, but with her arms still crossed so tightly in disapproval that she looked like she was trying to fuse her own ribs shut.
"Aang, please stop doing that," she said, for what had to be the tenth time. "This is soooo reckless. You saw what it did at Omashu!"
"That was a whole like special attack or something. I don't think you can do that on accident," Aang didn't even look to reply, focused on the tiny shower of sparks he'd gotten again as he tapped the tip against rocks.
"Are you sure?" she plead, more looking for confidence at that point, any sign the mad boy wasn't about to blow himself to pieces.
Aang finally did look up, hearing the emotion he now saw on her face, but his features scrunched as he quickly said, "yeah, I'm sure I'm not going to make an artillery barrage on accident, Katara. Can you please stop distracting me?"
Sokka hovered beside her, hands on his hips, more in the open like he wanted to be the braver of the two, but still close enough he could dive for cover if they were suddenly swarmed by the angry burning dead. Eyes to the spear and then at Aang and then at the spear again, it was like watching a monkey juggle knives.
"I'm not trying to distract you!" Katara continued, voice rising, "you're acting weird, isn't he acting weird, Sokka?" She practically demanded he agree or suffer the consequences by tone alone.
He gently poked the spearhead into the pile of sticks. Nothing spectacular happened, but he seemed happy about a tiny wisp of smoke. He poked it the same way again. A little more confidently. A fuller wisp of smoke rose where the tip touched, as if the wood itself had gotten sick of him mucking about and just let him have it so he'd do something else.
Aang squinted. "Okay," he murmured. "So it can start campfires. Probably. That's a non-evil use for it, see?"
Katara's eye twitched. "It destroys cities, Aang."
Aang finally glanced back at her, expression earnest and slightly offended, as if she were being dramatic about a simple hobby.
"I mean, I could probably destroy a city too, I'm the Avatar!" he said like she ought to know better. "You're not afraid of me."
"I mean, I kind of am now!" Katara retorted, voice tight. "Why would you even want to make a campfire with that... thing?! You can just firebend when you learn it later!"
Sokka held up one finger like he was about to contribute something he thought was wise. "I actually," he said slowly with disbelief, "agree with Katara?"
Katara's head snapped toward her brother. "Well you really can't always be wrong about everything, can you!"
Sokka frowned. "I'm on your side."
Katara opened her mouth, then closed it again, because she didn't have time to fight Sokka and Aang and the spear that she was suspecting might secretly be the end of all that is. Aang was still all about poking that kindling, which had sputtered out after that curl of smoke, like their conversation was just background noise to his important scientific work. He leaned in, very serious, and tried to angle the spearhead the way to glance sparks off the stones and throw them into the dry twigs. He was almost even holding it properly.
"I hope it's not broken. It seems alive, or something. Maybe it needs… like… orders?" he whispered, as if the spear might hear him better if he spoke softly. He cleared his throat, and poorly mimicked an official tone. "Uh, listen up, you spirits and stuff. I'm the Avatar, and I need to light this campfire. Testing purposes. That's, like, an order."
Katara took a step forward, out of hiding out of sheer desire to make him stop playing with fire, so to speak. "Aang, don't mock the fire spirits, you're going to hurt yourself—"
"I won't," Aang said immediately.
He poked the kindling again.
Sokka and Katara had a quick contest to see who could shriek in higher pitch. The sharply vertical flash of white flames from the spearhead near touched the low clouds, Aang standing frozen beside it, his face buffeted by brief but stinging heat.
Aang nodded, cautiously lowering the spear and sticking the head into the ashes. Katara and Sokka stood there blinking from the painful brightness, hands clenched and mouths gaping, and he gave them a slightly nervous smile. "Okay, not broken. Testing was useful!" And he was back already to being infuriatingly upbeat.
"Aang, are you okay?!" Katara gasped, but quickly transitioned to: "Please just sto-o-op."
Sokka got closer than Katara was willing to, leaned in, eyes discerning as he looked at the glittering golden spearhead. "Okay, I hate that I'm saying this, but… it is kind of cool."
Katara stared at him like he'd betrayed their entire family line. "Sokka!"
"What?" he protested. "It's a spear of doom! It's supposed to do stuff like that! He can probably roast the Fire Lord with it, ya know, if he can figure out how it works."
Aang waved dismissively at Sokka. "'Course I can figure it out, Avatar Kyoshi said she'd teach me, I just have to... uh, I guess find another spiritual place to talk to her? That cave had bad acoustics or something, I dunno, she didn't last long there."
Katara pointed at Aang. "He has to stop poking random things with it! Come on, please don't tell me you're both crazy now!"
"You can stop saying that," Aang said with a flat gaze. "I'm done, I got it to work. Sorry I wasted your valuable time. We can go-o-o-o." He moaned like she was the most unreasonable person in the world and he hadn't heard a damn thing she said all day.
"Dang it, Aang," Sokka said just as flat as he strode up confidently to assess the damage. No trace of the twigs remained. "That was our actual campfire kindling, like for camp later? Now I have to go collect more..." And he was already trudging off for a slightly less burned patch of ground.
Katara ignored him. "That thing is not a toy, Aang! I really think you should just put it down, wrap it up or something."
Aang held Arzayanagi close to his chest with both hands, instinctive and tight, like it might fall away if he loosened his grip. "I said I'm sorry," he insisted, but she clearly didn't agree. "I just... Kyoshi made sure I got it. She wouldn't do that if I wasn't supposed to have it, right?"
Katara's eyes widened. "Kyoshi really told you to get it? Wasn't that your idea?"
Aang nodded eagerly, as if this were good news. "Yeah! Both! Avatars think alike! In the weird green cave. She showed me how to steal it right out from under Lord Arza's stupid nose. And she told me it can even affect spirits. You can't bend without your body, but she says you still can if you have Arzayanagi! Isn't that awesome? I could like... fight the Fire Lord without even being there! He couldn't even hit me!"
Katara's mouth tightened. It was deeply annoying her that he was making something akin to a valid point. "Well, then just stop messing around with it until Kyoshi talks to you again... please? It sounds like she didn't have time to explain things."
The worried tone in her voice finally got a look about Aang like he might have been being a jerk. "Oh, I mean, you're probably right Katara. I'll stop poking things, I promise. Unless Kyoshi tells me to later."
Katara had a long face like it would just have to do.
* * *
They glided down towards Senlin Village by late evening—Appa's weighty feet pawing for something solid to rest on as he let out his signature mournful bellow. Lanterns lit one by one in the fast approaching distance, and the cautious villagers were rather quiet and reserved in their business.
Aang was up front, one hand on Appa's reins, the other still on Arzayanagi.
Katara craned her neck to verify from the back of the saddle—crowded closer to Sokka than either would usually put up with—and she gave him the same displeased `he's still holding it!` expression she had been refining to perfection since they awkwardly left Omashu, having expected the Fire Nation army there to be far more of a bother to them personally than how things actually panned out.
"Okay," Sokka muttered, "I also think it's weird now. It's probably cursed," he sighed like it was just a tiresome sort of problem he'd dealt with plenty of times before.
"Probably? He hasn't let go of it for one second since Omashu!"
Aang leaned back, his face aimed at them upside down. His eyes were wide, rolled back, and he left his mouth gaping wide open like a corpse. "Ooooh, I'm possessed by the spirits of the spear! I'm gonna ge-e-e-et you!"
Katara was not impressed. "Then set it down for just a little bit, Aang," she fiercely stated. "Why not, huh?"
Sokka's gaze narrowed. "If that's really even him in there anymore." He stroked his lack of beard for good measure.
Despite not even acknowledging Sokka, Aang's dopey expression pursed thin and flat, and he righted himself to turn towards them both more properly to say. "Well you keep bugging me about it, so now I don't wanna."
"Oh, am I BUGGING YOU about the CITY DESTROYING SPEAR full of as you said yourself CRAZY VIOLENT ANGRY FIREBENDER GHOSTS? Well, maybe it would make annoying little me feel better? You're seriously scaring me," Katara damn near pouted, but she was just too mad to come across that pathetic.
Aang sighed like he'd been over it a million times—he hadn't—and argued, "I don't even know how Lord Arza made them come out! They're not, like, whispering in my ear, Katara." It was Aang's turn to look not impressed. "And you don't sound scared, you sound like you're mad I won't do what you say."
"When you get us all killed, Aang," Sokka breathed out and grinned like he was clever. "And like, the spear eats us. Katara is going to give you the most powerful 'I told you so' of all time. Are you sure you're willing to risk that?"
Katara raised an eyebrow at Sokka, seeing he was trying to help, but...
Aang deflated a bit. His expression softened a bit. The sass backed off a step. But he glanced forward again as Appa bellowed out a mild warning. "Well, we're landing anyway. I'll set it down once we have a place to stay, okay?" But he was already hopping with both feet stuck out over Appa's head to airbend himself gently down to a smooth stride, nearly right into an older and fairly serious looking man.
The man's relief was evident. "Are you the Avatar?"
"That's me!" Aang happily reported, but glanced at Arzayanagi held point down and stuck into the dirt, as if to ground it. "Well, sort of, unfortunately I was possessed by this evil spear of doom." His tone suggested it wasn't a very big deal, though.
He didn't even gesture or look to Katara, but she snapped anyway. "I didn't say it possessed you, Aang! Sokka said that! I just think you're being weird about it." But she suddenly halted herself, walked up to the man deliberately on the far side of Aang from Arzayanagi, and put on a nearly flawless polite smile. "Hello sir, I'm Katara, that's my brother Sokka, and Aang really is the Avatar, don't worry he's usually not this much of a jerk!" Her head cutely tilted sideways with her pleasant tone.
"O-oh..." The man, clearly the leader of Senlin village, seemed ready to assume that was all a joke. "Well, I believe you may have been sent to us by fate. Our village is in dire trouble, and only the Avatar could possibly help us."
Sokka tossed down a well-cushioned bag of their dwindling belongings. "Don't worry, I'll just get all this by myself." He flatly said.
"Thanks, Sokka!" Katara and Aang instantly replied, and both flashed a glare at each other.
The poor man scratched the back of his head, wanting very much to not stoke whatever teen drama was brewing before him. "Uhh... you see, there's this spirit..."
"Guys, I literally can't get the saddle off by myself," Sokka insisted as he tugged on it, gave up, and nearly dumped a bag on his own head by trying to hop up and grab it from Appa's side.
"THANKS, SOKKA," Katara repeated.
"Er, I'll figure it out."
Aang seemed downright eager, however, as he asked, "a spirit, huh? I can definitely deal with that!"
"I am glad to see your enthusiasm! But let me explain," the village leader raised both palms, a bit cautious.
"Of course," Katara oddly forcefully interrupted like she was possessed of the notion she had to assert herself for it's own sake or she'd somehow 'lose' whatever was happening. "We'd definitely want all the details before we just try something random and hope nobody gets hurt, right, Aang?"
"Ab-so-LUTELY, KATARA!" Aang smiled wide to somehow cheerily reply in raw annoyance.
The man had no words for a breath, but finally said, "I have never seen such, ah, enthusiasm for safety, I suppose." He waited another breath, to see if the weird kids would blurt anything else to disrupt him, but they seemed quietly ready to see what he had to say to use it as further ammunition against each other, so he took on a more serious tone to finally explain. "There is a local spirit: Hei Bai is his name. He was peaceful and timid for as long as any of us has known, but in the last few days he has begun..." and he gestured to a partially collapsed building—a lovely design so it was a real shame. "...attacking our village—he has abducted some of our people, no trace of where to!"
Aang's grin held for a heartbeat like a stubborn habit, then softened. He glanced past the man at the quiet lanes and shuttered doors. The whole of Senlin was holding it's breath.
"The Avatar is the only one who can calm such a great spirit," the man went on, careful, like he was asking someone to step off a cliff. "As the link between worlds, you can speak to Hei Bai, and bring our people back."
Aang straightened, the end of Arzayanagi resting point-down in the dirt by his foot. "I've never done that before," he admitted, then his confidence surged right back in, too bright for the dimming sky. "But it can't be that hard. I mean, I was born to do it."
Katara made a sound that was half groan, half prayer. "Aang…"
Sokka tilted his head, peering out at the village like he expected the spirit to pop out and pounce Aang for the irony. "If the spirit has hostages, we kind of need a plan," he said. Then, with the least helpful cheerfulness: "Like you can't just kill it," and he gave a pointed gaze to Arzayanagi. "But also we don't want to get haunted forever if you make it mad." He quickly glanced again to the half buried spearhead with gentle wisps of smoke rising from a thin layer of liquifying around it. "Again, anyway. Haunted again. No offense, spear of doom."
As if to answer, a bubble of molten glass popped with a snap—quiet but audible between speakers.
"We're not haunted, Arzayanagi itself is haunted, Sokka." Aang rolled his eyes as if it should be obvious and the well out of his depth village elder of Senlin instinctively backed away a single step. Aang's fingers tightened around the spear's haft, an unconscious clench. "But I can handle it. I'm the Avatar, and I'm keeping it away from the people who would do evil things with it," he went on like he was a bit offended, but then brightened again. "Anyway, Avatar Kyoshi told me herself that it can affect spirits," he insisted. "If Hei Bai shows up, I'll just… talk to him. And if he doesn't listen…" He patted Arzayanagi like it needed reassurance. "This'll scare the pants off 'im!"
Katara's eyes narrowed. "Or he'll just get even more angry. Or you'll get hurt. Or, realistically, most likely you'll blow all of us up, perhaps including Hei Bai, if a spirit even can be blown up."
Sokka blinked. "I mean he probably doesn't have to actually use it, just shake it at ol' mister people stealer?"
Katara again was utterly dismayed at Sokka, but Aang chimed in, "yeah! I promise—" He cut himself off to mutter, "I mean I don't even know how to attack with it—not like whatever that Lord Arza guy did."
The Senlin leader raised a finger and asked, "er, Lord Arza? Fire Nation Lord Arza? Is that actually... his? He's not going to come looking, I hope?"
"He seemed to think I should have it too, honestly," Aang shrugged. "Everybody seems to agree—except Katara."
"How is it a good thing if you're doing what that psycho wants, he would have killed thousands of people if you didn't save the day, Aang... which is great, but you're so, so weird since you got that horrible thing," Katara just vented openly as she physically gave up, just hunching forward with her arms hanging loose to dangle. "I really wish you'd just throw it in a hole where nobody will find it."
"We'll all agree after this, I'm sure!" Aang confidently said, but there was a hint of 'I know better' she picked up on and scowled back at. "You'll see."
The leader swallowed. His gaze flicked once to Arzayanagi's golden spearhead, then away as if their eyes awkwardly met. "Well, however you can do it, if you can help," he said cautiously, "we will be forever in your debt."
Aang's chest puffed up a fraction. "Okay," he said firmly. "Everybody get out of sight, I got this."
The sun was already sliding behind the thick ribs of the forest, staining the low clouds dull violet and bruised orange. Lanterns in Senlin brightened as the light died, little trembling suns that felt like they helped but weren't strong enough to protect anyone. Doors shut. Windows latched. Mothers swatted their children gently over the head for lingering outdoors at dusk, and dragged them inside.
Aang stood near the ornamental front gate where the path from the woods met the village edge, a perfect location for meeting two other worlds, he figured. The wind brought the smell of damp ashes and old smoke from the scorched trees a distance beyond Senlin.
Katara hovered out a window behind Aang in the village hall, tense and sure something awful was going to happen. Sokka lingered beside her with forced bravery and boomerang in hand, eyes darting everywhere like he was trying to catch the spirit sneaking up behind them.
"Sokka," Katara said quietly. "If it comes after us, all we can do is run."
Sokka just shrugged, like he might as well try.
Aang lifted his chin toward the dark tree line. "Hei Bai!" he called, voice carrying into the dusk. "It's me, your ol' friend the Avatar, probably! Were we friends in a past life? If not, it's not too late! Let's talk!"
Nothing answered but a wind rustling through branches.
Aang looked back at everyone, lifting his hands and unsure if just being there in Senlin might have spooked the spirit.
Then the air felt wrong. Not cold, not hot, just… thin, like the world had retreated away just a bit, but it did so to make room for something else. The space at the village gate rippled. Not like water, but cloth bunched up, then pulled taut.
Hei Bai stepped through in sileence.
He was huge, even bigger than Appa, and towering over the gate. He had the coloration of a panda, but the shape of him was wrong in a way that made Aang's skin prickle. His limbs were too long. His shoulders too narrow. His skull too prominent beneath a stretched, pale panda-mask of a face, like he died ages ago and never noticed he had rotted away but for skin and bones. His eyes were lost somewhere in the black patches, if he had them at all.
Either way Aang could sense expression more than see it: the hollow fury of terrible loss. It's presence was so intense that even as a true spirit, usually invisible to anyone but the Avatar, it could be seen by all, and the people quailed as they hid away further.
Katara sucked in a sharp breath. Sokka muttered, "Nope," as if that was a complete plan.
Aang stepped forward anyway, even if he had a little inkling that this... thing... might swallow him whole before he could react if it had a mind to.
"Hei Bai," he said, calmer now. "There you are, uh, did you come to talk—"
Hei Bai didn't even look at him. The spirit turned, lifted his head, and exhaled light. A ghostly breath poured from his mouth. Not fire, not smoke, but a pale, pulsing force that made the air wobble. It struck the wall of a nearby home and the stone and wood eroded as if ages passed instantly.
The wall collapsed inward with a crack and groan, roof sagging. Pots clattered. A lantern swung wildly and sputtered.
Aang's stomach dropped. "Hey!" he shouted. "Stop that!"
Hei Bai didn't stop. He took another step, moving with eerie smoothness, and drew in another breath.
"Oh no," Katara whispered, and her voice wasn't angry now, it was thin with fear. "That thing is gonna kill him!"
"I'm trying to talk to him!" Aang snapped back to Katara, and the sharpness in his tone startled even him for half a second. He lifted Arzayanagi like a pointer, like a warning. "Hei Bai! No need to fight, we can be friends!"
Still no attention.
Something hot, unreasonable, and bright flared in Aang's chest. Not the Avatar State, or his usual naive bravery. Something more… petty. More human. More angry. Hei Bai was ignoring him.
Ignoring the Avatar.
He was making Aang look like he was yelling at the wind, like he had no idea what he was doing. Despite the obvious danger, Aang took a step directly into Hei Bai's path, spear held forward, not thrusting, not attacking, just… blocking.
"Listen," Aang said, and his voice was too hard for a twelve-year-old. "You better pay attention, or—"
Hei Bai's head snapped suddenly, not to Aang's face, but to the spear. His massive claw lifted, slow and careless, like swatting a mosquito.
Katara's breath hitched.
"He's so dead," Sokka stated, and was attempting to vault the window sill to 'help', but Katara dragged him back.
"Don't be stupid!" Katara hissed, then cried out, "Aang! Get away from it!"
Aang didn't. He didn't even flinch, too annoyed to sense danger. Hei Bai's claw came down, and struck the golden spearhead.
There were no screams, there was no time. It was as if Arzayanagi was a loaded gun to its chest, and the trigger had been pulled. A blast of something like fire erupted, but it was already over. The pale, almost white, gold sheen of flames they saw was merely the aftermath, a translucent ghostly flame the likes of which had not touched the world, spirit or mortal, in over a thousand years. It didn't throw sparks or smoke, nor taste wood or mortal flesh, but it hungered for Hei Bai.
It had leapt straight into the raging spirit, a predator that was ready to pounce.
Hei Bai recoiled silently in shock, seeming weightless as it reared up taller than the highest roof and hovered inches off the ground. When it came down, there was a sound that wasn't a roar. A panicked, pitiful bleat. No anger, just hurt. And Aang saw licks of the ghostly fire clinging here or there to Hei Bai in furious sizzling wisps, but it just seemed to singe hairs.
Aang froze, mouth gaping at the raw beauty of the ghostly fire. Everyone was transfixed. Even Katara had eyes only for the shocking splendor of what she saw, giving her and the others a chill like finally making it to the magical vista of a hidden waterfall in the perfect light.
The flame didn't hurt the village or it's people, it didn't warm the air. All it did was bring tears to the eyes of mortals, and to Hei Bai... it brought pain like it was owed. Hei Bai staggered backward, paws scrabbling, eyes wide now visible and wide with fear, and as the motes of gilded fire persisted, his monstrous shape… faltered.
The too-long limbs shortened. The wrong angles softened. The skeletal tension eased like a knot loosening. Hei Bai shrank into an almost normal panda—still massive, still ethereal, but every ounce of threat was gone like a bad dream. Aang gave the spirit a raised eyebrow, tightening the corner of his mouth, like the dumb animal ought to have known better than to mess with him.
No one could speak. The fire was too beautiful in motion, the pale gold curling like silk in a wind mortals couldn't feel. And for one sick heartbeat, Aang thought: I am unstoppable.
Then Hei Bai turned. Aang's pride was gone.
A swath of Hei Bai's side was blackened, scored with red cracks, raw-looking even though it wasn't flesh exactly, as if the flame had peeled away the veil over that which was never meant to be seen by mortals. It throbbed, the agony of it so visible several onlookers clutched their own sides. The pale golden wisps still danced along the charred edge, slow and pitiless, refusing to let go until every last bit of harm could be done, the beauty of their light unable to mask their wicked truth.
Hei Bai's head drooped low, non-threatening. He huddled low, trying to make himself smaller, tail tucked, a pitiful animal noise catching in his throat.
Aang's stomach dropped through the floor of him.
"I… I didn't—" Aang whispered, and his voice cracked on the word.
Hei Bai backed away, the paw it swiped held aloft, charred so badly it was an unrecognizable stump. Limping, eyes fixed back on the spear now with terrified understanding, he didn't roar. There was no promise of retribution, only raw, helpless submission.
And he ran—vanished back into the forest like a shadow from the light.
As he disappeared, as if in a hurry to please, bamboo erupted from the ground near the gate in a sudden burst of bright green, fresh and alive against the grey darkness of the woods. And with it, figures stumbled into existence at lantern-light's edge, confused villagers blinking like they'd just woken from a bad dream.
Gasps went up. Names were shouted. People rushed forward, crying, laughing, clutching each other so hard it looked like they might become one. The village leader fell to his knees, eyes wet, hands shaking. "They're back," he breathed. "By the spirits… they're back."
Aang didn't move.
Katara had both hands over her mouth, eyes fixed on the place Hei Bai had vanished, on the lingering afterimage of pale, beautiful, torturous gold flame. Her expression wasn't anger anymore. It was something heavier, and far sadder.
Sokka saw the moistness of her eyes and swallowed, voice quieter than usual. "Aang… didn't even attack him. He hit the spear himself."
"I know," Katara uttered, barely audible, and she didn't need to say it didn't matter.
Aang's hands were still clamped around Arzayanagi like he'd forgotten it, and now that felt disgusting. Instantly he threw it to the ground at his feet, where it clattered on flagstones and rolled against a damaged stone wall. That set Katara, then Sokka after her into a sprint to meet him, like a breath of relief just scarcely too late.
"I tried to talk to him," Aang said, barely audible. "I wanted him to just listen, and he... and I got mad." His eyes stayed on the bamboo, on the returned villagers, on the joy that felt too loud for the shape of what he'd just done. It was obvious the people were too happy to have any mind of what had been done. "And then he… I wasn't going to attack... even if he did... I'm... I don't know," he trailed off, not sure how to put it in words but devastated by what he had done.
From the houses, more people poured out, the fear drained into relief so fast it turned into celebration. Someone grabbed Aang's shoulders and shook him, crying thanks for their returned son. Someone pressed food into Katara's hands as celebration broke out. Even Sokka wouldn't immediately take it.
"Our Avatar!" voices rose. "The village is saved!"
Aang stood in the middle of it like a statue of the Fire Lord in Ba Sing Se.
Katara's eyes met his for a moment, and it felt like being seen too clearly. She didn't scold him. She didn't shout. He already knew. But she looked… disappointed. It hurt Aang to look her in the eye, but he didn't feel he deserved to look away.
Sokka tried to help. "I mean... yeah, that was pretty brutal. But did you see that thing? Totally evil. It was like... already dead or something." But even he knew something was deeply wrong, glancing over at Arzayanagi innocently sitting still against the wall. "Er... who knows what it would have done with those people. Probably eat them, but like, eat their soul."
Aang's throat tightened until it ached. "I don't think Hei Bai was evil," he said, and the words came out like a confession. "I think he was upset about something. And now…" He swallowed. "Now we might never know what. I..." and he was on the verge of tears. "I can't believe I did that."
Sokka opened his mouth, ready to insist again the spirit deserved it, ready to shove the world back into simple boxes where monsters were monsters and heroes did hero things. But the look on Aang's face stopped him. Aang looked over at Arzayanagi slowly. He knew he couldn't leave it there, he knew it would be a mistake to leave it anywhere, but now he also knew why Lord Arza didn't hide it, secure it, or even attempt to stop him from taking it. He had it, but he really, really didn't want it. No one who understood it would. Even Katara who sensed the wrongness of what happened still didn't understand. He couldn't say it yet out loud, but knew knew: Arzayanagi liked that it caused pain. And it liked it a lot.
He wrapped the spearhead in cloth with careful hands, covering the gold like it was something shameful to display. Katara's shoulders loosened a fraction, like some invisible cord had finally slackened. She stepped closer, not to the spear, but to Aang, who looked desperate for something from her. Her voice was quiet.
"I'm… glad you put it down," she said. "I just… I wish it didn't take that."
Aang nodded once, eyes fixed on the dirt. He felt the villagers' joy around him like heat from a bonfire he didn't deserve to stand near. Far beyond Senlin, past the smoking scar of a forest that hadn't finished grieving, Aang thought of Omashu's blackened tier.
"Lord Arza's soldiers cheered for him too," he said, distant and lost. Katara blinked, and tears marked her cheeks. He went on softly, "I don't ever want to be happy about someone else getting hurt." He took a breath. "Not even a monster."
He looked down at the wrapped spear, and had no idea what to do with it.
* * *
The celebration didn't really end so much as it slowly ran out of breath. No one was willing to call it quits, not without a nod from the Avatar, but he was in no mood for nodding. People kept talking to him in that slightly too-loud way that meant they were trying to drown out the memory of terror with their own voices, a plea for assurance it was really over. He tried to smile at the right moments. He tried not to show pain when thanked. He tried to be the Avatar they wanted right now. Aang even pretended he was happy to tell them he was quite sure Hei Bai wouldn't be back, just once, and knew he couldn't do it again.
It all felt like wearing someone else's clothes. Perhaps something like black armor gilded with gold and a surcoat of grey. When a second person, just a girl a little younger than him asked if he was sure the bad spirit wouldn't take her brother away again, Aang gave the faintest acknowledgement, cleared his throat and said, "I, uh… need a minute."
No one argued aloud with the Avatar needing a minute. The leader just looked a little alarmed, as if Aang might vanish into the air and take their good fortune with him, but Katara stepped forward and gently put herself between Aang and the crowd.
"We woke before dawn," she said, polite at first, then with a voice firm in that quiet way that made people listen. "He needs to rest."
As the fifth round of freshly baked buns was foisted at them, Sokka added, "Also, we're not going to wake up tomorrow if you feed us anything else."
That got a few chuckles, and the villagers, eager to do anything for them, scattered to fetch blankets, tea, beds, spare mats, spare pillows, spare everything. Senlin's gratitude had some muscle to it. They were not going to hold back for the Avatar's return, for to them it already felt like the world was saved.
Aang used the moment to finally do the thing he'd been doing in his mind over and over since Hei Bai turned and showed him the burn.
He walked up to Sokka and held out the wrapped spear. "Hey, uh..."
Sokka blinked at it like Aang had just offered him a live, fire-breathing dragon. "Nope."
"Please, you're not a bender—it wasn't affecting you, I don't think—and you're the team's spear guy," Aang said, and there was no cheer in it. "Just… keep people away. Don't touch the head—"
"No kidding," Sokka flatly stated.
Aang drooped a bit, but with Katara puffing up behind him, Sokka gave a quick, "sorry."
Aang breathed out, saying, "not forever, just tonight. Until I get back."
Katara's eyes narrowed. "Aang, where are you going?"
"Not far," Aang said, but wasn't sure, it would be until something felt different, however long that would be. "But if there's any chance I can find Hei Bai, see if there's something I can do, it won't be here."
Sokka tapped the wrapped haft with two fingers, like it might bite him through the cloth, then sighed and took it from Aang. "It's vibrating, does it usually vibrate?" he sharply demanded, immediately looking ready to toss it on the ground.
"A little," Aang shrugged. "More after... what just happened."
"Oh, that's a great sign," Sokka smiled and nodded. "I'm gonna go bury it under non-flammable objects."
Katara watched him, her face tight, then stepped beside him anyway. "I'm coming."
"Isn't it maybe messing with your head?" Sokka cautiously said, trying not to sound insulting.
"Not you," Katara rolled her eyes. "I'm going with Aang."
Aang gave her a sad little look like he didn't think she'd want to go if he asked, making his non-chalant, "you can come if you want," another thing to make her crack a small smile.
They left Sokka in the lantern-light by the gate, spear held out and away like a little demon baby with a cursed diaper in need of changing. He muttered something to himself about how he was going to add "spearsitting" to his list of responsibilities for the next divvying. Then he crept off, looking down at the cloth-wrapped point and loudly whispered, "now no need for violence while they're gone. I lo-o-o-ove you, spear of do-o-o-om, whose a good crazy killer ghost spear, you are!"
Aang and Katara walked into the dim woods. They walked for a long while without speaking. Not because there was nothing to say, but because every word still had something wriggling and angry biting into it. But the farther they got from the village, the more the air changed. The ground underfoot went from packed village dirt to ash and cinders and damp, crunchy black leaves that collapsed into powder. The smoke-sweet smell of burnt timber got stronger, but a palpable tension drained.
Finally, Aang exhaled, slow. "I think it really was affecting me."
Katara didn't finally didn't struggle to look him in the eye, and smiled like the bad weird Aang was gone now, but before she spoke her throat strained. "I—"
There was a pause. "Yeah, me too," Aang tried to smile. Once the dam was open, his apology flooded out with gusto, "when I'm near it, everything feels—louder? Like every word you said was annoying—but, but, for no reason!—I'm not saying you're annoying, and it was so easy to just... snap at you, it felt so *right* to. Like the whole world was brighter, more real, but constantly sho-o-o-u-u-ting!"
Katara's mouth tightened with a faint smile. "You were really mean."
The bluntness of it made Aang flinch. Not because it was unfair. Because it was true.
"I'm sorry," he blurted, too fast. "I'm really sorry. I didn't want to be mean, I just… I felt like you were against me, like you betrayed me, and that made me so mad, and that's stupid, like you didn't do anything at all! It's so obvious now you were right, and I was acting like a jerk, and I…"
Katara held up a hand. Not to stop him from speaking, exactly. More like she was gently catching the words before they turned into a pile.
"Aang," she said, voice soft, "I was harsh too. It was definitely also messing with me."
Aang blinked at her.
"Seriously, I'm not mad, it's kind of embarrassing, it was just hard to say," Katara managed to almost evenly explain, and her voice was downright confident as she added, "you blurting it all out helped, though, thanks." She gave a chuckle too cute for Aang to take lightly, and he had no choice but to smile.
"So... all the spear's fault?" Aang offered out his hand.
Katara scarcely hesitated before taking it, giving a single chirp of laughter, and agreeing, "yeah, all the spear's fault. Let there be peace again between the benders of the Air Nomads and Southern Water Tribe—all two of us."
Aang gave her the weirdest but warranted frown.
"Sorry, that was dark," she quickly stated. "Still the spear."
"Yeah, the spear," he breathed. It wasn't.
They walked, both with churning thoughts but significantly less fear of strife. Katara's gaze stayed on upwards, on the highest burnt branches and the thin, bruised sky beyond. Aang kept to his own business with his eyes on the soot strewn forest floor. For a while, the silence between them wasn't awkward or angry anymore. It was present, but it was something like acceptance.
Katara finally hesitated. "We really left it with Sokka."
"I know." Aang hung forward in defeat. "We needed a break." He excused. "But something in my gut, like my Avatar gut, tells me it's a bad idea to just abandon it. I know that sounds like an excuse to keep it, but I seriously don't want it anymore Katara, I—"
"I believe you," she assured over him.
"Ah... well, awesome! You're the best."
"I'm glad somebody notices," she smugly flipped her hair.
"I keep thinking about Lord Arza," just fell out of his mouth, due to an unchecked abundance of feeling accepted. "Like… what if this is what he wanted? What if he let me take it because he knew it would… do this." He didn't have to say what "this" meant.
Katara's brows knit. "But he wouldn't have even known you were there until after we left Omashu, right?"
Aang took that into consideration. "If he didn't plan it... it still *feels* planned." He frowned. "Which really just makes it worse. I wish we knew a non-crazy firebender to ask about the stupid thing, at least."
Katara let out a slow breath. "What about Raven?"
Aang's eyes snapped to her. "Raven not crazy?" he let out a single laugh. "Anyway, she barely even talked to me," he said quickly, almost defensive. "She didn't… do anything bad, I guess? I mean she was kind of a... word, but she wasn't…" He trailed off.
Katara's mouth tilted faintly, not quite a smile. "Half-joking, maybe, or not," she said, "but… she's literally Lord Arza's daughter, doesn't seem to like him, and I think the spear is like, the symbol of her religion? And her dad is like the boss of the religion. So, she probably knows how it works." Her caution grew with every word, she knew the idea of handing that hotheaded pot of magma something as dangerous as Arzayanagi would mean the death of anyone who happened to be vaguely near Prince Zuko in short order.
"Uh... she can't hold it, though," Aang blinked as he tapped his chin in thought.
Katara's expression turned wary again, the sensible kind. "Aang. I want to say she's my friend..." she took a breath. "But spirits no, absolutely do not give it to her, never ever."
They both briefly and nervously laughed, imagining roughly the same consequence of people fleeing for the hills as Kyoshi village vanished from one end to the other in giant flashes of lethal fire. Raven cackling madly, and for some reason hovering menacingly high above with Zuko's death cry echoing into the mists, at least in Aang's version.
Aang's gaze dropped. "I wish I could just ask Kyoshi what to do with it, or why she even thought I should have it?" he muttered, not like he thought she had any answers.
They crested a small rise where the ground dipped down into the completely incinerated part of the valley, where not even a single blessed green blade of grass remained. That was when Katara stopped dead—Aang walked right into her, "oomph!"—she swatted wildly behind her, not trying to push him away but haul him forward.
"Look!" she gasped, pointing a finger to between the hazy black lines of ever thinner trees. A glow. Not orange, not like lanterns, not like fire.
White-gold. Faint, pulsing, curling into view and back like a breath, betraying something just further round the shadowy mounds of ash. Aang's heart kicked hard. The guilt, the fear, the anger, all of it shoved aside by one clear thought.
"Hei Bai," he uttered. He just started running, it was farther than it first looked, and it was fading fast.
"Aang!" Katara hissed, panic surging back into her voice. "Aang, wait!"
But Aang was already airbending, a burst of wind under his feet launching him down the slope like gravity had to ask him permission first. "It's him!" he called back, voice strained. "It might be my only chance!"
Katara scrambled after him as fast as she could, swearing under her breath, but Aang was faster. He was too fast. He was a streak of desperate motion with no plan other than please let it not get worse.
After whipping just barely round mound and pile, between spindly blackened trunks and shadowy clouds of drifting smoke, he nearly lost the light a half dozen times. He feared he might have as he landed at the bottom of the pit, skidding on ash to almost smash his nose on a pillar of stone. The glow was right in front of him now, faint and getting fainter, clinging to the base of a stone statue now looming over him. He scrambled up, and saw flickers of the ghost fire here or there amidst cracks and lines of etching.
A totem. Hei Bai's. I mean it was a panda, it pretty much had to be.
It stood half buried, old and stained with blackened charred moss, carved in likeness of Hei Bai with softened edges, the kind of weathering that meant it had been here longer than anyone living could remember. The eerie light seemed to be dying out from bottom to top as he scanned the structure. As he reached, it the fire seemed to recoil and go out faster.
"No," Aang whispered. "Don't run."
Aang didn't look back. He reached up to the spirit's likeness atop the totem, eyes fixed on the dying ghost-fire.
"Hei Bai," he said softly, voice thick. "I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know it would do that if you touched it either. I didn't…" He swallowed and forced the next words out like they hurt to say. "I didn't want to hurt you."
The glow flickered in pulses, then dimmed.
Aang's throat tightened. "If you can hear me… I'll help. I'll do whatever. I'll…" He didn't know what he could offer a spirit he'd burned. He didn't know what apology was worth in the face of agony like that.
The air felt… thin again. That same, breathless chill like something else was taking the place of the wind. Once again, even with his mastery of airbending, Aang shivered and clutched his arms close to his chest. Something was very present again, and his heart skipped a beat.
Then he heard it. A slow, delicate sound. Pitter… patter… Liquid dripping, pooling somewhere. Aang's eyes dropped, and at his feet, in the ash-dark soil, something gleamed. Gold. Liquid. Slightly luminous, like molten metal catching more than moonlight. Aang's breath hitched. He raised his gaze slowly up the totem.
A thin crack in the stone, just above the base, seemed to be… leaking. A slow rivulet of gold ran down the carved panda's rough approximation of a leg and into the earth like the statue was bleeding wealth. Feeling dizzy, Aang blinked hard, and the gold was gone. The statue was just stone again, no ghostly fire or gold, but that something taking up space just on the other side was so suffocating he had to think to keep breathing.
Aang stood frozen, heart hammering. It was another place of spiritual power! Of course! A spiritual vision came through and he hadn't even meditated yet. That was some serious business spirit stuff, he concluded as his fist hit his palm, and he dropped to cross-legged position like it was set to go off automatically.
Aang swallowed. The feeling in the air hadn't gone away. If anything, it had intensified, prickling against his skin like a storm charge.
"Come on, Kyoshi…" Aang whispered. "That's gotta be you again. Can already feel you... breathing down the back of my neck..." he went on, slower and sleepier as simply closing his eyes gave him a rush of more of that sense of spiritual presence, like sight was merely a distraction from it.
"I just want to talk," he whispered in a slight echo. "I just want answers."
The drip returned. He briefly scowled, it was always such a distraction for trying to get into the—oh right, it meant he was already there.
Aang opened his eyes. He was standing. He looked down. Yep, there he was again. Didn't miss a single hair on that dome, he nodded with approval. With one step, Aang's stomach fluttered with that familiar upside-down feeling of the Spirit World.
"Okay," he whispered. "Okay, I'm… here. But where is she?"
He looked up at the totem, and his eyes widened. The gold was there again, not a blink-and-you'll miss it glimmer. It generously poured from the cracks like slow honey, pooling at the base and running into the earth in bright, oozing trails.
Aang stood, transfixed, and cautiously reached for it. Something blindingly blue flashed above him. He jerked his head up and saw it, circling in the air above the pit.
"A dragon!?" he blurted out.
Not flesh and blood, but a ghostly blue spirit-dragon, long and serpentine, made of glowing light like moonlit water given shape. It moved with effortless grace, spiraling through the air as if weightless. The blue dragon's head turned slightly, looking down at him, and Aang felt the weight of that gaze like a mountain's shadow.
Aang's mouth fell open. "Whoa…"
Then something else tore through the sky. Like a replica cast in gold, a second dragon, larger, brighter, its scales like orange hot coins, its eyes like facted rubies. It lunged at the blue dragon with no warning, no flourish, no warning roar.
The two collided in a whirl of light and wind.
Aang stumbled back as the air filled with the sound of something like thunder muffled by water. The dragons twisted around each other, spiraling and snapping and grappling in a silent, violent dance, the blue light flaring as it tried to evade, the gold light surging like it wanted to consume, but it seemed neither ever actually quite harmed the other.
Aang stared up, awestruck, genuine smile. "Do spirit dragons… do this a lot? Is this a welcome party?"
A gust of wind whipped through the pit, lifting soot and ash into the air in a swirling cloud. Aang threw up an arm instinctively to airbend, then realized with a blink that it didn't sting his eyes, and that he couldn't do that anyway. He lowered his arm slowly, and his gaze, having stepped away from his mortal body.
His own body was standing now, eyes glowing, face completely calm, but he could feel the focus on him.
Aang's heart leapt. "Kyoshi!" he blurted, words spilling out. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry, I was messing with the spear, and then I hurt Hei Bai, and I didn't mean to, and I think it's messing with my head, and I don't know what to do with it, and—"
"Aang."
The voice was feminine but firm. Not quite loud. But it hit his name like a hand on the back of his neck, stopping him mid-flood. Aang snapped his mouth shut, but squeaked, "yes, ma'am!" out a corner.
"You fear you have killed a spirit," his own body with the wrong voice said, and it sounded… ancient and powerful. Measured. With a slight rattle that spoke of something like age, but different somehow.
Aang swallowed. "I burned him," he whispered. "It was awful. I didn't even really attack, and it still…"
"Spirits are not like mortals," the voice cut in quickly. "Pain for them is very different. Death is almost impossible. And although few could, Hei Bai is a spirit who knows how to mend himself of such an injury."
Aang's shoulders sagged with a relief so sharp it almost hurt. "He does? Really?" Wanting to believe it more than anything.
"Tricky things, spirits can look more wounded than they are," the voice said, and there was something almost… dismissive in it. "Some will even make their suffering obvious. Sympathy is a tool. Quite effective on you."
Aang hesitated, frowning. "Hei Bai didn't seem like he was… pretending."
"You do not know what they're like," the voice replied immediately, almost scolding. "His fear was real, greater than you can understand—spirits, you see, are rarely exposed to mortality, and they have no stomach for it. I assure you, his pain was a shield, nothing more. But there is an important matter to discuss," she resolutely stated after speaking like it would be the last time questioning it was a good idea.
Aang swallowed, nodding because it sounded wise, because it was what he wanted to hear, because the alternative was sitting in guilt forever. Above, the dragons tore through the sky again, the blue one flaring brighter as it twisted away.
Aang saw his mortal body looking up as well, so asked, "is it an important dragon matter?"
The voice followed his gaze, and for the first time there was a subtle shift, like something behind the calm was slightly relieved.
"The blue dragon is Fang," she said. "The lingering spirit of Avatar Roku's animal guide."
Aang's eyes widened. "Roku's dragon?"
"Yes," the voice said. "And if you are wise, you will go with him."
Aang's mind grabbed at the new thread like it was a rope out of a burning building. "Roku! Right! He's a firebender! He'll really be able to help with the spear!"
"Arzayanagi," she flatly corrected, like it's proper name ought to be used. "It is wise to speak of it with respect," she clarified, trying to sound less harsh.
"Er, yeah," Aang guiltily replied. It really did seem like a good idea to not piss it off, as strange as that sounded.
"Roku knew Sozin—he knows the Fire Lord's plans," the voice cut right back to the point. "And how to thwart them."
Aang nodded quickly, eager. "Where? How?"
"Crescent Island," the voice said. "There is a temple. There is a way to speak to Roku there."
Aang's breath caught. "I have no idea where that is—oh—Fang will show me? If that other dragon doesn't eat him?" He glanced down at his hand, as if he ought to be grasping it. "Oh, and what about Arzayanagi?"
The glowing eyes fixed on him. "You must keep it," the ancient voice said, and the words landed like a weight.
Aang's stomach sank. "Do I ha-a-ave to?"
"You do," the voice said flatly. "But only until you reach Roku."
Aang breathed out so much it would have hurt if he had a physical body. "Oh, thank the spirits, I really don't want it anymore..." he moaned. "Thank you, Kyoshi," he downright wailed at the mere prospect that he could rid himself of the cursed thing so soon. "I was so sure you were going to say I'm it's guardian now, I was just gonna hand in my avatar badge or something, I dunno. Like, no-o-o-o thank you."
"I remind you, it is wise to speak of Arzayanagi with respect," the voice replied, considerable emphasis on the last syllable. "And do not leave it unattended for long. If it is ignored, it will punish *someone* for it."
Aang's skin prickled. Poor Sokka. He really hoped the spear was less sensitive than Kyoshi was making it sound, because Sokka was definitely not going to be speaking respectfully about much of anything.
"Now, this is important. You must listen and remember," the voice continued, precise, clipped with urgency now. "At the temple, there is a door. It is difficult to open by ordinary means: it requires five firebenders."
Aang's face fell. "I don't have even one firebenders."
"You have the greatest firebending artifact ever forged," the voice said, unable to hide slight impatience. "There is a gem set into the door. A large red gem, do you understand? All you must do is touch the spearhead to it."
"Uh, sure," Aang blinked. "That's it?"
"Yes," the voice said. "It is a secret alternate way to open it. You will speak to your past life, and you will be relieved of Arzayanagi, and the Fire Lord's ruin will be assured." There was no shortage of venom in that last bit, but Aang couldn't really blame her after seeing half of Omashu go up in smoke, even if it was a bit intense.
"I'll do it," Aang said quickly. "Aaaahh, that's so easy compared to what I imagined. Go to a temple, touch tip to gem, problems get solved. This is great! You're the best, Kyoshi!" He eagerly replied, hopping on the balls of his spirit feet.
For a heartbeat, the Spirit World seemed to ease around them, the pitter patter of gold slowed, the intensity and flashes of the dragons dancing or maybe fighting above slowed and dulled.
He voice softened just a fraction, like it was both tired and relieved. "I cannot remain longer," it said. "The lingering energy of... this place... nearly gone. You... go, Fang... will..."
Aang waved gently. "Bye Kyoshi!"
The voice didn't answer again. His mortal body simply stood there, inert like a puppet. It was pretty creepy, honestly, so he was glad when the blue light of Fang was suddenly right in front of him. He glanced up, saw no sign of the golden dragon who had suddenly accosted him, and turned to marvel at the regal visage of Fang: thin wiry mustache like tendrils, polished scales and rather impressive horns—not that he had much to compare to.
Fang dipped, sweeping lower and exposing his side, like he was offering a ride. Aang wasn't going to say no to that.
The Spirit World fell away beneath him, and he was flying, clinging to blue light and wind, the ground far below a smear of ash and darkness. Fang carried him over black forest, over cloudy pitch black ocean, over the curved silhouette of an island shaped like a crescent clawing out of the sea. A temple rose there, even the black walls gleaming bright in the clearer skies and sharp moonlight. Aang's heart thudded with certainty. Fang showed him Roku's chamber, the beam of light that would soon line up. This is it. This is how I fix it.
The world thinned as he rushed back to his body on Fang's back. Before he was even settled back into himself, a voice, sharp and real, cut through everything.
"Aang!"
Aang's eyes snapped open.
He was standing there right where Kyoshi had left him, specks of ash clinging to his clothes. His head swam like he'd just surfaced from deep water. Katara was in front of him, hands hovering as if she didn't know whether to shake him or hold him or run. Her face was oddly pale in the fading strange lights he still saw.
"Aang," she said again, and her voice was too tight. "Aang, what were you doing? Who *was* that?"
Aang blinked, still half in the feeling of flying. "I was meditating," he said, then pushed a sheepish smile that didn't quite work. "Sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just… I needed to talk to Kyoshi. But I did—" he yawned and stretched his back, then scratched at his shoulder, which for some reason got a sharp glare from Katara.
Her eyes darted around, and she stepped unusually close, not like he was complaining. Aang kept blinking away the distant feeling. "What?"
Katara swallowed. "There was someone here."
Aang frowned. "Yeah, Kyoshi, like I said? She spoke through my body while I was out. You must have—" and he felt like kind of an ass for yawning again already. "Heard her speaking?"
"No," she grimly state. Katara's voice dropped even lower. "There was someone standing behind you. As I was running up."
A cold prickled over Aang's skin. "Not... Kyoshi?"
"Not Kyoshi," she repeated, voice shuddering. Aang instantly scooted even closer, and the two naturally formed into a very spooked embrace. "Sh-she looked at me... had a weird headdress or mask or something? Vanished when I blinked? You didn't... talk to a spirit like that?"
He twisted, looking back at the pit, at the totem, at the darkness. Nothing moved. The white-gold glow was gone now, fully dead. The air felt normal again, as normal as ash and silence could be, but the darkness now felt full to the brim with predators.
"Katara, there wasn't anyone like that, not that I saw," Aang said like he really didn't want to. And his pitch was downright high on terror as he peeped, "I think maybe I got back to my body just in time?" And like he truly regretted it, he asked, "what was she doing?"
"She had her hand... on your *shoulder*," Katara admitted like she was about to stream tears of fear and they both shuffled together back towards the road, not wanting to separate quite yet, and both so mortified the thought of intimacy flew right over their heads.
Aang's mouth went dry. "Katara—" he croaked, tapping his shoulder. "I can feel it still."
There was a crack of a twig somewhere, probably just the breeze causing a dead burnt branch to fall, but...
"Let's get out of here!" Aang shouted, popped out his glider without the slightest flourish, and leapt instantly into a sprint as he tossed it, let it circle back, and he took to the sky.
"AANG, IF YOU LEAVE ME HERE I'LL HAUNT YOU FOREVER!" Katara screeched in half-mad terror fury, which is a rare emotion to achieve.
But she gasped out high-pitched, "oop!" as he clumsily but responsibly spiraled back to sweep her up, and fly off-kilter for a significant distance, back out of the burnt wasteland and into the merely soot strewn green forest, where they both touched down on poor balance, each catching either side of the same sign post to stop and slapping chest to chest right into each other with a mutual, "oof!" And each with a hand on his glider like she still feared he'd leave her behind.
"Are we far enough?!" Katara whispered like she wanted to wake the dead, causing Aang to recoil in disgust.
"Shh! Listen!" he hissed, maybe a bit quieter.
She didn't shh at all. "Promise me you won't go into the Spirit World alone again! What the, who the heck was that?!"
"I won't! Not after that, but hush!" he insisted, gesturing like he was begging.
"Oh!" and she covered her mouth, wide-eyed like she was a fool. They both looked back whence they came, fingers coming loose from the Senlin signpost and lacing each other's as they accidentally sidled in something of a Tango for a few steps, silently as possible.
Aang's breathing eased. He nodded. Bolstered by the fringes of lantern light. "Okay," he said, and wanted to believe it. "It's go—"
*Snap.*
Katara shrieked, Aang shrieked wide-eyed and spooked by her sudden outburst. Katara retorted by cranking volume in a reckless warble as they practically climbed over each other to race for the light, doubled over and gasping the instant they were inside the village gate. A few stragglers still awake and unwilling to stop partying looked over with big smiles, dumb on a bit of wine.
"Knew he'd be back if we waited! Come on, Avatar! Saved the last bok choy for you!" said an older man whose beard, eyebrows and mustache were competing for 'most fluffy'.
The two looked at each other, and breathed out a nervous laugh, the sort of, "we just imagined that, right?" laugh. But they knew they didn't.