The Avatar Saga—Azula’s Redemption
Chapter 3: of Daring’s and Darkness
By Flamehead23a

Disclaimer: I don’t own avatar, nor any character affiliated with the show, I do own The White Phoenix, however. Please don’t use this story as your own, nor post it other places without my approval. Reviews welcome, critiques scrutinized, and flames absorbed and redirected with twice the power. Please, Enjoy!

“The deal was that we would wait until he turned eighteen. We’d tell him at fifteen and help prepare him for the work.”
“I’m sorry, the Old Mans’ already been told. He’s expecting a replacement come morning—not me.”
“Max, please. He’s just turned thirteen—he hasn’t even had a childhood yet!”
“It’s out of my hands now. Have him ready by dawn. The Old Man always starts things with a sunrise.”
                                                       …./…./…./….

“…The White Phoenix!” Zuko’s introduction filtered back to Mat as he walked towards the entryway.

“Ahh… man, Mai is right. These summits are really, really boring.”

It was a curious man that walked through the tall double-doors and into the cavernous main hall. Curious in that he was at the same time both unusual, and unremarkable. The first thing one noticed upon seeing him was the color of his hair and eyes—red and green respectively. His skin was pale and freckled, with a clear complexion and no apparent scars. He normally stood taller than everyone in the Senken save Aang, but at the moment was slouched to the point where his height became indiscernible. He was built, but not spectacularly so, and his current melancholy didn’t work to highlight his gymnast’s physique.

He wore what he always did when visiting here—a black undershirt beneath a sleeveless white haori, trimmed in lined with red. His pants were white as well, also trimmed red. Red bands rested on his forearms—to keep sweat off his hands, he would say. Completing the outfit was a black sash around his waist, cinching his haori almost closed. Tied at the side of the hip, the sash was plain black silk save for a stylized golden sun emblazoned at its end—inside that, the Phoenix’s symbol was stitched.

Normally the combination of red hair, green eyes and white clothes would have stood out quite a bit, but with Matthias it was not so. At the moment, everything about him seemed faded, dull. As he gazed out to the audience, it was blatantly clear from the circles beneath his eyes that he hadn’t been sleeping well. Nothing about him spoke of nor contributed towards his famed reputation. In fact, if he had not been introduced with such fanfare it was highly probable that Mat would have been able to sit and eat an entire meal without anyone speaking to him; such was his current unobtrusiveness.

Murmurs of confusion began stirring among the crowd. Mat remained still, his hands in his pockets and his apparent disinterest in the entire affair evident. “You don’t think… ” Suki’s voice held disbelief. “He’s had a week to plan this thing. I mean I know he’s been a little distant lately but…”

“This is Mat we’re talking about here.” Zuko said. “He might be a little lazy, but I’m sure he’s got something planned.”

“Well, thanks for, uh… All the hard work you’ve done… I, ah… Well, unfortunately, I don’t really have anything planned.” Mat’s voice cut through the crowd.

“Oi…” Sokka slapped his forehead as politicians began voicing their discontent.

“Didn’t I tell you I found him asleep, Snoozles?” Toph laughed over the complaints. “I can’t believe you’re all surprised.”

“Mat, do this!” Trying to catch Mat’s attention, Aang conjured up his air marbles and jumped up onto his chair, waving his hands around. “Seriously, it works every time! Just show them this!”

“Aang, will you sit down! Besides, you’re the only Airbender, remember? I’m pretty sure air marbles are a little beyond everyone else.” Katara pulled her boyfriend back into his chair. “And sorry to tell you, but that has got to be the most useless trick in the world.”

“Now, now,” Mat waved his hands for quiet, managing to lower the volume in the room from an angry roar to discontented grumbles. “You all were told you were gonna get a demonstration of my powers, and it’s only fair that I make well on that promise. But before I do, I have to explain a little science first.”

Mat paced the stage while adopting a professor’s tone. “Now, every object in the universe is made up of other, smaller objects. A castle is made up of smaller bricks, bricks are made up of mortar and shale—the list goes on.”

“Even the air we breathe is actually made up of smaller things—bits of dust, tiny particles and different mixtures of gass.” The audience was losing patience—mutters stirred again. Ignoring them, Mat pressed forward.  “Everything you can taste, touch, see, smell or hear is made up of the tiniest of particles, called molecules. Most of my powers center around is the agitation of these molecules to produce heat and ener—”

“We didn’t come here for a lecture!” A voice rose over the crowd. Admiral Chan, commander of the Fire Navy’s Eastern Fleet, rose from the table. He was a severe looking man, bearded and fearsome, and he looked condescendingly up at the stage. “We were told we would be treated to a show by the mighty White Phoenix, not bored to death with dull scientific drivel from some layabout the age of my son.”

Zuko made to rise from his chair but Aang stayed his hand. “Let’s see what Mat does,” Aang smiled. “I’ve got a feeling he was counting on something like this happening."

“Deepest apologies, East Admiral.” Mat bowed low, only the faintest trace of sarcasm escaping his voice. “It’s just that most of my powers require another person to actually demonstrate. I can’t really show what I can do unless I’m attacked.”

“Well,” Chan swayed in place, his over-indulgence of Fire Wine dreadfully clear, “If it’s a threat to your person that’s needed, then you are in luck. My son has just placed first in the national Agni Kai tournament, and would be more than happy to aid in your ‘demonstration.’ Chan! Get up there, now!”

“I warn you, Admiral. Keep a reign on your son.” Zuko spoke from his seat. “His Agni Kai’s carry a reputation, and I won’t have any members of this summit indirectly hurt by excessive attacks. No bending, whatsoever. Is that clear?”

Chan rose from the table and strode to the front of the hall, where Mat was waiting with a small smile. “Not to worry Fire Lord, I will restrain myself. It’s not in me to ruin such a treasured figure like the Fire Bird.”

As he reached the stage, the difference between the two fighters was clear. Chan was a young man in his prime, taller and more heavily built than Matthias. The muscles in his arms bulged as he cracked his knuckles, his look bloodthirsty. It was obvious how Chan defeated his opponents—with overwhelmingly brute force.

Sokka whistled. “Looks like he’s got four inches and at least forty pounds on Mat.”

“You don’t think Chan could beat him, do you?” Mai asked.

“Oh, no way—it’s just going be really funny watching this guy get his butt handed to him.”

“Are you sure you’re ready for me, Phoenix?” Chan smirked, taking his stance. “I haven’t lost a duel in ten years.”

“Oh, I’m not too worried.” Mat gave a half-grin, “Tell you what, Channy—if you can manage to lay a hand on me, I’ll give you my title.”

With a roar, Chan charged. He threw his whole weight behind a punch, and seemed primed to hit Mat square in the face. Mat hadn’t assumed a stance or even brought his hands out of his pockets before Chan’s fist had closed the distance and was mere inches away from his nose. But, just when everyone expected to hear the crunch of fist-on-face, Mat pivoted slightly to the left and allowed his opponent to sail harmlessly by.

“If you don’t mind,” Mat called to Chan without even turning to face him, “I’m just gonna continue with the lecture. Feel free to keep coming at me though—at least it gives the crowd something to watch.”

Chan advanced, faster this time. Furious, he threw a flurry of punches and kicks aimed at every part of Mat’s body. Sweeps and thrusts, chops and slices all came at Matthias with blazing speed. But through it all, Mat barely moved from his place at center stage. Shifting his body only slightly, he continued to keep his opponent from even touching him.

“Now,” Mat resumed his speech in the same disinterested tone he was using earlier. “Like I was about to say before Admiral Fire-Wine over there set his son loose on me—my powers revolve around heat. It’s not bending, as many here who have seen me fight are first inclined to believe. I’m able to create, alter, and absorb forms of heat through sheer force of will. It’s an offshoot of a discipline I learned known as Psychokinesis—I call it Pyrokinesis”

“Rrraaghh!” Chan jumped into the air and sent a flying crescent-kick straight down at Mat’s head. Mat cocked his head to one side and let his shoulder fall, effectively dodging the kick without moving at all. He turned to face his opponent just as Chan was twirling himself off the ground and advancing again.

Backwards, circles, sidesteps—using his own opponents movements, Mat worked Chan back towards the wall without touching him.

“You’re all probably wondering how I’m dodging all of Chan-Junior’s punches here. Everything a person does—every step they take or punch they throw—must be thought of beforehand. An electric signal, a little spark of lightning, is sent from Junior’s brain to his hand before he punches.”

Mat grinned as he ducked beneath another jab. “The thing is, I can feel the heat that electrical signal makes. I see it, and can thus react to the punch before it happens. So poor Channy here has a better chance of stealing a Saber-Toothed Moose-Lion cub from its mother than he does laying a hand on me.”

With a scream, Chan sent a spinning kick meant to catch the Phoenix in his side. Mat simply shifted his weight back and the foot sailed harmlessly by until it connected with the wall Chan had been backed up against, without even knowing it. The heel of his boot met the wood of the wall and with a crunch—his foot was stuck ankle-deep in the side of the room.

Mat turned his back and made his way to his seat. “Of course having fighting experience helps too—like I’m reasonably sure without needing to feel the rising heat behind me that Channy is going to break the Fire Lord’s no bending rule right about…”

With a vicious thrust and a livid shout, Chan freed his foot from the wall and threw it forward, sending a stream of flame right at Mat’s back—and the unprepared guests at the table.

“Which brings me to another part of my powers that I spoke of before—heat absorption.” Spinning around, Mat placed his arms in front of him and concentrated. As the jet of flame raced closer it contorted, narrowing and finding itself channeled into his palms. Mat was absorbing the blaze directly into his body.

“See?” Toph grinned at an amazed Deputy Governor sitting next to her. “Fire-Snatcher.”

Enraged, Chan sent wave after wave of fire straight at the crowd. Blasts and whips of flame flew at a feverish pace. Again and again the crowd flinched, expecting each torrent of flame to be the last thing they saw. But every degree of heat, every ember created, was caught and absorbed by the White Phoenix.

After several minutes of continuous bending the strain finally proved to be too much. With one last shout of rage Chan fell to his knees, exhausted. Mat put his hands back in his pockets, hiding the flash burns that came from quickly absorbing flames without the proper preparation.  Toph thought back to when he first explained his powers to her.

“I’m not fire-proof, Bandit.” He had said, using his nickname for her. “I’m fire-resistant. Skin wasn’t built to absorb fire, so I gotta convince myself it’s completely one hundred percent possible to pass flames through my hands before I can start the process. It’s a mind over matter thing—if I will it enough, it happens. But it’s not easy to just do it on the fly.”

Slowly, he turned back to the audience. Before them was the Phoenix they had heard about, the Phoenix that stood with the Avatar and Fire Lord against scores of soldiers. Terrible and fearsome, his hair was the blazing red of a volcano’s center. His eyes were a vibrant green, the color of emerald lightning. When he opened his mouth to speak, his breath came out in a jet of steam. “And that concludes my exhibition. I hope you all enjoyed it, and learned something tonight—namely, to never trade blows with a Phoenix.”

The crowd erupted in applause. They were no strangers to the art of Firebending—many had been on the giving or receiving ends of attacks just like the ones Chan had sent at Mat. However, those attacks had always been deflected or dodged, never absorbed. There was no doubt in their minds that if Matthias Musagetes could absorb fire, he could send it back just as easily. He looked over to his friends and smiled. Soon he was laughing, the natural high of combat and showmanship finally bubbling through whatever stress had been plaguing him.

Chan’s eyes rose, and through the applauding masses, found his father. The old admiral met his look with clear eyes and a sobered expression. After holding Chan's gaze for a long moment, the admiral turned from his disgraced offspring and joined in the applause.

He could contain his rage no longer. From his knees, Chan reached for a wickedly curved knife strapped to his shin. With all the wrath he could bring to bear, he hurled the blade at Mat’s back.

“Absorb this!” He shouted through the applause.

Toph felt what was happening. She “saw” the knife leave Chan’s hand, but she couldn’t see it while it was in the air, and she didn’t have time to form a solid stance and raise a wall of earth between Mat and the spinning blade. Worse, if Mat dodged, it would likely connect with one of the politicians applauding him at the table.

“And In five years,” she remembered, “he’s never taken a hit unless it was to defend someone else.”

Toph felt the pulses around her quicken. They saw the knife—they could do something. They could save him. “Quick! Stop it!” She cried, her voice shrill.

The sound of the blade hitting home silenced the room in the space of half a heartbeat. Toph paled and turned back to Mat, expecting to feel him fall at any moment. Katara took her hand. “Relax Toph,” She whispered to her terrified friend. “He winked.”

“Well,” Mat smiled, facing a now terrified crowd. “I wasn’t expecting to have to show off this little trick tonight.” As he turned to Chan, the crowd gasped. For all intents and purposes, the knife appeared embedded in his back—sunk at least halfway in. “You’re a pretty crafty sonuvabitch, you know that?”

“Ha…hah…How?” Chan was breathing heavily, the ire in his eyes replaced with disbelief. “You didn’t dodge the blade… I saw it sink in. How are you still alive?”

“All in good time, Junior. All in good time. For now though,” Mat cracked his knuckles, “why don’t we situate you so you can’t endanger any more of the Fire Lord's guests, hmm?” Mat swept his thumbs across his fingertips, producing four snaps with each hand in rapid succession. Sparks flew from his fingertips and out of nothingness, small flames caught above his thumbs. Opening his hands, the flames moved to his palms and enlarged to fit neatly inside them.

“What you’re seeing here isn’t totally fire.” Keeping his palms flat, Mat rotated his hands in small circles, forming flattened disks out of the flames.

“It’s a sort of plasma/fire mix, pulled into this plane with help of another skill I’ve been taught—Metacreativity.” With flicks of his wrists, he sent the constructs spinning at Chan.

The Admiral’s son crossed his arms over his face, his intent to block the blasts, but was taken off guard as the disks connected with his wrists. Instead of dissipating, the fire seemed to encircle his wrists and continue traveling backwards towards the wall, taking him with them. The fire cuffs embedded themselves into the wall, shortly followed by two more cuffs for his feet—pinning Chan against the far side of the hall with his limbs spread.

“Sokka,” Mat turned to address the audience with the knife still in his back. “Be a dear and tell everyone about that theory we were working on concerning the solidity of air.”

“First of all, I’m not your dear.” Sokka grinned. “And second, I discovered a while back that heated air lightens and expands—which is how we get War-balloons and Airships to fly. After you told me about molecules and how when they’re heated they move faster and farther apart, I got to thinking… If you had air in a contained area and kept pumping in heat, would the molecules eventually move fast enough that they actually seemed to be closer together rather than farther apart? Could extremely hot air slow down another object, because the air was moving around so fast the molecules bounced into the other object more than they would at room temperature?”

“As many of you know,” Mat took up the thread now. “Sword Master Sokka is also a mechanical and conceptual genius. When he isn’t cracking bad jokes, that is.” Mat shot a smirk back to his Water Tribe friend who half-heartedly made a retort under his breath, saying something that made those in earshot roll their eyes.

“I’d been thinking along those lines for a while, but never had the brains to get the measurements right. But thanks to Sword Master Sokka…” Mat reached behind him and withdrew the blade from his back. “It works like a charm.”

The first three inches of the knife, the part that had appeared embedded into his back, had been melted into twisted, gleaming metal. “Obviously, the air within the ‘heat shield’ is pretty hot. Sorry Chan,” Mat called over his shoulder, “I don’t think you’ll be stabbing at anyone till you get a new dagger.”

Mat approached Admiral Chan and dropped the remains of the blade at his feet. “Your son lost the minute he attacked with anger.” He said quietly, “Admiral, you have the chance here to fix some serious psychological damage. Please, take your son and—”

“That is no son of mine!” The Admiral spoke loud enough for his son against the far wall to hear. “I disown him! Never again will his dishonor stain my own.” Chan turned to Zuko, his face stony. “I apologize for my disruption Fire Lord, and will return back to my post in the Colonies at first light tomorrow. I bid you good night.” Bowing, the Admiral left.

“Escort Chan to his father’s ship,” Zuko stood, signaling the close of the night’s festivities. He motioned several guards to the disgraced fighter. “Instruct the Admiral after he has had time to cool off that he should reconsider his decision. I’ve seen nothing but pain come from disownments such as this and wouldn’t wish it on anyone, especially not a family of the Fire Nation. Mat, would you…?”

“Oh, yeah, heh… sorry.” Mat lifted his hand and absorbed the fire cuffs back into his body, leaving Chan to fall on his knees for the second time that night. His eyes never left Mat’s back, even as the guards brought him roughly to his feet and led him out a side exit.

“Thank you, everyone. I wish you safe travels back to your homes. Let the spirits and Avatar guide us.” Zuko resumed speaking to the crowd. “We officially declare the Fifth World Policy Summit adjourned.” Zuko and Aang chorused in unison. They bowed formally to the assembled audience, who bowed back and begin to filter out—to their apartments for the night, and their homelands in the morning.
                               ………………………………………………………………………

“I gotta say Mat—that was one of the best shows I’ve seen you do. Like, ever.” Sokka was laying his head in Suki’s lap, snacking on Blubber Seal jerky. “I’ve gotta admit, I thought for a second there he had you. Not because he was that good, but because it looked like you had let him get a little too close.”

The Senken had retired to the royal living chamber, a much more intimate room adorned with rugs and pillows, furnished simply with a single low table to kneel at. Aang was sitting back-to-back with Katara, feeding nuts and berries to the ever-hungry Momo. Katara was combing her hair while watching Toph and Mai play Pai Sho. The table was specially made—hewn from stone so Toph could feel the different pieces. Zuko busied himself fixing tea while Mat was huddled against the fireplace—wrapped in a heavy blanket and periodically scooping flames into his palms.

“Well, it wouldn’t be very entertaining if I didn’t add a little suspense, would it?” Mat smiled when a stray lychee nut bounced to his feet. He palmed and roasted the nut before holding it out for Momo. The winged lemur purred as he was scratched beneath the neck and gave a chatter of appreciation before zipping back to Aang.

“True, true,” Sokka continued. “And when you said, ‘Namely, never to trade blows with the Phoenix’? Ha! Classic.”

“Yes dear, we were all there, we all saw it.” Suki pulled her fingers through Sokka’s hair. “What I’m impressed with is how you two managed to hide that ‘Heat Shield’ technique from the rest of us. I thought I knew everything you were working on...”

“Ahh, Suki, my sweet, I’m like an Iceberg—only a tenth of my genius is viewable. Everything else is hidden beneath the ice-cold arctic depths.”

“Unfortunately, Sokka hides it so well sometimes he can’t find it.” Katara quipped.

“We kept it secret because it’s not really ready yet.” Mat shivered, pulling the blankets tighter around him. “It takes a lot of energy to heat air to that level, and even more to keep it contained so close to my body.” Mat drew more tongues of flame into his palms, reducing the fire to softly glowing coals. “All I know is I’m lucky Chan decided to bend his little heart out before he threw that knife.”

“And you’re even luckier he didn’t have a second.” Aang added.

“I still can’t believe you all didn’t tell me he had it under control.” Toph said, laying another piece on the board. “I nearly had a heart attack when I thought the knife connected.”

“We just wanted to see how you would react.” Mai laid a piece of her own. “I think it’s cute you worry about him.”

“Hey, I could care less about Bird-Boy.” Toph’s long bangs hid the blush that tinged her cheeks. “I just didn’t want a bunch of politicians stampeding because of a dead body. It’d have ruined my dinner.”

“Wow Bandit. It’s such a comfort to know I rank lower on your appreciation scale than clams.”

“What can I say? They probably taste better.”

“Really? Wanna go to my room and check? I could light some mood candles and everything.”

“In your dreams, Poultry.”

“Ohh,” Suki said. “And this round goes to the Earthbender.”

The group chuckled. Conversations such as this were common whenever Mat came to visit. Between Toph’s acerbic wit and Mat’s unabashed ego rested an endless cycle of insults and off-color insinuations—almost every encounter ending with Mat being launched into the air via pillar of earth.

“Its people like Chan and his father that keep me tied up in the Capital.” Zuko moved about the room serving tea. “As long as firebenders continue using anger as the source of their inner fire, the nation will never fully be at peace.” He collapsed at the Pai Sho table and leaned against Mai, pecking her on the cheek.

“You’re getting through to them. Lessons given by you and the Avatar are the most attended in the city,” Mai said, giving his beard an affectionate tug. “You can’t expect to change the country overnight, Zuko.”

“She’s right.” Katara said. “Change comes slow—I still get looks from some of the more stuffy tribesmen when I go north to give lessons.”

“I know that. But I thought that after five years I’d have made more progress. At this rate, I’ll never be able to really settle down, or—”

“Go looking for your mom?” Mat said quietly from the fire. All activity in the room seemed to pause. Zuko’s mother was a touchy subject—the last time it was brought up, the palace maintenance had a whole wing to repair and Sokka had a heavily singed eyebrow to re-grow.

“Yeah… go looking for Mother.” Zuko looked into his teacup and fell quiet. Mai pulled him closer and rested her chin on his shoulder. “It’s my one loose end from the war. The one thing left unfinished from my past. I don’t even know if she’s still alive but somehow… I can feel her. I know I can.”

“Zuko…” Aang said. Momo ran to the young Fire Lord and settled into his lap.

“…Mat, how’d you know I was going to bring up my Mother?” Zuko looked to Mat at the fireplace. “Last I checked, you couldn’t read minds too.”

“The first time I came here, Pythia hinted that my real work wouldn’t begin until after my title was reclaimed. I think after the war is what she meant.” Mat stood from the ruined fire and moved to a window. “It sounds kinda bad, but I think my first few trips here weren’t really to help you beat Ozai—You all seemed pretty capable of that on your own. Rather, I think it was to gain your trust.”

Mat signed and leaned on the windowsill, looking out into the night. “For the past month I’ve been dreaming…dreaming about a great darkness on the horizon. I feel all the elements in this darkness—they’re tainted somehow, like the bending is inherently evil.”

“That’s impossible.” Aang spoke up. “The elements aren’t good or evil, they’re not even sentient.”

“But certain disciplines of bending sure seem evil…like Bloodbending.” Katara said quietly.

Mat nodded. “They’re definitely being used in a way we’ve never seen before. In the dream, there are four… things, piercing through darkness. One is a white flame taking the shape of a bird… I think that’s me. One is a swirl of colors and symbols—reds and blues, greens and yellows—that’s got to be you all, the Senken. One is a fire Nation hairpiece. A single tongue of flame, wrought of gold.”

“That’s Mother’s hairpiece!” Zuko said. “It was never found after her… after she disappeared.”

Mat's smile grew grim. “I recognized it from her portrait in the Grand Hall.”

“Well that must mean she’s still alive! She’s alive and hiding somewhere.”

“If she’s been in hiding, why hasn’t she come back since you took over?” Katara asked.

Zuko lost some of his smile. “I…I don’t know…”

“Regardless,” Aang said. “It seems finding her is more important than ever.”

“What about the last symbol?” Toph asked.

“It wasn’t a symbol… it was more like a montage of images. It starts as girl wreathed in blue fire. First she’s laughing with madness in her eyes. Then it shows the same girl in cuffs and chains. She’s shackled and caged, like a dangerous animal. Her eyes are vacant, empty…a void.” Mat shook himself, as if trying to cast off a chill or a particularly bad nightmare.

“After that I see two things in quick succession, like alternate paths. I see her wreathed in white fire, at the head of a parade in her honor. She’s happy and all of you are waiting at the end of the parade with smiles. When I follow this path the darkness is burnt away, I feel nothing but peace. I wake up, and all is good. But when I follow the other path…”

Mat was regaining the faded, weak appearance he had shown before dinner. “I see her lying on the muddy earth, cold rain pelting her face. I see… I see a huge wound in her stomach. A great gaping hole—I can see clear through her body to the bloody ground she’s laying on. Worse than that—she’s all alone. Her eyes… I feel the light fading from her eyes in the cold rain…”

The room had grown silent; Mat looked like he was going to be sick. “And when the last of her life fades away the darkness overwhelms me. Pain races through my body like I’ve never felt before— it’s freezing and burning and cutting and bludgeoning all at the same time. Then the dream ends.”

Mat looked up from the floor. He seemed smaller somehow, spent. “You all know I haven’t been getting much sleep lately, so you can guess which way the dream normally ends.” He managed a weak smile. “It’s times like this I wish I paid more attention in Clairsentience class.”

The group was quiet… the impact of their friend’s dream sinking in. “This darkness… when is it supposed to get here?” Aang asked.

“I don’t know. It could be a day, could be a month, maybe a year. This is the longest I’ve spent in one place since I started this job, and to be honest it’s making me a little edgy. All I know for sure is that it’s coming and that somehow Zuko’s Mother is part of it. As well as…”

“Her.” Mai breathed.

“Yeah.” Mat turned back to the window, looking out over the palace. He looked beyond it—over the city beneath the palace, past the bay it was built around. He looked past the Great Gates of Azulon and over the mountainous terrain of the Fire Nation mainland. The Phoenix’s green eyes seemed to pierce all the way across the ocean, to a forsaken prison cell on a remote island north of the room the only people in the world he trusted were relaxing in. He looked out, and a name escaped his lips. So soft that only Toph, as was her curse, could feel and make sense of the vibrations his sigh had made.

“Azula.”
                                                  …./…./…./….

                                             Here ends Episode 1
                                  Μαυ τἑ Σἱνινγ ονε λιγ-τ τἑ παθ.