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Chapter Text

Fire. Air. Water. Earth.

After Wan became the Avatar, the lion turtles renounced their roles as the protectors of humanity. The spirits had been sent to live in their own realm, the portals to the human realm sealed behind them. Almost every lion turtle village had since been abandoned as people ventured out into the rest of the world, gratefully accepting the gifts of the elements from the lion turtles for the last time. Never again would humans need the haven of the mighty beasts; never again would they travel back and forth from danger to safety, returning their bending abilities to the lion turtles again and again. No, the bonds between humans and their gifted elements were permanent now; they could strive for mastery, for the ultimate connection and oneness with their element, learning from each other and the other creatures with the same fantastical powers. From the North Pole to the South Pole, people began to settle in environments that best suited the abilities they had gained from the lion turtles they had left behind – with the establishment of the Avatar, the world had entered a new age.

Many lion turtles took up exploring as well, diving deep into seas, soaring high above mountains, even tunneling through deserts and volcanos, communing with the earth, air, fire, and water, and the original benders of them. In the steep, jagged mountains to the far East, one air lion turtle still housed a village of several hundred: the very last lion turtle to carry a village of humans. He was isolated from the rest of the world, content to drift through the looming peaks, united with the wind, the original benders of it, and his human companions. When he gave his people the power of air, he did not take it back again; he enjoyed the way they floated and flew over him, their spirits connected not only through their shared environment, but their shared element. Humans, mortals with dreadfully short lives, as infinitely complex as they were individually different from one another, were admired by the lion turtle, who would not know death for a long, long time. Of course, the humans felt equal reverence for him. He instilled in the people of his village that their lives and the lives of all living beings were sacred, and they lived as such, never daring to take another life. The people were free to wander as they pleased, living nomadic lives, befriending the air bison native to the Eastern mountains. Still, many regarded the village as their permanent home, a place to rest, meditate, commune with nature and the spiritual energy surrounding it, and master the power of air.

As human conflict ravaged the world on the other side of the Eastern mountain range, the Avatar trying time and time again to quell the surges of violence that never seemed to end, the great beast and his village lived in peace. Wan visited the air lion turtle of the Eastern mountains many times, desperate to learn how he might end the constant clashing, the suffering that followed. Nevertheless, it proved to be impossible to make every individual sympathetic to the sanctity of existence in such a rapidly evolving world. Even at the end of his life, Wan couldn’t stop the unhappy feuds which robbed the world of so much light. The Avatar died on the battlefield, feeling as if he’d hardly made any difference at all. Despairing at the human world’s lack of peace following his decision to send the spirits away, Wan, in his last moments, wondered how the human world could ever possibly achieve harmony.

~fourteen years later~

The sun shone through the dense persimmon trees in a way that could make even the sternest soul feel giddy. A gentle breeze tickled Tsering’s nose as she reached up on her tiptoes to grab one of the lower-hanging fruits. The air is being so kind today, she thought, closing her eyes and enjoying the sweetly-scented wind. Still unable to reach even the lowest-hanging persimmon, Tsering scrunched her face and inhaled deeply, moving her arms in wide circles and raising them to muster a small cloud of air under her feet that carried her up into the tree’s branches. She grinned, exhaling as she plopped onto a thick branch and plucked the biggest of the orange fruits in her line of vision. The intoxicating sunlight filtering through the trees dappled her mahogany skin as she held her ripe harvest to her lips, the pale patches of skin she was born with glowing in the light. Tsering had hardly finished chewing her first bite when she heard several pairs of running footsteps accompanied by a powerful gust of wind that nearly knocked her off her perch.

“Gyari, get back here! That’s my diary!”

Laughter, and a few more slices of air in Tsering’s direction. “Oh, Lobsang, you must be mistaken! It was in my bag, so it must be mine!”

“If it’s yours, then why are you running?!”

The children burst into view: a very small, very fast girl with a mischievous grin and a small book clutched to her chest, pursued by a boy almost twice her height with a bright red flush in his pale face. Tsering sat up onto her knees, smirking at the sight of her two peers as they ran in her direction. One was always chasing the other, it seemed. The boy thrust his long arms out in front of him, sending a whirlwind of air whipping towards the nimble girl. It caught up to her faster than he could, and the girl yelped, one of her feet slowed in the flurry. She bent her knees, blasting herself up into the air, a flash of chestnut and auburn. With one hand still gripping the diary, the girl extended her free hand to grab the branch directly below Tsering, swinging her small frame up onto it with no extra energy spent – it was clear she had executed this move before. Not noticing Tsering above her, the girl promptly flipped open the diary and began to read in an exaggerated voice. A sweat had not even broken out over her brown skin. Meanwhile, the boy, exhausted from the chase, staggered at the foot of the tree, his hands on his knees as he tried to calm his breathing.

“’…And so, I continue to fear that the demise of Avatar Wan has led to the downfall of the world’s last hope for peace. Will the light spirit ever be seen again, and if so, when will she show herself?!’”

“Gyari, stop,” the boy pleaded through labored breaths. He looked up and saw Tsering, high in the tree, staring them both down. “Tsering! Please do something! That’s my diary she’s got!”

Tsering was chilled by the rendition of her peer’s words. She had just dreamt of Avatar Wan that previous night, and it hadn’t been the first time. She was told he’d died in the same year that she was born; she had never met him in the physical world, but she certainly had in her slumber. He had been running, towards or away from something, she didn’t know, when he had abruptly stopped and looked right into her eyes, his sharp face awash with emotion. The ensuing quarrel below Tsering snapped her out of her thoughts.

“If it’s yours, why don’t you come get it yourself?” Gyari called down to the panting, red-faced boy below them, unconcerned with Tsering’s presence. Before the boy, who was regaining his composure, could bend any more air at her, she changed her mind. “You know what? Here, you can have it. I’ve read the whole thing anyway.” Gyari tossed the book unceremoniously, just out of Lobsang’s reach. Groaning, with his lanky body still leaning over in fatigue, the boy bent a raft of air under his diary as it fell, sailing it quaintly into his grasp.

“Why must you taunt me every waking moment of my life?”

Gyari laughed. “Because no one else will, that’s why,” she said matter-of-factly. It was true. Lobsang was well on his way to becoming the first master Airbender of their peer group. Clearly, he still had more to learn about patience, because he looked about ready to blast Gyari right out of the tree.

Tsering thought about what Yu had said to her earlier that very same day when she had asked him about a tiff between two of her other peers. When two individuals fail to see but their own two perspectives, it may help to offer them the space in between, he had remarked thoughtfully. Tsering smiled as she remembered her wise friend’s words. She inhaled deeply again, letting herself fall backwards off her roost as she bent another whirling cloud to guide her feet to the ground. Gyari started at the move of confidence – Tsering may not have been the leading Airbender in their cohort, but her and Lobsang were both certainly more skilled than her. Feeling all too aware of being the least adequate bender present, she bristled in insecurity.

“Hey, we’re all friends here,” Tsering spoke with a lighthearted tone, trying to sound wise as she landed beside Lobsang. The boy inched away from her instinctively; she didn’t notice.

“Let’s not ruffle each other’s robes… at least not too much.”

With a lighthearted chortle in her throat, she smiled with sincerity, first at Gyari, then at Lobsang, an expression all too familiar to them as one of their peer group’s most prominent peacemakers. Tsering opened her mouth to speak again, but the smaller girl only scoffed and rolled her eyes.

“Friends? I wouldn’t say we’re friends,” Gyari retorted defiantly, spinning around and launching herself from the tree, charging away from Lobsang and Tsering with leaps and bounds: the negative jing of a true Airbender.

The comment stung. The two girls had never been very close, given that Gyari was a few years younger. Still, Tsering had been all too aware of how she and the rest of their peers “subtly” excluded her from group activities around the village, the way that their eyes darted down to look at her abnormal skin, fractions of seconds of stares that felt like millennia to her. Would any of the children in the village say that they were friends with her? She glanced down first at her left hand, then at her right foot before her gaze hit the ground. Despite hours of meditation to try to instill self-acceptance, the moon peach-colored skin that covered her whole wrist and hand except her thumb, ending in large, pale freckles constellating her brown forearm – with a similar pattern repeating over her foot – may as well have had air bison fur sprouting from it.

“She doesn’t mean that,” Lobsang offered weakly as Tsering stared at the ground.

She felt his hand hover over her shoulder, considering a reassuring tap, before it fell away without making contact. Was this really her life? A village of people who were perfectly comfortable with physical affection struggling to touch her? Tsering shook her head, forcing herself to clear her thoughts away, a pile of leaves blustered out of a clearing.

“It’s okay,” she said, looking up into Lobsang’s eyes, his expression twisted in awkwardness. “She’s right. We’re not friends. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being kind to her.”

Sometimes, when air children entered adolescence, they developed an aura of rebellion against the tranquil atmosphere that the villagers worked so hard to maintain. Tsering herself had had an almost identical streak of stubbornness and malcontent a few years ago, and though she had tried her best not to take it out on others, she understood what Gyari was assuredly going through.

“Anyway… about what you wrote,” Tsering started carefully. She didn’t want to tread too far into the subject of Lobsang’s personal writing, which had already been exposed to at least two people who were younger than him. He flushed again at the mention of it. “Do you really think that the Avatar’s passing is the end of the world?”

Lobsang sighed. “Listen, you weren’t alive to meet him. I was only three, but I remember the day he came to the village. There was a bad storm, but he was unfazed. He bent the water and air around him like it was nothing; if he got wet at all, it wasn’t obvious. When the rain stopped, and we were soaked and shivering from standing outside to greet him, he bent the water right out of our clothes and bent us a huge fire to warm us up. His power was incredible. And he spoke with the lion turtle for a long, long time. How many of us can say they have ever even had a full conversation with it one-on-one?” Tsering carefully suppressed any reaction to this.

“Anyway, Raava didn’t show herself then, but we could all feel her presence within him. He was practically glowing. And now he’s gone, and no one knows where the light spirit is now. Did she die with him?” Lobsang looked like he could cry. Tsering could tell he’d spent a lot of time pondering the subject. Opposite what he had – or, well, hadn’t – done moments ago, she put her hand on his shoulder, smiling genuinely at his pained expression.

“I don’t know. But I do know that we’re very lucky to be where we are, safe from war and violence. We’re very lucky to have Yu.”

“Huh? Who’s Yu?”

Tsering’s heart pounded in her chest at her slip-up. She couldn’t betray the secrecy she had sworn to herself, not to someone like Lobsang. He may have been one of her peers who she was the most civil with, but she still felt in her heart that she couldn’t trust him. She had seen his lingering glances down at her skin as well, after all.

“Um… I mean you, Lobsang. You’re on your way to becoming the first new master in forever. Pretty soon, you’ll have your tattoos.”

Lobsang beamed at her, delighted by the sudden flattery. “Thanks, Tsering. I really hope I’m worthy of the title.” Whew. Tsering smiled back at him, trying to subtly calm her racing heart.

“You actually kind of look like Wan a little bit,” Tsering commented vaguely as she turned away from him, hoping to end the conversation quickly with some meaningless small-talk. “If you didn’t shave your head, people might assume you’re kin.”

Lobsang stared at her in astonishment. “How do you know what the Avatar looked like?”

Tsering cringed as she watched Lobsang speaking in hushed tones with three of the four head abbots of the village in the old wooden pagoda where they frequently meditated. It rained lightly. The sweet scent of damp earth would normally soothe away her worries, but this time, she was too preoccupied for the musky aroma to relax her. Occasionally, one of them would turn their gaze to her, surveying her. So, what if she had seen the Avatar in a few dreams before? This is why I don’t tell anyone anything, she thought despairingly, cursing herself for saying anything to Lobsang at all. She had yet to figure out the meaning behind these dreams, and was certainly not ready for anyone else to know about them. Eventually, a hand gestured for her to approach the group. Tsering, who was usually lighter than the air around her, felt each step with a weight that she was not accustomed to.

Tsering only ever entered the pagoda for guided meditation sessions with an individual Airbending master, usually Sister Miksha. She had never been here for any other reason, nor with three, almost four, masters sitting around her, all observing her quietly. She squirmed; usually, when people looked at her for a long time, they were probably looking at her skin, wondering why she was different. Finally, Sibling Aarav spoke, their tone soft and even.

“There is no need to feel nervous. We simply want to know what you saw in your dream,” they murmured. Tsering focused on where the blue Airbending master tattoos came to a single point above Aarav’s bushy eyebrows.

“I saw Avatar Wan running. I don’t know where he was going. Then, he stopped and looked right at me, looking like he wanted to tell me something. I always wake up before he says anything.”

“Always? You have had these dreams before?”

“A few times, yes,” Tsering replied. Aarav’s calm voice had soothed some of her anxiety, but she still felt a bit like this was an interrogation. I have not done anything wrong, Lobsang can just never keep his mouth shut. Ironically, the boy said nothing now; he looked lost in thought, his pale eyes fixed somewhere in the distant mountains. A herd of wild air bison floated by the pagoda, their fur painted scarlet in the light of the sunset as it poured through a gap in the rainclouds. Tsering wished she could be out with them, released from this conversation and from the pull of gravity.

“Hmmm.” The abbots considered her testimony. Miksha was also quiet, but she was looking at Tsering with compassion. She smiled at Tsering as their eyes met.

“We’d like for you to have an extra meditation session with us every week,” Brother Norbu said mildly, sensing her tension. “You are not in trouble. We’d simply like to guide you toward looking further inside yourself and finding the source of these dreams. It is a very curious thing that you dream about such a significant person who you have never met before.” With a pale hand, he stroked the part of his face where a beard would grow if not for shaving daily, his dark brown eyebrows furrowing in contemplation.

Tsering nodded, relieved that this was the outcome of the meeting, instead of more prying questions or worse. Had she expected to be punished?

“I understand. Thank you,” she said curtly, rising to leave.

Tsering felt unexpectedly gloomy after the meeting with Lobsang and the abbots. She couldn’t quite place where these emotions were welling up from; sure, Lobsang had ran and told the abbots something she hadn’t yet wanted anyone to know about, but it had turned out alright, hadn’t it? Tsering tried practicing meditative breathing as she walked away from the pagoda, but her mind only felt increasingly clouded with uncertainty. The rain had picked up, and when she gazed down into a puddle, she halted, blinking hard. Had Wan’s reflection been staring back up at her for a moment? Why am I seeing the Avatar everywhere?

Now, Tsering only gazed back at herself, her metallic reflection in the light of the full moon distorted in the circles of raindrops falling on the water. Her gaze fell to the left side of her face, where her bronze skin met cream. As she had done so many times already in her life, her eyes traced the outline of the patch of pale skin that extended from the corner of her mouth to her jaw, covered the left side of her neck, and sloped back up her trachea to the middle of her lower lip. They don’t want me to look inside myself, they just want to study my outside, she decided angrily, dashing the water as she turned away. She wanted to go and meet Yu, to laugh and chat while they ate persimmons together like always. It was only after she had taken several paces away that she realized the puddle of water had been splashed without her touching it.

Chapter Text

The sun’s light seeped ephemerally into the early morning sky. Tsering watched the rose-gold hues overtake the indigo night from her bedroll, wondering if she had slept at all, or if she had ever even been awake, if her life up to this point had been a waking dream. My first “extra” meditation day. She pondered the day ahead. Like the rest of the Air Nomads of the village, Tsering spent hours out of every day in meditation, but she had never been hesitant to attend a session before now. What would these special meditations yield for her, if anything? Her eyes fell to the small wooden tray beside her. Inside it, her only material belongings: the four toys she had acquired many years ago as a young child. All air children in the village were traditionally gifted a toy crafted by the monks and nuns when they began to bend air. Tsering’s gift had been a small clay turtle, made and given to her by Miksha. The other three toys, a wooden hog-monkey, a small hand drum, and a pull-string propeller, she had made herself. She kept them around out of sentimentality, though she no longer played with them and didn’t consider them an earthly attachment – if they were lost, her wooden creations could simply return to nature. And, after all, if they lasted, maybe they could be passed along to entertain other air children someday.

Tsering took extra care to not wake the other young girls in their sleeping quarters as she slipped on fresh robes and tiptoed into the brisk air. Not every Airbender preferred to go without shoes, but she liked the feeling of nature under her bare feet. She inhaled deeply, reaching upward to stretch the sleep – or lack thereof – from her limbs. I love dawn, she thought, smiling up at the softly lightening sky. The air was so deliciously crisp, she wished she could bite into it like fresh fruit. Tsering, willing herself to feel at ease about the day ahead, spun around with her arms extended and jumped, generating a whirl of air that surrounded her and helped lift her an extra foot or two into the air. She landed back on the ground on one foot, the other crossed over her bent knee, her hands clapped together. Tsering loved basic Airbending exercises, and not just because they came relatively easily to her.

The morning is the most precious time of day, especially for an Airbender, Miksha had once remarked at the beginning of a guided meditation. Tsering could not agree more. She could sense the moisture in the air, could just about feel each dew drop as it formed along her path back to the meditation pagoda. Her stomach grumbled, and she angled towards a moon peach tree, plucking one of the fruits to munch on as she approached the pagoda. It was a bit chillier here near the edge of the village than in front of the girls’ sleeping quarters, and turkey-duckbumps scattered across her arms. Aarav and Miksha were seated there, waiting for her in the lotus position. Their eyes were both closed, and they were completely still except for their shoulders as they rose and fell in calm, deliberate breaths. From the looks of it, both were keeping warm using the Airbender breathing technique which could change one’s own body temperature. Tsering silently joined them, facing them and mirroring their crossed legs.

“You’re early,” Aarav murmured, their eyes still closed, an edge of surprise in their voice. Tsering nodded. Between the three Airbenders, a few sticks of incense burned in a small urn.

“Let’s begin,” Miksha said, opening one twinkling eye and smiling at her. Tsering smiled back, understanding this meant for her to close her eyes as well. I’m ready. A mild stream of air flowed between the wooden support beams of the pagoda. Miksha used the breeze to whisk the incense smoke around them. All three Airbenders seemed to breathe in synchronization, the morning sky tinting their brown complexions in gold.

“In this session, we’re going to focus on your roots,” Miksha began. Though her eyes were closed as well, she could practically see Tsering sitting in front of her, listening intently. She already knew the girl’s background, a relatively common one among air children – her young parents were traveling the world on a journey of spiritual enlightenment, having left their child in the care of the monks and nuns of the village. Whereas some parents chose to live in the village in a private family hut with their offspring, many children among the Air Nomads lived communally, like Tsering. Although air children raised by the monks and nuns did not often discuss their parents, it was not a hidden subject; after all, most children still had relationships with their blood relatives, and many of their parents still lived in the village, where they studied and trained to become spiritually enlightened masters. Miksha had no children of her own, and seeing that Tsering’s parents had been gone for nearly half her life, both regarded each other as their chosen family.

“Block out the branches, all the little leaves and twigs, and focus instead on the roots deep below the surface. Airbenders may live free from earthly attachments, but it is still important in maintaining balance to reflect on what grounds you. Meditate on where you come from, contemplating any memories of your past that happen to surface.”

Tsering turned her eyes inward. The incense smoke whirled around her. Memories flashed through her mind: her first persimmon, having plucked it herself, her father holding her tiny frame up to a branch with strong, protective hands. The first time she had looked at her reflection, after another air child pointed out – without malice, merely in observation – that her face, hands, and feet were two different colors. Meeting Yu for the first time as a young child, giggling in excitement at befriending someone who was willing, happy even, to look at her, who shared her passion for fruit and cultivating tranquility. The first time she finally beat Miksha at Pai Sho about four years ago, a rare occurrence that had only happened a few more times since then. Seeing her mother and father off on their journey around the known world, tears in her eyes, clutching her clay turtle as her mother bent down to kiss her forehead and remind her that the monks and nuns would take good care of her. This will be a learning experience for all three of us – we’ll learn all about the world, and you’ll learn how to become detached from it. Tsering, despite a waft of sadness, smiled at the memory of her parents, such sensible people, always knowing what to say. Another memory of them materialized, in which they described the spirits to her. They were around her age when Avatar Wan had sent the spirits back to the Spirit World, but they still remembered the mystical creatures that took on many forms and had strange magical abilities, they had said. Are their powers like bending? she had asked. Oh, no, they had answered, her mother tickling her. Their powers are far greater than human bending. They are immortal, after all. Tsering remembered having wondered how, then, Avatar Wan could have died, if he, too, had been part spirit. Her parents did not have an answer for her. Some things are not for us to know, they had gently replied, but Tsering hadn’t been satisfied.

The weeks drifted by, each one punctuated with an additional meditation session with the abbots. Tsering wasn’t sure if the sessions were making any difference in determining why she saw the Avatar, but she did notice the vibrancy and frequency of her dreams increasing. She not only saw Wan, but the spirits, as well, in her own rendering of what the Spirit World might be like. Massive flowers bigger than fruit trees bloomed around waterfalls that defied gravity; purple mountains and blue, twisted trees stretched upward, yawning; golden dragon-birds and plants with kind faces and huge frogs wearing funny hats drank tea together from a clay teapot that glowed with an eerily familiar energy. In many dreams, she coasted through the Eastern mountains on the back of an air bison with one cream-colored horn and one brown horn. Once, she flew all by herself, soaring along air currents with wings made of wood and cloth. Tsering would have been perfectly content to live inside her dreams, evading the rest of her daily responsibilities with impeccable negative jing.

As if her appearance didn’t cause her peers to avoid her enough, now that she was having special meditations with the abbots, they all but pretended she didn’t exist. During collective lessons, meals, and activities, Tsering noticed that almost no one her age spoke to her at all. However hurtful this was, Tsering tried not to show it; after all, she had enough to think about without worrying about solving her peers’ trivial disputes as she used to. She did her best to convert any frustrations with her cohort into gratitude for the opportunity to grow spiritually through her time with the abbots. And growing, she was: her Airbending seemed to be improving more quickly than before; soon, her skills might even match Lobsang’s. With a great deal of concentration, she managed to occasionally alter her body temperature with her breath. It didn’t take nearly as much effort to lift herself into the fruit trees around the village now. Aarav, Miksha, and a few other monks and nuns had started asking her to help put the final touch of Airbending on their fruit pies and other baked goods. Through changes in the air currents, she could often feel the presence of others around her during group endeavors. Still, in sensing her peers’ movements, she noticed even more that they moved away from her.

Tsering swung her legs over the edge of the rocky cliff she sat upon as she gazed at the village from afar. Thin, stringy clouds floated frivolously between her and her home; with the sloping mountain range in the background, the scene before her was fantastical. Beside her lay a sack almost overflowing with persimmons. The breeze seemed to come up from below her, tousling her robes and whistling around her bare feet. With several flicks of her ankles, she caught little currents of the updraft, rolling it with its own momentum into little balls of air that disappeared as quickly as they were formed. Out of the corner of her eye, she spied the village swimming closer to her. Suddenly, the wind’s intensity flourished, blasting upward with a force that cleared the gravel around Tsering. While someone else may have fretted about an incoming windstorm, a grin spread across her face. Now, perhaps more than ever, she needed the comfort of a dear friend’s company – of Yu’s company.

The lion turtle’s enormous head rose magnificently into view, stopping at eye level with Tsering. The gusts of wind produced by such a mighty animal could have easily thrown her off the cliff, had she not been so used to them. In an instant where so many of her peers would likely shriek in shock or fear, she grabbed a persimmon and leapt to her feet, laughing. The giant creature opened his mouth, revealing rows of teeth larger than the village huts and a tongue that could lick clean an entire forest in one swipe. Tsering wound her arm up and threw the persimmon towards the lion turtle with all her might, propelling it forward with Airbending. It landed right on the beast’s tongue. Tsering whooped with glee, grabbing another fruit, and then another, and another, hurling them forward with gusto. The lion turtle’s huge mouth closed, and he swallowed the fruits as swiftly as they’d been thrown to him. Then, he spoke, his voice booming.

“Tsering,” he said warmly. “It has been too long since we last met.” Tears welled up in Tsering’s eyes at his greeting.

“Yu,” she called through choked-back emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

As the lion turtle hovered in place, the wind returned to its normal velocity. Now, the two could commune in peace. Tsering sat back down and took a fruit from her bag for herself, enjoying a bite of its sweetness.

“Your energy is clouded,” Yu commented, his massive eyes fixed on her. “What troubles you?”

Tsering sighed. Was she that easy to read, or was he simply an expert at analyzing energy? “Everything’s changing,” she muttered, unable to hide her exasperation from him. “I’ve been getting extra meditation time with the abbots and it’s been helping me a lot, but everyone else has been acting even more like I’m the black lemur because of it.”

“Hmmm, extra meditation. Why is that?” Yu asked slowly.

“Well… I’ve been having a lot of dreams that they seem to think have meaning. We’re supposed to be getting to the bottom of it, but we’re not really getting anywhere.”

Yu studied her without saying anything for several minutes. Tsering continued to eat her persimmon, swinging her legs over the edge of the cliff again. She wasn’t bothered by the long silences during their conversations. She was more comfortable with Yu than almost any other being in the world, except maybe Miksha.

“You have seen the light spirit,” Yu said at last. Tsering nearly spat out the hunk of fruit she was chewing.

“I’m sorry, the light spirit, Raava? The spirit that fused with the Avatar?” Tsering wanted to confirm she had heard him correctly. He nodded. “I’ve seen the Avatar in my dreams, but not Raava.”

“Mmm. There is no difference between them,” the lion turtle rumbled. “Avatar Wan and the light spirit are one being. If you have seen him, you have seen her.”

Tsering shook her head to clear the disbelief from it. Yu knew a lot more about the spirits than any human, and had been acquainted with the Avatar himself, not to mention that he certainly would never lie to her.

“How did you even know– wait, you said they ARE one? But, Avatar Wan is dead.”

Yu shook his colossal head. “Avatar Wan may no longer have his mortal body, but his spirit still exists. The Avatar is part of Raava; Raava is immortal. The Avatar can never die.” Tsering perked up. Lobsang would be happy to hear that – many of the villagers would, as a matter of fact.

“Are you saying that Avatar Wan isn’t actually dead? That he’s still alive somewhere?”

Again, the lion turtle shook his head. “Wan will never again take mortal form. His time has passed. It is a new Avatar’s time now.”

Tsering blinked, stupefied. “A new Avatar?”

Yu nodded silently, and Tsering’s mind whirled with the new information. Some things are not for us to know. Her mother’s voice sang in her ears. She was tempted to press her friend for answers, but was quite frankly getting tired of the subject of the Avatar dominating seemingly everything lately. Tsering wanted to enjoy her time with Yu, to hear another one of his stories from the olden times, to not worry so much about something she knew so little about and would probably never know much more about. She passed the lion turtle a few more persimmons, which he lapped up appreciatively.

Chapter Text

“Everyone, please gather around!” Miksha’s voice rang out around the main clearing of the village’s training grounds. The air children edged closer to her, a sea of warm-colored clothing and bright chatter. Tsering stood, not entirely by choice, at the edge of the group. She caught Lobsang’s eye, who, being the tallest in the group, stood in the back out of consideration for others, and waved. He offered a tight, uncomfortable smile, his lips curling inward. Tsering looked away, rolling her eyes. Not even Lobsang wants anything to do with me.

Beside Miksha stood an array of tall wooden panels that had been freshly painted, with beautiful swirling patterns along the edges. The symbol of the Air Nomads, a single, tight spiral inside of a blue circle, had been painted meticulously in the center of each. Aside from the recent paint job, the wood looked very old; it must have been carefully preserved, stored somewhere in the village where the elements could not cause wear or tear. The wood itself seemed to whisper, to have a soul of its own. Tsering wondered exactly how old the panels were, which ancient trees had given parts of themselves so that generations of Air Nomads could train to become better benders. Aarav and Norbu stood at Miksha’s other side. Aarav held a dark red leaf in their hand.

“This is a new exercise for you all, so please listen carefully,” Norbu stepped forward, addressing the children authoritatively. “Today, we will refine your ability to move like the breeze, like an Airbender. As we all know, the Airbender utilizes spiraling movements. Like a leaf swirling in the wind, we can change direction at only a moment’s notice. In this exercise, you all will become the leaf in the wind.”

Gathering momentum with big sweeps of his arms and then throwing it in front of himself, Norbu bent a powerful gust of air at the wooden panels. Tsering felt a pang of anxiety – wouldn’t the wood splinter and break apart with such a force? Instead, the panels began to rotate rapidly in place, the air flowing harmlessly between them. Tsering understood the exercise immediately as Aarav approached the panels, leaf in hand. They opened their palm face-up, and the leaf levitated in a tiny ball of air, held fast by their Airbending. Then, they pushed the leaf forward, into the space between two spinning panels. The air children watched quietly as the leaf twirled with the wind between the wooden arrangement, never touching a single painted edge. It spun out of the other side of the arrangement before floating elegantly to the ground.

“If you can become like the leaf, spiraling with the air, the wooden panels will not touch you,” Norbu explained. He bent another gust of air to set the panels rotating rapidly again, and Miksha stepped towards them. She closed her eyes, inhaled, and leapt between them. Tsering’s stomach lurched. She had every bit of confidence in her guardian, but even from her distance away, she could tell the wooden panels would hurt quite a lot if they made contact. Several children gasped in awe as Miksha danced between the panels with the ease and grace of the leaf without opening her eyes, a flurry of dark skin and golden robes. She emerged on the other side unscathed. The children cheered.

“Would anyone like to try becoming the leaf?” She asked, grinning, a single bead of sweat forming over the shaved part of her head where her blue Airbending master tattoos glistened.

Lobsang was the first to volunteer. On his first attempt, he was almost immediately smacked backwards out of the array of panels. Tsering winced. It sounded painful. Lobsang smirked, clutching his shoulder where the wood had hit him as he rose to his feet again with the assistance of his Airbending. On his second attempt, he got about halfway through before, again, he was brutally ousted. Norbu bent over him, his brow furrowed, and though he spoke in just a whisper, Tsering knew the abbot was asking Lobsang if he wanted to stop.

“No,” Lobsang replied quickly. “I’d like to try once more.”

The boy approached his designated entrance, and when Norbu bent another burst of wind right over him and the wooden forest, he didn’t flinch. Lobsang took several deep breaths before he leapt in once more.

“Go, Lobsang!” Tsering’s chest squeezed anxiously when she heard Gyari’s voice from within the crowd. The two hadn’t spoken since that day in the fruit tree grove, months ago. As she turned her attention back to Lobsang, she watched him emerge from the other side of the spinning panels, breathing hard. As they did for Miksha, the air children cheered. Tsering even found herself cheering, despite the bud of resentment that her peers’ behavior had planted within her.

Most of the children were not as fortunate as he was. For hours, they drilled the exercise, many never making it through at all. Several air children managed to completely cross the obstacles, but not without sustaining what would surely become a mosaic of bruises later. Tsering was horribly nervous for her turn. By the time it came, the very last of the group, the sun was setting, and most of the children had left the training grounds to tend to the lumps already forming where they’d been smacked. Lobsang and a few other air children remained, observing her alongside the three abbots. Norbu sent the wooden panels spinning again. Tsering stared straight ahead, fixedly watching their rotations. Be the leaf, she thought, determined to do well despite the nerves gripping her stomach. There is no difference between them. Yu’s words regarding the bond between Raava and Avatar Wan surfaced. There is no difference between the leaf and me. And with that, she dove into the chaos. It was completely silent, except for the sounds of rotating wood and her own soft footsteps.

While Tsering spiraled around, weaving between the panels, her mind wandered. It was as if the exercise itself was a meditation of its own, only she was communing with the very air itself. I can’t believe I’m actually doing it, she thought, dancing round and round as she tried with everything in her to sense the movements of each panel around her. The sunset bathed the training grounds in a fiery light, smoky, scarlet clouds rolling all around her as she spun. She changed directions, and her mind followed suit.

It is a new Avatar’s time now. Yu’s voice in her head made her focus waver, and the moment it did, a wooden panel smacked her square in the face. Outside the wooden forest, Miksha gasped. Monkey feathers! she thought angrily, trying to regain her composure as she stumbled towards another panel. Tsering, mustering as much strength as she could, lurched her head upward, pain and embarrassment burning her face, and narrowly avoided brutalization again. Be the leaf. Don’t be the tree, she scolded herself, swerving sporadically around another rotating panel. Her head throbbed as she swung herself rather ungracefully through the rest of the course. Tsering emerged on the other side and sank to her knees, one palm over her right eye, the other on her head, her heartbeat pounding throughout her skull. It was only after a few moments that she noticed people applauding.

“Wow, Tsering,” Miksha’s voice found itself to her. “I wish more of the children had stayed to watch. You are the only one today who was able to finish the course in one attempt, and on your first-ever attempt, no less!” She felt Miksha’s arm around her waist, lifting her to her feet. The two walked together to where the small group of Airbenders waited, still clapping in amazement.

“But I got hit,” Tsering responded bitterly, her hand still on her eye. Her face stung and her head ached; if she hadn’t failed, why did it hurt so much?

“You did very well,” Aarav purred. Norbu nodded in agreement, stretching his long, pale arms to ensure he wouldn’t be sore after an afternoon full of bending. Lobsang offered the same restrained smile as before, but said nothing. Tsering swore she saw anger flare in his eyes.

“Great jo– oh no, your eye!” one of the other children exclaimed as she lowered her hand, pointing at the right side of her face. For once, someone was gesturing to her face to call attention to something other than her mottled complexion. Tsering reached back up and touched a finger to her eye socket, flinching. It was painfully swollen. She was sure to wake up with a black eye. Wonderful; another thing to draw people’s stares, she thought, smirking at the irony.

The fact that it was the day after Tsering had turned fifteen did not mean she was exempt from her extra meditation session. Fallen leaves clustered around either side of the entrance to the pagoda, having blown from nearby trees that were almost bare. It was cloudy, and a chilly breeze blew incense smoke around the space without one of the abbots needing to bend it.

“Clear your mind. Focus on the swirling air around us,” Miksha instructed. “Feel it embracing your skin, entering your body through your breath. Travel along the air currents inside yourself. Flow throughout your body, and feel yourself relaxing each part, from your head, to your neck and shoulders, your arms, your chest and back, your hips, legs, and feet.” Tsering focused on and relaxed each body part as her guardian listed them. She could feel the cold wind flowing through her lungs, in and out, churning air currents that might carry her away with them if she wasn’t focused enough. She felt every hair on her head as it brushed against her shoulder blades, every beat of her heart, every pulse of energy it sent through her veins. They sat quietly for several minutes, concentrating deeply on their breath.

“Focus on the energy spiraling inside of yourself as you continue to breathe,” Aarav all but whispered, their voice drifting to her on the breeze. For a long while, neither abbot said anything. Tsering let her mind wander along the canals of energy that gently rolled through her, her inhibitions falling away. Be the leaf. Spiraling energy. Spiral with the wind. She focused intently on the endless movement of the air, the endless tides of life itself, surrendering herself to the motions. Her mind followed along the air currents of time, back with the original benders of the four elements, the spirits, to the eternal dance of Vaatu and Raava, ebb and flow. And that very moment, the moment that Tsering found Raava within her own energy, was the moment that Avatar Wan came to her in the waking world.

The gentle wind became a gale, and Tsering’s eyes snapped open at the sudden change to the airwaves and the bright blue light that suddenly shone behind her eyelids. Aarav and Miksha had faded like mist into the dark clouds in the background, and in their place sat a lanky, muscular figure with bandage-clad arms and robes that billowed in the gusts along with his long, dark hair. The being’s entire form was tinted with a glowing, icy blue. It was the same person that had been running through her dreams, the same eyes that had locked into hers time and time again, the same energy that she had felt deep within herself for many years now.

“Avatar Wan,” she breathed. The late Avatar did not appear as the old man he had died as, but a younger, more vibrant version of himself, the same version she’d seen in her visions. Was this another dream?

“Tsering.” A shiver of bewilderment crept up her spine when the man spoke to her for the first time, uttering her name as if he had known her all her life.

“How do you know my name?” The two had not met while the Avatar was alive; he had died in the same year that she was born. In fact, he had died in the exact same moment that she was born, a detail that he knew, but she didn’t.

“Tsering, I need your help,” he said, ignoring her question. “The human world is infected with destruction and violence.” Wan spoke with so much emotion behind his voice that Tsering was almost pushed to tears.

“I… I know that, but what am I supposed to do about it? I haven’t even mastered Airbending yet.” She was overwhelmed by the late Avatar’s lack of hesitation to burden her with such pressing matters. “Why would you need my help? Why not ask the abbots?”

Wan smiled, his eyes swimming as they met hers. “You will master Airbending,” he declared, overlooking her question again. Or could he not hear her?

“…And you can already Waterbend. I am so proud of you.”

Tsering’s eyes widened. The puddle. Her heart thudded in her chest as she remembered the evening that she’d tried so hard to forget.

“Waterbend? No… no, you’re mistaken. I splashed that puddle with my hand,” she replied weakly, but they both knew that wasn’t true. Tsering felt her breath catch in her throat. “What is happening to me?!” she cried. All she had ever known for fifteen years were the ways of the Air Nomads. If she somehow turned out to be a Waterbender instead of an Airbender, this would turn her entire life upside down. Unless…

“You will master Airbending,” Wan’s repeated statement interrupted her thoughts. His figure was disappearing just as quickly as it had materialized before her.

“Wait! Please wait, Wan!” Tsering shouted, but her voice was lost in the powerful wind that swept over her.

“Tsering! Tsering, are you alright?” She could hear Miksha as the tempest stilled. Tsering’s eyes flew open once again. She was breathing hard, sweat making her hair and clothes stick to her. The two abbots were sitting up on their knees, looking at her with concern. Miksha reached out and placed her hand on Tsering’s shoulder, an anchor to steady a vessel that had been tossed about in a great wave.

“I’m alright,” Tsering said unconvincingly. She looked down at her hands. She had been gripping her robes until her knuckles were white. She let her body relax again, hoping to hide her reeling mind. She chose her words carefully. “I… I saw Avatar Wan.”

The abbots’ eyes widened. “In what way? Was he running, like in your dreams?” Aarav’s voice was still in undertones, but Tsering could tell it was raised in wonder.

“No. He spoke to me. He told me that I need to master Airbending.” She left out the parts in which Wan had told her he needed her help, and confirmed an instant which Tsering was sure hadn’t happened in the way that it most certainly had. Negative jing was the way to handle this, at least for now. She was already the one who was exceedingly different in the village; she was determined for this to not be a complete upending of her entire life. Aarav and Miksha both looked thoughtful.

“Hmmm… the late Avatar’s spirit reaching out to one of our children with a plea for them to master air,” Aarav mused to their counterpart. “It seems to me that he has foreseen a powerful Airbender in her.” Tsering, despite the tumult that stormed in her mind, couldn’t subdue a smile at the praise from one of the most skilled Airbending masters in the village.

“I believe we should speak with Brother Norbu about this,” Miksha replied, straightening up. “This is a very strange occurrence indeed.” Her voice suddenly sounded far away, as if there was a great deal on her mind now. The abbot’s expression was difficult now even for Tsering to read. Unsure of what to say, she nodded, and the two abbots rose to their feet.

“We would like you to continue to meditate here on your own,” Aarav added softly as they stepped around her.

You will master Airbending soon. You can already Waterbend. Wan’s voice echoed dauntingly in her ears. Once Tsering was alone, the full weight of her encounter with the Avatar crashed down onto her, a typhoon slamming her full force.

Chapter Text

The rising sun spilled warm, golden light over the dusty training grounds, illuminating the dense mist that had formed over the surface of the earth. Tsering sat in the center of the clearing, a pile of disjointed sticks around her. With fervent, deliberate gestures, she used a sharpened clay knife to whittle the wood into the shapes she desired, attaching them together in turn. She cringed each time the knife slipped and the blade bit her, but didn’t stop what she was doing. It had been several days since she had slept. When the wood did not cooperate, or she received a wound that stung just a bit too much, she rushed to her feet, thin lines of crimson trickling down her skin, and threw herself in frustration at the wooden panel obstacle course. If I keep myself distracted, I won’t have to think about the Avatar anymore.

The wood bashed her time and time again, tossing her this way and that without sympathy. Unfocused and exhausted, Tsering knew she wouldn’t cross over to the other side of the panels. With a final, heaving sigh of defeat, she laid back on the cold, hard ground, her lidded eyes studying the lightening sky. The air bison with mismatched horns that she had seen in her dreams flew into her view. Tsering’s heart skipped a beat as it turned its gaze down to her. It looked like it was moving towards her before Tsering blinked, and it was gone. Oh, spirits, I’m losing my mind.

“Well, good morning, Tsering,” chirped a voice that sounded like her mother’s. Still laying on her back, Tsering looked up at the blurry, upside-down brown and orange figure that was making its way toward her. Mother?

Close, but not quite.

“Sister Miksha,” she replied without moving. “Good morning.”

“You’re up early, wha– spirits above, Tsering, are you alright?!” Miksha bent over her to assess her bloodied, bruised skin. “What in the world have you been doing?!”

“Ummmm, training,” Tsering answered dimly. She was simply too tired to come up with any other excuse.

“You look like you’ve been chasing lemurs through a field of rash cactus all night. There is simply no excuse good enough for overexerting yourself. Let’s get you patched up and back to sleep,” Miksha insisted, clearly disturbed by her ward’s condition. She would have to pay closer attention to the young Airbender, but Tsering had never given her a reason to worry this much before.

“Wait,” Tsering said as Miksha helped her to her feet and began to guide her away from the clearing. Turning back, she scooped up her incomplete project. Miksha raised an eyebrow at the haphazard bundle of wooden rods.

“What is this?” she asked as she plucked the clay knife off the ground, covering the blade and putting it in her pocket. Miksha had never been one to pry Tsering, but given the circumstances she had found her in, she couldn’t contain her curiosity.

“Just… something I’m working on,” Tsering replied with a shrug, wincing at the dull ache that began to fill her body.

It was proving to be much harder to turn a figment of the imagination into something tangible than she anticipated. She wasn’t totally sure whether the unfinished object would turn out to be useful or not, but it seemed promising in her sleep-deprived state. Miksha spoke, pulling her from her hazy thoughts.

“Tsering, I know that you have been feeling a lot of pressure lately, with the increased meditations, and training, and simply growing up. I apologize for my part in your stress,” she paused, “and for not being present as much for you outside of training. There have been a lot of… disturbing happenings lately, but that’s also not a good enough excuse.” Tsering glanced at her mentor, surprised at the blatant way in which she spoke. “If it is too much for you, we can pause the extra sessions. I want you to prioritize your well-being.”

“No,” Tsering responded quickly.

Although their most recent meeting in the pagoda had fundamentally changed the way she viewed her entire existence, she found that the idea of the extra meditation sessions coming to an end made her feel unhappy. They were slowly approaching the girls’ communal sleeping quarters.

“It’s not… We don’t have to stop. I’ll be alright.” She didn’t know what else to say; she was sure her current condition was not very convincing. “You said disturbing things? What do you mean, Sister?”

Miksha sighed. “You need to rest before we talk about any of that,” she replied, her hands pushing gently on Tsering’s shoulders, urging her to sit on one of the natural stone stools in front of the entrance to the long hut and relax. The abbot reached into her robe pockets, retrieving a small cloth, a sachet of water, and a small roll of bandages from it. She wet the cloth and dabbed it along the places where the blood had already dried on Tsering’s fingers, arms, and legs. Neither spoke as Miksha cleaned and wrapped her cuts, the wet cloth cool and welcome on her inflamed skin. Tsering noted how similar her wrapped extremities looked to the bandage-clad limbs of Avatar Wan.

“Please, get some sleep, Tsering. That is to be your priority today.”

“Okay,” Tsering said uneasily. “I’ll try.”

Inside, some of the girls were rising from their bedrolls, looking at her with bewildered expressions as she entered unsteadily, bandaged up and still carrying her bundle of wood. Truly, Tsering felt drained, but she was worried about her dreams now that Avatar Wan had broken though whatever barrier was keeping him from being able to communicate verbally with her. She didn’t know how much more confusion she could take. Collapsing onto her bison fur-lined bedding, unable to keep herself upright any longer, she almost immediately plummeted into deep slumber.

It was the first sleep in weeks with absolutely zero dreams. Tsering opened her eyes and saw that it was completely dark outside. It’s nighttime already? she wondered, sitting up. Raising her arms upward in a stretch, she noticed her bandages had been replaced, and there were less of them now; the smaller scratches had already scabbed over. How long have I been asleep?! The other girls were sleeping in their bedrolls. Tsering rose to leave and tripped over her stack of sticks. There was no denying the heavy sleep that tugged on her muscles. I can’t believe I slept all day.

Outside, the first thing she noticed besides the sky full of stars was Miksha, sitting with her back against the wall of the hut as she dozed. As if sensing her arrival back to earth, the abbot opened her eyes and looked into Tsering’s. For a sleepy moment, she looked unsure whether this was real or a dream, but relief flooded her face as she jumped to her feet and embraced her ward.

“Oh, Tsering, thank the spirits,” she breathed. “I wasn’t sure if you were ever going to wake up.”

“What do you mean? You told me that getting some sleep was my priority today.” Tsering was dumbfounded by Miksha’s strong reaction. Her guardian pulled back, blinking at her.

“You’ve been asleep for four days, Tsering.”

She felt like she had been smacked in the face with another wooden panel.

“Wh– are you serious?” As if on cue, her stomach growled. Loudly. Miksha smirked for a moment, but nodded gravely, reaching into the arm pocket of her outer robe to hand Tsering a leaf-wrapped rice ball that she must have saved from dinner.

“You were still breathing normally, so I didn’t feel the need to raise any alarms, but I was so worried about you,” Miksha said, lowering her voice to a whisper as if she’d just remembered there was an entire hut full of children sleeping through the wall they stood next to.

Tsering was touched at her mentor’s concern; she must have been sleeping out here every night instead of in the abbots’ hut. She smiled, the muscles in her face still a bit slow to respond to her brain. She noticed how much less stressed she felt now that her body had had ample time to catch up with her racing mind.

“Well, I’m here now, and I’ve rested up. If you’re not too tired, I’d like to show you what I was working on.”

Tsering and Miksha made their way up to the top of Centering Hill, which overlooked the training grounds as one of the highest points of the village. Large stones engraved with the symbol of the Air Nomads rose from the earth to form a natural ring at the top of the hill. There were no clouds, and the unobstructed stars gleamed. Tsering always felt at peace up here. The moon, some days away from being full, coated everything in a silvery light. The two Airbenders sat across from each other once they reached the center of the circle, and Tsering spread the sticks out in the space between them. Miksha watched her with pensive eyes, waiting patiently for her to begin her explanation.

“In some of my dreams, I’ve flown on the back of an air bison, but I’ve also had a dream where I flew by myself with wooden wings, using a, uh… a glider of sorts,” Tsering began.

She held up the longest of the wooden rods, onto which she had already attached several smaller pieces to one end.

“This is the center of the glider. These smaller pieces will be where I put my feet, and I want to attach longer ones here where I can grab it with my hands. Along here, there will have to be some cloth stretched tightly to serve as the actual glider part that catches the wind.” She gestured to the long incisions she had made on either side of the longest pole. “And, the hand and footrests plus the glider will be retractable, so it can be used as a walking stick, or even a kind of tool.”

Miksha, despite having hours before thought Tsering might have crossed over to live with the spirits, looked fascinated. “A tool?”

Tsering nodded. “I suppose it could be used to bend bigger and more precise gusts of air. I kind of envisioned whirling it over my head like a propeller, or harvesting a whole bunch of persimmons at once with it,” she elaborated, smiling at the thought of using her glider like a bladeless sickle. “I know you like to make things too, so I thought you might like to help me finish it,” she added, placing a hand on the back of her neck. Miksha had always noted Tsering’s little gestures of shyness, and she chuckled.

“Of course, I’d love to help you, Tsering. This is a brilliant idea. It would be an excellent tool for all of us, especially those of us who are still learning Airbending, don’t you think?”

Tsering frowned. “Well… I’d want to make sure it works, first,” she muttered, displeased at the thought of Lobsang and Gyari and the others taking advantage of her creation, happily using it while continuing to keep her at arm’s length, making up games to play with it that she wasn’t invited to participate in. Miksha nodded, picking up on Tsering’s hesitation to share her vision so soon after its conception.

“Certainly. You’ll be the one to test it out. It’s your idea, after all,” the abbot said soothingly. “Well, let’s begin.”

Two full days had not quite passed before it was high time to test out Tsering’s glider. Using the long wooden rod as a walking stick, she hiked up Centering Hill to where Miksha waited, two measured and carefully cut pieces of cloth in her hands. A thin layer of dusty snow coated the ground, the first of the season; Tsering decided the first snow’s arrival tonight would bring her good luck. She tapped her walking stick against the ground, and the retractable appendages flew out obediently. She grinned, her heart soaring. Last night, it had proven quite the challenge to get every retracting piece to move in synchronization. Now, all that was left were the cloth pieces Miksha had brought; once they were attached, she would have her wings.

“Hello, Tsering,” Miksha said in greeting, her smile warming words that were delivered in a cold puff of breath. “Shall we finish your glider so you can try flying?”

Tsering all but jumped up and down with excitement, nodding and holding the contraption up to her mentor. Miksha threaded the cloths through the incisions in the sides and attached them gingerly to each spoke of wood, making one very large fan in the center, and one smaller one near the footrests. They were stretched tight and secure, just as Tsering had seen in her dreams. It was almost too good to be true.

“Thank you so much for your help, Sister Miksha,” she exclaimed. Tsering touched the pole against the ground once more, and the cloth retracted with ease. She lunged into the Single-Handed Air Blast stance, plunging the stick forward to send a focused funnel of air over the horizon before twirling it around slowly in her hand and tapping it against the ground again to extend the fans. “I’m ready to give it a try.”

Miksha had been so caught up in helping the girl build the glider, that she realized she wasn’t totally certain it was safe. “Tsering, it’s cold, and there isn’t much wind tonight. Are you sure you can handle it?”

The fact that she had been unconscious for four entire days had been disquieting enough. As if to disprove her concerns, a breeze swept over them, blowing the snow powder around gracefully. Tsering smirked, grasping the upper handles.

“Of course, I can handle it,” she hollered as she bent her knees and launched herself upward with a blast of air from her feet, copying a move Gyari had executed almost a whole year ago when she was being chased by Lobsang through the persimmon grove.

Tsering closed her eyes, latching her feet into the lower handles as the frigid breeze whipped her face. Tears ran down her cheeks and into her grinning mouth as she let everything on the ground below fall away, all her worries, her peers and mentors, the wooden panels, the fruit trees, even Yu and Miksha, as she dove upward into the starry sky. This must be a dream, she thought instinctively, but she knew otherwise. This was entirely real. Through a thing of her own invention, she was flying, using her Airbending to propel herself in any direction she pleased. On the ground, Miksha whooped, overjoyed at the success she had aided in bringing to fruition.

Tsering shot herself high into the air, angling this way and that as she pleased. Unlatching from the footrests, she swung her feet downward. With her Airbending keeping her from plummeting immediately, she twirled the glider-stick above her head, retracting the fans and hovering with the wooden pole as her propeller. The move took a great deal more effort than she expected it to, but she was doing it.

“It’s exactly like I imagined it would be!” she shouted gleefully.

In the blink of an eye, one of her hands slipped and she almost lost her grip on the wood altogether. With one hand still in twirling momentum, she shook open the glider and swung her feet back into their place, her heart hammering as she gripped the wooden handles. Well, it’s not exactly as I imagined, she thought, the anxiety from her slip-up surging through her body. She hoped it didn’t look as terrifying from below as it felt, high in the air. With regained control, Tsering glided in an elegant falling-leaf pattern back down to the ground. Miksha rushed to her, a frantic joy on her face.

“Congratulations, Tsering! You’ve invented the air glider,” the abbot declared, embracing her ward. “And you need to be careful with it. I saw you almost lose your grip. You recovered well, and if you fell, I could have caught you, but I’m not always going to be around to save you,” she reminded her gently. Tsering nodded.

“I understand, Sister Miksha. I just need more practice.”

“Well then, get to it,” Miksha replied, winking.

Tsering spent nearly the entirety of the following days in training. She felt a renewed sense of purpose within herself: to master Airbending and fly freely with her glider, to become one with the air so that not even slip-ups could scare her, and to figure out what Avatar Wan needed her for.

Down a small knoll off the training grounds, she balanced on thin plateaus of earth cut and formed by the old masters for Airbenders to practice maintaining their air and earth connections. As she breathed, she balanced first on one foot, then the other, then on one hand, and the other. When she teetered, and inevitably fell, she practiced inhaling and relaxing instead of freezing up in panic so she could bend clouds of air underneath herself before she hit the ground hard. This is how I’ll catch myself if I fall from my glider, she decided. Once Tsering could balance without falling, she moved on to the wooden panels. The obstacle course had been a source of self-sabotage the last time she had trained here alone, but this time, she was not here to let herself be mindlessly thrown through the air; she was here to master it.

She focused intently on her breath as she bent a strong bluster at the panels with little effort. My Airbending is getting pretty good, she thought, pleased with herself.

For a moment, she thought back to what Wan had told her about the lands on the other side of the Eastern mountains. The human world is infected with destruction and violence. She was briefly overcome with gratitude for Yu, for her village, for being able to live somewhere safe, where she could dedicate every day to growing and improving herself in a peaceful environment. If what the Avatar had said was true, then most people in the world were probably not nearly as fortunate as she was – most people in the world probably needed to dedicate every day to keeping themselves and their loved ones alive. Even her, the “black lemur” of the village, held immense privilege. Tsering sucked in a massive breath, clearing the heaviness from her chest with a long exhale. If she wanted to make it through the wooden obstacle course without suffering, she would need to be as light as a leaf in the wind.

Tsering squeezed her eyes shut and leapt at the spinning panels with the same motion she had watched Miksha use weeks ago. She spiraled and danced around the spinning wooden panels, images of flying on her glider flashing behind her closed eyelids. With each inhale, she could sense the motion of the panels around her, and she adjusted her direction in accordance. Even she was amazed with herself as she spun out of the other side without injury for the first time. She looked back at the panels as they slowed with wide eyes. Then, the sound of clapping echoed from across the training grounds. It was Norbu and Lobsang, having come for an individual training session.

“Tsering! That was splendid! You moved through the course like a master,” Norbu called to her.

As they approached, Tsering could tell that Lobsang was quite irritated at their mentor’s praise of her. Despite the frowning boy, Tsering smiled at her superior, bowing her head.

“Thank you, Brother Norbu,” she replied. “I have actually never made it through without getting hurt before.”

The abbot laughed, patting her on the shoulder. “Well, you seem to be well on your way to earning your master tattoos already. Lobsang, you had better catch up!”

Norbu was only teasing, but his joke caused Lobsang to fume more. Without responding, the older boy stormed, glowering, towards the wooden panels and sent them rotating, throwing himself towards them without much thought. Within seconds, he was flung back out. Tsering winced. She knew how painful the wooden obstacles became when they were attempted without a clear head. Norbu exclaimed and rushed towards his pupil, the boy’s head in his hands. Tsering, not wanting to face her peer’s wrath, hurried away. It was certainly time for a break from training, anyway.

Chapter Text

On the night of the full moon, Tsering hiked back to the top of Centering Hill. She felt ready to practice flying again – real flying this time. The luminous moonlight filled her with a surging determination. This time, I won’t fall, she thought, nodding in resolve. A gentle, humid breeze swirled around her ankles as she opened the glider and held on tight.

With a big gulp of air, Tsering sent herself soaring upward again. The exhilaration sent turkey-duckbumps across her skin like the arrival of the rain over a lake. She flew straight up, higher and higher, until she could see just about the entire village. Tsering turned her glider horizontal and soared sideways, dipping down towards where she knew Yu’s head was. She wanted her slumbering friend to see her now.

“Yu!” she called into the night, circling in place. Gradually, his head raised, and blinking slowly, he rested his eyes on her.

“Tsering,” he mumbled, his low voice even deeper, thick from sleep. “You are flying, as I am… How is this possible?”

“Yu, look at what I made,” Tsering squeaked excitedly, whirling the stick over her head as a propeller again.

She hovered towards him, and he held out a massive paw, onto which she gratefully landed. She had felt her grip slipping again; it was good he had been there.

“It’s an air glider. I can use it to fly around with Airbending.”

The lion turtle blinked slowly at her again, surveying her and the glider-stick in her hand. She smiled up at him. After a minute or two, he spoke again.

“This is a remarkable creation,” he huffed. Tsering beamed. He did not often compliment her, so the words, though slightly slurred, felt very special.

“Thank you,” she said, reaching out and hugging his enormous nose. “I’m going to fly around the mountains tonight. I’ve never really left the village, so I thought that would be a good start.”

Many years ago, her parents had told her that before Avatar Wan sent the spirits away, everyone in the village had frequent opportunities to venture across the Eastern mountains and sea. The technique of bending a small raft of clouds underfoot that Tsering used for getting up into the persimmon trees was often practiced among skilled travelers, as was the hallowed art of taming air bison companions to ride. The deeply spiritual and pacifistic Air Nomads lived in harmony with the spirits, so leaving the lion turtle village was never hazardous for them like it was for so many other groups of people. However, now that the land on the other side of the mountain range was saturated with man-made danger, air children rarely, if ever, got to leave. While the rest of the world felt safe enough to explore now that the spirits were gone, it was as if the opposite were true for Tsering and her people.

“Mmm,” the lion turtle rumbled. “There is a storm approaching. Be careful, Tsering.”

At this, Tsering frowned, looking up at the sky in confusion. It was another perfectly clear night, the moon and stars shimmering in the inky sky. She could handle a little rain if it came.

“Oh, alright. Thanks,” she said. “Good night, Yu.”

Tsering did not wait for the lion turtle to respond before she extended the glider’s fans and flung herself towards the ragged crests.

Tsering whooped with glee as she wound around the jagged peaks. With each summit she cleared, she had to remind herself that she was, in fact, awake. On the other side of the highlands, across the glimmering sea that slept between her and a vast expanse of land, Tsering could see clusters of buildings twinkling like stars. They were as small from her vantage point as spider-flies: other villages. Her heart skipped a beat as she thought of leaving her home to explore the world across the mountain range for the first time, partaking in the same pilgrimage her parents surely had. She landed on the highest point of one of the steepest slopes and gazed out at the open world before her, her thoughts sparkling with wanderlust. The thunder that suddenly rumbled in the sky behind her told her this would not be the night she crossed the mountains. Tsering turned and looked in the direction of the village to see ominous rainclouds gathering, threatening to swallow the full moon. Oh no, she thought, a lurch of anxiety in her belly. Yu had been right, as usual. I’d better head back.

The storm made it to her before she made it home. Sheets of rain pelted her, filling her eyes, soaking her to the bone. A bolt of lightning flashed menacingly in the distance, and then another. She was heading in the direction of the trouble, completely ignoring the negative jing she and her people practiced. Tsering turned and flew towards the cliff where she often met Yu; it was closer in proximity right now than her home was. Gusts of wind blasted her from all directions, the falling rain nearly horizontal. Oh spirits, please let me land, she thought despairingly as she clenched her teeth from the effort to keep herself steady with Airbending, her hair plastered around her face and neck.

Then, the sounds of tearing sent a shudder of dread up Tsering’s spine. A powerful wave of wind and rain overwhelmed her, ripping the fan of her glider. Suddenly, she was spiraling as if within the wooden panels, except this time, she was hurtling downward from thousands of feet in the air. She blinked the rainwater from her eyes, trying with all the strength left in her cold, soaked body to bend herself upward and in a consistent direction, but the storm did not yield. If she didn’t do something in the air, right now, she was looking at a hard fall – there was no way she could save herself from such a high altitude, and neither Yu nor Miksha were there to save her.

The veins in Tsering’s neck bulged as she yelled, a scream of pure effort and determination, centering on the rain in front of her and unleashing all her remaining energy at it.

And the rain bent to her will.

As it fell, it parted, flowing around her and curling up into waves that moved in reverse to carry her upward. Tsering, despite the surprise that jolted her core, tilted her chin upward, still shouting with the howling tempest, channeling the wind around her in the same direction as the water. The two elements combined boosted her forward with enough momentum that after a minute or two, she was able to reach out and grab the edge of the cliff. The water that had gathered at her feet fell away as she hung there for a moment, shivering, gasping for breath, shock and fatigue rattling her bones alongside the thunder. Tsering pulled herself to safety and collapsed forward in the mud, completely exhausted from bending two elements at once.

“What in the spirits happened, Tsering?!” Miksha held the glider out in front of her, bewilderment in her eyes as she surveyed the girl’s filthy robes and the glider’s torn, mud-streaked fabric. Several of the thinner wooden spokes had cracked and snapped without Tsering having noticed. It was no wonder she had taken such a dramatic dive downward last night.

“Tsering, are you listening to me? I told you to be careful!”

Tsering flinched against the blaze of both the sunlight and her mentor’s shout. She felt completely sapped of energy, her tolerance for the loud sounds and bright light lower than ever. Is this what adults feel like after they drink too much plum wine?

“Well, I wanted to explore the mountains, and a storm snuck up on me,” she muttered, omitting the fact that Yu had told her the storm was coming. If Miksha knew that Tsering had gone flying despite having been informed of the weather, she could say goodbye to her glider.

“Tsering… you were caught in the storm last night? How did you even survive?!” Wonder flashed momentarily in Miksha’s eyes before it was swiftly replaced with anger. “You could have been seriously injured, or worse! It is a wonder that you are even standing here before me. I have been worried sick about you since the morning I found you all cut up in the training grounds, and this is just about the straw that broke the goat-lion’s back.”

Tsering’s lips curled over her teeth. “I know. I’m so sorry, Sister Miksha. I promise, I’ll be more careful. Please, can… can it be fixed?”

Miksha snorted. Tsering wondered if she acted this way, like an impassioned young mother, towards anyone else in the entire village.

“Of course, it can, but should it be? Both times that you’ve used this glider, you’ve been in danger. I know that sometimes, when you’re young, you feel as if nothing bad can happen to you, but you are not invincible!”

“I know that. I swear, I’ll get better at it! It’s not the glider’s fault that there was a storm; Sister Miksha, please!”

At the young Airbender’s pleading, Miksha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes as she shook her head to clear her thoughts. This was something they both did when they were troubled.

“Alright, Tsering. I’ll fix it for you. But the only reason why I am comfortable doing so is because of how much your Airbending has improved lately. Please, please, be more careful.”

Relief flooded her faster than the rainwater from last night. She jumped with joy, a twirl of air spiraling around her legs as she did.

“Yes! Thank you, Sister Miksha. I promise, I will be more careful!”

Chapter Text

It was the day before Tsering turned sixteen that the three abbots decided she was ready to receive her master tattoos.

Since the night her and Miksha finished her air glider nearly a year ago, she had focused essentially all her waking energy on studying, training, meditating, and, of course, flying. When the air children gathered as a group before the rotating wooden panels again, Tsering was the one to demonstrate a flawless execution, the example for them to follow. Many of her peers, who had overlooked her, marveled at her unsuspecting skill, her oneness with the air around her, the spiraling movements she had practiced time and time again from early in the morning to the late hours of the night. She had indeed surpassed Lobsang, who seemed to only have disdainful scowls to offer her now. She knew she should speak with him soon, but she couldn’t make up her mind about what to say to him, and after all, she had a ceremony to prepare for. It was to take place the next day, in the temple on the opposite side of the village from the pagoda where she meditated with the abbots, the equivalent of the village’s meeting hall.

 “Tomorrow, you will become the first master in many, many years,” Miksha murmured. “Do you feel ready?” she asked.

The two of them sat alone and across from each other in the meditation pagoda, their eyes closed. The setting sun was just bright enough to illuminate the insides of Tsering’s eyelids.

“I do,” she said resolutely. She could feel the Airbenders practicing the Breath of Wind halfway across the village, could sense each of Miksha’s inhales and exhales, could all but see the herd of wild air bison riding the air currents past the pagoda. As far as she could tell, her Airbending training was complete.

Tsering’s head had been shaved in preparation for her tattooing, which would begin before sunrise in order to be completed before the ceremony at sunset. Despite her shaved head, she was warm against the approaching chill of dusk. Autumn, the season of strong winds, was the season of the Airbenders, and more air children were born in the village during autumn than any other season. Tsering, of course, was no exception. A long time ago, Tsering’s father had told her that she was born at sunset, which meant that her ceremony tomorrow was to take place at the exact moment she turned sixteen.

“I want you to know how proud I am of you, Tsering.”

Tsering opened her eyes and looked at her guardian, who was gazing back at her affectionately, her hazel eyes flickering in the waning light.

“Thank you, Sister Miksha,” she murmured.

The two sat in comfortable silence together until the last embers of sunset smoldered over the horizon. The night sky, a promise of tomorrow’s imminent arrival, sent a lurch of excitement through Tsering’s chest as she pictured her tattooed reflection.

“You should get some rest. You need to be up early,” Miksha said quietly. She could sense the girl practically vibrating with excitement and knew Tsering was likely to stay up all night in anticipation.

“Alright. I’ll try,” Tsering said, echoing what she had said when Miksha had found her bruised and battered in the training grounds last year. “Goodnight, Sister Miksha,” she whispered as she rose to her feet.

I’m going to be anointed a master tomorrow.

The temple was freshly painted for the occasion, the fallen leaves and debris that had cluttered the small pond in the courtyard cleared away. Clay wind chimes were hung in the temple’s windows; lanterns were suspended from the ceiling; small urns filled with burning incense sticks were placed on the floor along the walls of the space and on the stairs outside. The symbol of the Air Nomads hung on tapestries around the temple and had been re-painted in the center of the floor, where Tsering, wearing cloth coverings over her entire body, knelt. Her tattooing session had finished with time to spare, and so, as was customary in the village, she held a silent, solitary vigil. Here, she would stay, meditating until the ceremony began. Under her clothes, she could feel that her skin was still warm and raised where the thick colored lines had been added. It had been a painful procedure, but not as painful as she’d expected; after a few hours, she had grown quite used to the feeling of sharp points dragging across her skin methodically. Once the tattooing had finished, as per tradition, the monks and nuns had massaged special oils into Tsering’s skin. They had told her the mixture helped alleviate pain, prevent infection, and promote fast healing, and it made her skin glisten, as a new master was meant to. The floral, herbal scent of the oil covering her body mixed with the spicy, earthy aroma of the incense burning throughout the temple made Tsering feel incredibly relaxed. The full-body discomfort and lengthy process was absolutely worth the results: the tattooed skin of a true Airbending master. Whether some folks liked it or not, she fit in now.

At last, it was time for the ceremony to begin. She could sense the abbots approaching the temple, followed by a procession of tattooed monks and nuns, and finally, Airbenders-in-training: the entire village would participate in this ritual. None of the villagers walked; instead, they floated forward on a rolling cloud that everyone bent together. Tsering smiled, her eyes still closed as she surveyed the air flowing slowly towards her. Someone rang a bell in slow, rhythmic intervals, and the mesmerizing sound sent reassuring feelings flooding through her. A glimmer of sadness emanated from her heart when she realized her parents weren’t going to be there to participate in the ceremony, to see her tattoo reveal. I wonder where they are. The sun was going down now; through her eyelids, she could see the light change, the shadows elongating around her. Mother, father, wherever you are, I hope you’re proud of me.

“Today, we are here to bring a new master into our ranks,” Miksha began.

As Tsering’s primary mentor and guardian, by tradition, it was her responsibility to preside over her ward’s ceremony. She glanced at the young Airbender kneeling stoically in her coverings, her head down. Admittedly, Miksha had not anticipated that Tsering would master air by the time she turned sixteen – she wasn’t the youngest master ever recorded, but still, achieving mastery over their element before adulthood was a feat that deserved recognition. Her skills had grown exponentially in the last few years, as if driven by an outside force. In the few years following her parents’ departure from the village, Tsering had struggled with some nasty pre-teen angst, and regrettably, Miksha was repeatedly distracted by her duties as one of the village’s head abbots; she had obviously been there to train and guide the girl, but was unable to tend her every need. Yet, somehow, she had persevered and outshined the most skilled Airbender in her cohort, Lobsang, who was three years older than her. Yes, it was as if Tsering’s rapid development was part of some celestial design.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Norbu subtly but firmly clearing his throat. We’re kind of in the middle of something here, Miksha, he reminded her without needing to say it. Miksha nodded deeply, the motion helping re-center her focus.

“It is a monumental day indeed. Today, we welcome our first new master in a generation. She has shown steadfast dedication to growth, to nurturing an open heart and a free, untethered soul, qualities that we Airbenders strive for lifetimes to achieve. Despite the many trials and tribulations of life in this realm, she has never strayed from the path of enlightenment. May we follow in this young master’s footsteps, so that we may uphold the customs of the Air Nomad in all we are, and all we do. May the path of life she flows through be elevated; may her spirit always be uplifted.”

The traditional words poured from Miksha like an ancient stream, the observers nodding and murmuring their agreement. She turned to face Tsering, who still knelt with her eyes focused intently on the wooden floor. To raise her head and look at the abbot while she spoke, or worse, potentially expose her tattoos to everyone before being given permission to do so, would be an act of grave disrespect and bad luck. Miksha bent down and placed a necklace of spherical wooden beads around Tsering’s neck. A much larger, coin-shaped wooden pendant painted with the Air Nomads’ symbol over a blue circle hung from the necklace over the center of her chest. The blue color was the same hue as the tattoos under her clothes; it must have been painted with leftover ink from the tattooing session. Upon glancing at it, Tsering could tell Miksha had made it herself. The warmth that seeped into her heart was almost too much to bear.

“We are so proud of you,” Miksha whispered, audible only for the girl on the floor directly in front of her. A flutter of emotion came through the abbot’s voice. “Now, rise, Tsering, free of spirit and master of air!”

Tsering rose to her feet at last, perhaps a bit quicker than she should have; she had been kneeling for hours, and her blood, now permitted to circulate, shot up to her face. Despite the fuzzy head-rush, she lowered her hood and removed the cloth covering her arms and legs, exposing the sky-blue master tattoos that ran along her entire body.

Tsering had long dreamed of this moment. She puffed out her chest and inhaled sharply, beaming, her first breath as a tattooed master for all to see. Her skin was glossy and radiant from the oils. The tattoos stood out on her skin, ribbons of blue wind flowing over small white clouds and a brown sky. Like her elders, Tsering’s tattoos ended in single points on her forehead, hands, and feet, dotting swirling T-shapes that connected via thick canals of light blue ink. The shapes were meant to symbolize free-spirited human beings untethered from the earth, the head elevated with arms curled in flight, the connecting lines symbolizing life-giving energy pathways. Tsering glanced down at her skin with true joy in her heart for the first time. The Airbending masters around her generated gentle swirls of air that carried the incense smoke around the temple, ringing the clay wind chimes as it circled again and again. Others began to applaud, some cheers even escaping those who were too excited by the sight of a young new master to contain themselves.

“A new master!”

“Tsering, master of air!”

“May your spirit be uplifted!”

“May you walk in the light of Raava for all your days!” someone cried from the crowd.

At the mention of the light spirit’s name, Tsering’s heart suddenly thumped hard once in her chest.

Raava.

An overwhelming energy coursed through her, from where her feet stood to the top of her shaven head. She squeezed her eyes shut. Is this another head-rush? Am I about to get sick? What is happening? When her eyes opened, a blinding flare of white light burst from them, her tattoos blinking in unison. Those who had been exclaiming hushed at the sight, despite that the light flashed in only a single moment. A stunned silence rippled over the crowd until all that could be heard were the gentle tinkling sounds of the wind chimes, blown only by the breeze now since everyone had quite abruptly stopped bending. Everyone’s expression seemed to indicate a different reaction. If Tsering wasn’t sure whether others could see the whiteness that momentarily overtook her vision, the otherworldly glow that surged from her tattoos, she was certain now. Internally, she began to panic. What did this mean? She had heard stories from Yu and the older folks in the village of how Avatar Wan’s eyes had blazed in the color of fresh snow during instances where Raava’s power within him spilled forth. The legendary glowing white eyes of the Avatar. If anything, this confirmed the gnawing suspicion that had been building in Tsering ever since Yu told her the Avatar could never die, that it was a new Avatar’s time now. And right in front of the entire village. She could feel Miksha’s gaze boring into her back. Tsering felt like she couldn’t breathe, like she’d been knocked over by someone who had put their full weight onto her windpipe.

She forced herself to unfreeze when she remembered that they were all in the middle of one of the most important and sacred ceremonies held by Air Nomads. It was her turn to act, anyway, to push forward the conclusion of the ceremony. Traditionally, she was supposed to join in the masters’ Airbending to represent her joining their ranks, followed by the others who had not yet achieved mastery to represent their support of her and commitment to eventually mirror her accomplishment. However, seeing how everyone had stopped dead in their tracks, it was up to her. She raised both arms, bending her knees slightly to take up the Flowing Wind stance, and began to bend incense smoke around the temple again, ringing the chimes with fresh vigor. Taking one slow, deliberate step forward at a time, she held her stance and the incense in its circular whirl as she began to exit the temple. The Airbenders, as if smacked out of their shock, rose to their feet and quickly joined her in bending, forgetting the sacred order meant to herald good fortune for the new master. The procession that had neatly floated here was meant to continue away from the temple, this time led by the new master. Once she reached the top of the temple’s stairs, the three abbots hastily filed in behind her. The hairs on the back of her neck prickled with awareness of their inquisitive energy focused on her. In synchronization, the group quietly bent another cloud of air under their feet. Without looking back, the Air Nomads glided down the temple stairs and away from the site where the most important Airbending master in the world had just been anointed.

Chapter Text

“We need to talk,” Miksha hissed through gritted teeth in Tsering’s ear.

The ceremonial procession concluded in the center of the village, ending with the new master and the entire group exchanging ritualistic bows with their fists pressed together in the traditional Air Nomad way. It was made rather awkward by the unprecedented revelation of Tsering as, well, something other than human.

“I know you’re supposed to hold another silent vigil from now until tomorrow, but I’m afraid we need to discuss what happened back there.”

Tsering was afraid of that. Turkey-duckbumps ran over her skin as she followed the abbots towards the meditation pagoda, but not because of the cold. The evening was cloudy; the moon and stars hid from their view, and Tsering wished she could do the same. Her negative jing was basically non-existent at this point.

Under the pagoda, the four masters sat in awkward silence for several minutes. Despite the seemingly endless wisdom that poured from the abbots all the time, no one knew how to initiate the conversation. Aarav, in their soft-spoken manner, was the first attempt.

“Congratulations, Tsering. You are an Airbending master. You should feel proud of all that you have done to achieve this honor,” they said gently.

“Thank you, Sibling Aarav,” Tsering replied solemnly, bowing deeply; from her lotus position, her head almost touched the wooden floor. “I’m honored to accept the role of master. I promise that I will do everything that’s in my power to uphold our traditions and values.”

She meant what she said, but her words felt hollow and forced anyway. This was not what this conversation was meant to be about. It felt like the wide gaps between the pagoda’s supports were paned in glass; the air was suffocating. Spirits, please let this end soon.

“Tsering,” Miksha began. Tsering could sense, just in the way she said her name, that her guardian was struggling with everything she had to keep the bewilderment out of her voice. “What happened during your ceremony… the… light flashing in your eyes… that has never happened to any other Airbending master before. In fact, that has never happened to any other human before… except one.”

“Avatar Wan. I know,” Tsering responded. She had an idea of where to go from here, but she waited for one of the abbots to speak next.

“We have to admit, Tsering, that we don’t know what to make of this,” Norbu said matter-of-factly, shrugging. “You seem to be strongly connected to Avatar Wan, but there is no explanation for it. He was the only Avatar, the only human to ever unite with a spirit’s essence.”

Tsering smiled sweetly and shook her head. She had struggled to process it before, but the visions, her conversation with Yu, the many various occurrences which had seemed so random at the time, all made complete sense now. All along, this had been the thread that pulled her and Wan closer and closer, the link that transcended lifetimes, the simple fact she couldn’t doubt or ignore or run away from any longer. Her dreams were not unimportant images confined to her unconscious; they were messages, leaves of significance in a tree of wisdom that only she could climb. In this moment, she made up her mind. Tsering knew exactly who she was now, and they had to know, too.

“Wan was not the only Avatar. Tell me something, please. Did he die on the same day that I was born?”

The abbots were astonished. Miksha’s eyes widened to saucers. Tsering could see her hands trembling.

“He did, in fact,” Norbu answered, more taken aback than she had ever seen him. “How did you know–”

“The Avatar can never really die. Wan may have perished on the battlefield, but the light spirit is immortal. Raava lives in me, now. I’m the new Avatar.”

Finally saying it felt like the first time she opened the wings of her glider, the simultaneous blooming of so many moving parts that fit together perfectly. Hearing it aloud, something that she had thought over and over in her mind during meals, meditation sessions, training, even dreams, something she had wondered, but never truly believed until right now, felt magnificent. An involuntary smile leapt to Tsering’s face. The abbots looked like they had eaten too much spicy pickled cabbage.

“You’re… how can that be? How long have you known this? Why did you wait until now to tell us?” Miksha sounded genuinely hurt.

“Well, I didn’t really know for sure until my ceremony. But it all makes sense to me now, my dreams of Avatar Wan, my discussion with Yu about the Avatar, the–”

“Wait a moment. Yu, the lion turtle? You spoke with him? About this?” Norbu’s voice was hoarse with confusion. Tsering winced at her blunder and sighed. I guess someone was going to find out sooner or later.

“I actually speak with him about lots of things,” Tsering admitted. “We’ve been good friends since before my parents left.”

Miksha shook her head to clear the multitude of thoughts that were surely muddling it.

“What else do we not know?” Her tone had a bitter edge to it that made Tsering flinch. Aarav and Norbu both fixed their colleague with a worried glance.

“Well… during our meditation session last year when I turned fifteen, Wan spoke to me about more than just mastering Airbending,” Tsering confessed tentatively. “It was too much for me to handle at the time, so I kept it to myself. He told me he needed my help, because the world is full of violence. He didn’t say exactly why he needed me, though, but…” she hesitated. “…he did tell me he was proud of me for being able to Waterbend already.”

“You can Waterbend?!” Norbu exclaimed, staring at her with wonder. Tsering nodded.

If either of the male-bodied abbots were personally bothered by her keeping all of this from them until now, they didn’t show it; their faces only showed genuine surprise and amazement. Miksha, on the other hand, was visibly upset.

“Only a little bit,” Tsering said modestly, although the night in the storm had been much more than just a little bit. “I’ve only done it twice, and the first time was basically an accident.”

“She may truly be the new Avatar,” Aarav breathed, their eyes awash with admiration.

A long pause rolled over the Airbenders like the evening clouds.

“We will need more proof than your word before we take any further action, of course,” Norbu said. “We’ll see if you really can Waterbend soon, but for now, you have a silent vigil to take.”

“Stop,” Miksha interjected, a hand raised, shaking her head with eyes squeezed shut. She had abandoned the calm, abbot’s composure she usually tried so hard to maintain. “Stop everything. I need a moment alone with Tsering.” Aarav and Norbu bowed their heads in understanding. She was Tsering’s guardian, after all.

“Master Tsering,” Aarav acknowledged her as they rose with Norbu to exit the pagoda.

Tsering felt her heart lurch in excitement. It was the first time someone had referred to her as the master that she now was. She turned to face Miksha, looking her directly in the face for the first time this evening. The abbot’s eyes were watery.

“Tsering, I feel like I hardly know you at all,” she said, her voice quivering. “Why didn’t you tell me about Yu, about Avatar Wan, about your Waterbending? Do you not feel like you can trust me?”

“I’m sorry, Sister Miksha,” Tsering apologized, fidgeting with her wooden necklace. She felt terrible for the distress she was causing the woman who had been like a mother to her for longer than her own mother.

“I do trust you – I trust you with my life! I just… The other kids have never really been interested in being friends with me. Yu was the only true friend I ever had, and I guess I wanted our friendship to be something that was only mine. And Wan… everything was so confusing for so long; I didn’t know what to think about any of it. Things only became clear to me tonight, when Raava was… awakened, I guess.”

She paused. The storm in the abbot’s eyes softened, and she reached out and took Tsering’s tattooed hands in her own. She could feel her heartbeat pulsing through her fresh tattoos. Tsering noted that Miksha was the only person other than her parents who had ever touched her mismatched hands.

“You’ve been going through so much, and I’m making it about myself. Tsering, I’m so sorry.”

“No, Sister Miksha, it’s alright. I never meant to hurt your feelings, but I shouldn’t have kept you in the dark about such important things. It’s not every day we find out the Avatar reincarnates,” she said, laughing a bit at the extraordinary situation. From Miksha’s throat came a single chuckle tinged with sadness.

“Is it really true? How did you learn that?” she asked.

“Yu told me,” Tsering replied, “and I believe him, especially now. The feeling of Raava’s energy shining up inside of me was like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

The two Airbending masters sat together in the pagoda, lost in thought, for a long while. The crickets’ song seemed to soothe them along an impromptu meditation, until Miksha rose to her feet, smiling gently. She smoothed her robes, her elegant poise having returned.

“Well, this evening may have been far from conventional, but you still have a vigil to keep. You may remain here, or return to the temple, and you are not to leave whichever place you choose until sunrise,” she instructed. “Good night, Tsering,” she murmured.

“Good night, Sister Miksha,” Tsering softly called as the abbot left her alone with her thoughts.

Chapter Text

It wasn’t long before Tsering’s tattooed head sprouted peach fuzz. Cold wind flowed over her scalp as she soared over the clouds on her glider. The sky was mottled with colors she couldn’t believe she was seeing: shades of cobalt, scarlet, purple, gold, and even green. The watercolor sky was unlike anything she had ever seen; the rainbow of pigments filled her eyes until she grew overwhelmed and had to squeeze them shut. When she opened her eyes again, an army of flying lemurs had filled in on either side of her, chirping in a chorus. Tsering was astounded by the sheer number of animals gliding with her, the cacophony of noise they made. Suddenly, in unison, they began to breathe fire, flames exploding all around her, singeing her robes. With a yelp, Tsering stopped, hovering with her glider and letting the animals fly past her. The fire they breathed became a wall of flame, and they all flew through it, disappearing.

Suddenly, out of the blaze leapt dozens of people, some of whom she knew, some she didn’t recognize, all with various degrees of burns on their bodies. Tsering screamed as the people fell from where they jumped, hurtling downward like a human waterfall. She didn’t see Miksha, but Sister Chomdem, the village’s fourth head abbot that had left the temple on a journey several years ago, dropped and vanished below the clouds. She tried to scream again, tried to reach for her, but was stuck in place, her voice trapped inside her throat. The last people to emerge from the flames were her parents, but they weren’t burnt, and they didn’t fall. Instead, they walked on air toward her, fixing her with blank stares. Mother, father, she tried to shout, but they didn’t seem to hear her. She held her arms out to them, suddenly floating without her glider, but they walked right through her as if she were a ghost. She spun around and they were gone, their bodies turning to mist before her eyes. Below her, the clouds began to rise, a swollen ocean that enveloped her in a haze. Tsering lashed at the air uselessly, squeezing her eyes shut, coughing as the smell of smoke filled her nostrils.

Her eyes flew open, and she was in the girls’ sleeping quarters again, thrashing against the wooden floor. In her sleep, she had kicked her bedroll away from her; it lay crumpled against the wall. She was grateful to be at the very end of the row of sleeping girls.

Through the split in the center of the thick curtain that had been hung in the entryway to keep out the cold, Tsering could see that it was the middle of the night. Still panting from the gripping terrors of her nightmare, she dragged her bedroll back to its place beside her tray of toys. Slinging a cloth bag over her shoulder and grabbing her glider-stick from where she’d leaned it inconspicuously against the wardrobe in the corner that held fresh robes, she slipped through the curtain. The nights were quite cold now, cold enough for frost to gather at the edges of the fallen leaves, but she was warm – a true Airbending master could warm herself, after all.

Tsering headed for the fruit tree grove, running a hand over the fuzz on her skull, tracing her raised tattoos. She’d gather some persimmons and go for a fly, and that would clear her head, maybe. Each night since her master ceremony had been infiltrated with frightening visions that haunted her even after she woke. She wondered if it had anything to do with the abbots and a few of the senior monks and nuns leaving the village very suddenly the day after her vigil for an “important meeting,” with essentially no other details. Tsering walked through the trees, dark and silent save for the lazy chittering of sleepy lemurs. Dropping her bag, she swiped her glider-stick from left to right in front of her, and a blade of air sliced at the surrounding branches. A dozen or so persimmons fell in the darkness, and, sweeping her free hand in a big circle, she bent a river of air that caught them all before they hit the ground, funneling them into the bag. It’s a good thing I can see in the dark, Tsering thought with a smirk, hoisting her haul back onto her shoulders and springing effortlessly into the sky.

The Eastern mountain range hadn’t been in her nightmares. Still, in the dim light offered by the moon, only a wedge of its full self, the jagged peaks looked exceptionally dreamy. Tsering flew towards them with no real purpose in mind; they simply called out to her. Landing on a high plateau where she could see both her home village and the unfamiliar ones that glittered far away across the water, she pulled out a fruit to eat. It was half-frozen, but ripe and flavorful regardless. The moonlight flickered over the surface of the sea that stretched between her and the outside world. With all the lessons she had been given about the four elements, the natures of the people and animals that controlled each, and the rest of the world in all its fantastic, dazzling wonder, it felt unjust that she’d never been allowed to go and see it. Every master in the village had a tamed air bison companion, but they almost never crossed the mountains to the lands past the sea anymore. Miksha had only taken Tsering for a ride over the village a handful of times on her bison, Kokoro, who had rare all-brown fur except for a white face, belly, and arrow markings. Otherwise, the Airbenders’ bison nested in the forests and caves around the system of cliffs where Tsering always met Yu, frolicking with their wild neighbors. She frowned. The state of the world had caused many of the Air Nomads to, well, forget how to be nomads. The recent departure of nearly every authority figure in the village was a very rare circumstance these days, indeed. What could possibly be an important enough cause for so many Airbending masters to leave all at once? Perhaps the unveiling of a new master? Or a new Avatar?

Tsering shook her head vigorously. It has nothing to do with me. They haven’t even seen me Waterbend yet.

A deep growl from behind her interrupted her thoughts, and her eyebrows raised in surprise. Without turning around, Tsering knew that it was an air bison; it was like the creature had read her mind, appearing as she was deep in thought about its kind. She carefully turned from where she’d been gazing pensively out at the endless expanse of water and earth to look at the large floating animal staring intently at her. How curious, she thought as she looked into the bison’s eyes, which were a much lighter brown than typical bisons’. It didn’t resemble any of the bison that her people had tamed; it was wild. This was a very strange occurrence, an air bison out and about at this hour, especially alone, without the rest of its herd. Perhaps, like her, it had simply ventured out to stretch its legs after a restless slumber. Or maybe it was just… a loner. Also like her.

Tsering’s eyes widened in disbelief when she looked up and saw that it had one brown horn and one white horn – the bison she had seen in her dreams. She blinked hard, her heart racing.

“Is this a dream?” she asked the bison. He cocked his head at her, lowing, his cream-colored horn glinting in the moonlight.

Slowly, Tsering reached into her bag and pulled out a persimmon, holding it out to him. If she was, in fact, asleep right now, she was grateful to finally have a peaceful dream for the first time in what felt like forever. The bison floated closer, his massive tail swaying up and down as he sniffed the fruit before gently taking it in his mouth. Tsering grinned as the animal’s huge lip grazed her hand. Her heartbeat was a stampede of hopping llamas in her chest.

“You like persimmons too, huh?” she asked, wondering if it was a common favorite among huge, flying animals.

The bison suddenly leaned forward and nuzzled her, the huge furry arrow on his forehead swiping back and forth over her robes. Tsering, taken aback, hugged his head, before he pulled away, his nose leading him to her bag. Snuffling, he nudged it onto its side, spilling the persimmons onto the stone. The bison lapped them up, snorting in satisfaction as he swallowed the fruits. Tsering laughed.

“Hey! Those are mine! You could at least share them!” she exclaimed, giggling as he pushed his pillowy forehead into her again. When was the last time something made her giggle? Had anything ever made her giggle? It was an unfamiliar sensation in her throat, but a welcome one.

“Do you want to be my friend… Pingdeng?”

Chapter Text

The air masters returned to the village while Tsering slept in. When she stepped out into the late morning sunlight, the three abbots were waiting for her outside the girls’ sleeping hut.

“Good morning, Tseri– wait, is it still morning?” Miksha looked up at the sky dramatically, as if to emphasize they’d been waiting for her for a while.

“It’s very good to see you again,” Aarav said, offering her a smile that shimmered up through their gray eyes as they bowed respectfully. “We apologize for our hurried leave before. Please follow us.”

Tsering expected that they’d head for the pagoda where they held their extra meditation sessions. Instead, they walked in the opposite direction, towards the temple where she’d been anointed a master. She could hear the daily activity of the Air Nomads all around the village: people training, playing, and chatting as they worked. As they arrived at the temple grounds, Tsering noticed there was no one else around. She could guess why – at this time of day, there would be a group of villagers harvesting fruit from the trees near the pagoda to make sweet rice and pies. The abbots clearly wanted to speak to her in a place with absolutely no one else nearby. They ascended the stairs and sat in a circle in the center of the wooden building; it still smelled faintly like the incense from her ceremony.

“First, we need to speak with you about something… unrelated to you,” Norbu began. “The reason why we left.”

Tsering noticed the worried hesitation from her superiors.

“Is something wrong, Siblings?” she asked.

“Yes,” Miksha answered pointedly. “Do you remember when I mentioned disturbing things going on after I found you on the training grounds?” Tsering nodded. Miksha sighed. “Well, normally, we wouldn’t involve such a young master, but seeing how you… might be the… new Avatar, we felt it a necessity.”

The second half of Miksha’s sentence was strained, as if she genuinely couldn’t believe what she was saying. Tsering couldn’t blame her.

There was a long pause; the abbots seemed to be struggling to tell her whatever it was that they brought her here for.

“What is it?” Tsering asked, anxiety creeping up the back of her neck.

“Sister Chomdem is missing,” Norbu finally said.

“What… what do you mean, she’s missing?”

“It means that she left the temple many years ago, and we have not had any contact with her for approximately three years,” Miksha replied. “We would receive periodic letters from her about her journey and her wellbeing, but it has been much, much too long since her last message. We have no idea where she is, or if she’s alright.”

Tsering’s eyebrows furrowed. “Well… I’ve never gotten anything from my parents since they left,” she mumbled, a flicker of bitterness in her belly. “Is it typical for Air Nomads to write home?”

“No, it’s not,” Aarav said, their voice silky and soothing. “Air Nomads do not usually attempt to communicate with anyone from their home village when embarking on a pilgrimage. The purpose of many of those trips is to detach from what grounds us, from home, in order to reach spiritual enlightenment and learn about the rest of the world.”

“Yes, however, Sister Chomdem was not on a journey for spiritual enlightenment. She has already been on that pilgrimage,” Norbu elaborated. “She left to try to find and connect with people from other air lion turtles around the world, to seek out locations where other Airbenders are living. Her travels warranted regular updates.” The worry in his voice was palpable.

“Well… what should we do?” Tsering was at a loss. Too many things were happening, and at too rapid a pace.

“First, we need to confirm that you really are the new Avatar,” Norbu said. “If you really are Avatar Wan’s, eh, reincarnation, then that means that you have spiritual powers and intuitions far beyond ours… therefore, I suppose it’s our responsibility to ask you for help in this matter. And to help you too, of course,” he added hastily when her eyes widened.

First the Avatar himself begs for my help, and now the leaders of my village?! Tsering felt the pressure of her new identity sending ripples of stress up the muscles in her back and shoulders.

“I know this is a lot to take in,” Miksha murmured, reaching for her. “Again, I’m sorry that we left so suddenly after your ceremony. We needed to consult the spirits about everything that’s been happening. There are simply too many unanswered questions,” she said, her hand cool on Tsering’s arm.

“You communed with spirits?! Did they have anything to say about me?” Tsering asked, perking up.

Aside from in her dreams, Tsering had never been to the Spirit World or met any spirits – unless Avatar Wan counted. Many of the senior Airbenders of the village claimed that through intense training and meditation, they were able to transcend the mystical, invisible barriers between realms and enter the Spirit World, even before Wan closed the spirit portals. She was awfully curious about the process. The air masters said that the Spirit World was different for every individual who made it there, a manifestation of the mortal being’s soul, and that the spirits who chose to appear before someone were often influenced by that person’s inner spirit. Tsering wondered if she would ever be spiritually enlightened enough to get there. What were the spirits like? Were they really like what her parents described, with infinite forms and otherworldly powers?

“We did inquire about the possibility of Avatar Wan reincarnating,” Aarav said, stroking their unshorn salt-and-pepper beard. Usually, they kept their facial hair very short, but it had grown a bit from its usual neat stubble; the abbots must have come and found her immediately after returning, without even taking time for grooming.

“Their response was unclear. They simply said that Raava had finally reemerged. They all seemed pleased,” they added.

Tsering wasn’t sure what to say – it was like the spirits had intentionally given a vague response. Still, their claiming that Raava had “finally reemerged” immediately after her ceremony was an awfully funny coincidence. Tsering wondered what the spirits would have to say if she herself visited the Spirit World – if they could sense Raava from outside their own realm, imagine how they would react if they got to meet her again, face-to-face.

Norbu rose to his feet, clapping his tattooed hands together.

“Well, let’s get to the bottom of it, then,” he said decidedly. “We’re going to travel to Saang Island, where the three of us just returned from. The island has a very high spiritual energy, so hopefully it will have a positive effect on your spirit as well.”

“Great! We can take my air bison,” Tsering said with a grin. “I need to learn how to ride him anyway.”

The abbots gaped at her.

“Your… air bison?” Miksha sounded like she had spent the last remaining air in her lungs to ask. Tsering knew why. Usually, it took years for even the most spiritual and skilled air masters to tame and bond with a wild air bison. The abbots had not even been gone for one week. Tsering nodded casually.

“Yes. I just met him, but we’re friends now,” she said. She thought back to the previous night, and how the bison’s gentle eyes had shone in recognition when she gave him a name, their connection solidified over shared persimmons.

“Avatar Wan had a way with animals, as well,” Aarav mused softly, unable to hide the amazement in their tone either.

“Well, let’s go and meet your new friend,” Miksha declared with a smile. Tsering was grateful for her guardian’s unconditional support, despite the many groundbreaking surprises she had brought her way recently.

The Airbending masters, Tsering walking with her closed glider-stick in the lead, picked their way towards the overhang where she met Yu. She would have to decide a name for the location. Lion Turtle’s Cliff sounded good.

“Pingdeng?” she called into the greenery opposite the cliff’s edge.

After their snack, they had flown around the mountains for a while together before she’d left him here to rest. She hoped he was still here, a jolt of worry in her chest that her new friend had moved on. Her heart leapt when she heard his low rumble followed by plants rustling in the wake of a great beast. The bison with the mismatched horns emerged, part of a bush caught in his white horn, his fur sticking up in different directions. Tsering laughed at his unkempt coat.

She opened her mouth to introduce him to the abbots when suddenly, the sharp whinny of a hopping llama pierced the serene afternoon air. The animal burst into view, followed by several others. Pingdeng, still half-asleep, was startled. He roared and slapped his tail to the ground, pushing himself up into the air and over the cliff’s edge, raining leaves and twigs over the four Airbenders. Monkey feathers! Tsering shook open the fans of her air glider.

“Wait! It’s alright!” she called, flying after him.

It wasn’t until they were halfway to the Eastern mountain range that she was able to hover in front of his face, speaking softly, and calm him enough to return to Lion Turtle’s Cliff with her. Now it was Norbu and Aarav who looked like they had the wind knocked out of them.

“That device… what…” For once, Norbu was at a complete loss for words as Tsering landed beside them, Pingdeng in tow. In her haste to keep the bison from flying away, possibly forever, Tsering had completely forgotten that her and Miksha were keeping the glider a secret for now.

“It’s an air glider,” Miksha explained, turning to him and Aarav. “Tsering invented it herself. It’s used to glide on air currents with Airbending. Once she completely masters it, we’re going to make more and share her gift with the village.”

Tsering noticed that the idea of others using her creation didn’t make her upset anymore. The two male-bodied abbots nodded quietly, seeming to accept that being around Tsering meant that everything they had ever known was likely to be turned upside down. Pingdeng grunted uneasily, nudging her from behind with his nose.

“And this,” she said, turning to her newfound friend, “is Pingdeng.”

In the light of day, the subtleties of the bison’s unique markings could be observed. In addition to his multicolored horns, his six paws were also an assortment of white and brown, and his cream-colored coat had large splashes of a lighter white. Half of the arrow on his head was dark brown, and half was light brown.

A tear ran down Tsering’s cheek. He was just like her.

Miksha came to stand beside her, basking in the animal’s gentle gaze. He had incredibly beautiful eyes. She could already tell that the two had formed an instant bond. She looked from the bison to his new companion. Among a whirl of difficult news, intense training, abnormal ceremonies, and new identities, the girl had found a new friend. It had taken Kokoro almost three years to finally behave toward Miksha in the way that Pingdeng already was with her. Maybe Tsering was the new Avatar after all. She retrieved the long rope she had brought from her robe pocket and handed it to her.

“Only the bison’s companion can attach his reins,” she said encouragingly.

Tsering already knew what to do. She boosted herself onto the back of Pingdeng’s huge neck and crawled between his horns. Her watery eyes fell to her own mismatched hands. She rubbed the animal’s soft fur as tears fell onto it. Pingdeng grumbled affectionately as she tied the rope to one horn, then another. Tsering sat back, sniffling, and practiced flicking the thin rope. It simply felt right. The abbots lifted themselves onto Pingdeng’s bare back. They’d have to get the bison a saddle after this journey, but now, it was time to take off. Miksha moved to a position behind Tsering, where she could help guide her. Norbu and Aarav sat next to each other not far away.

“Do you know what to say?” Miksha asked her. Tsering grinned, nodding.

“Yip yip,” she whispered excitedly, snapping the reins.

Pingdeng huffed in response, his tail lifting up and down again as he rose into the air at her command. The bison floated higher and higher until Yu and the village looked small below. The three abbots clutched his fur, the wind sending their robes billowing out behind them. Tsering whooped in glee, reveling in the feeling of the wind blasting her face. Maybe she had grown accustomed to this feeling from flying with her glider, but now, it was magnified on the back of her very own air bison. Miksha gazed at the young Airbender’s back, at the light blue tattoos running across the middle of her dappled brown skull into the top of her robes. Whether she was part spirit or not, she could tell that Tsering’s whole world was at the cusp of a dramatic turning point.

Chapter Text

“There’s Saang Island!” Miksha shouted over the breeze, her low ponytail fluttering behind her. She pointed at the small island, a thin strip of remote land that looked relatively sparse from their position in the sky. Tsering flicked the rope, and Pingdeng turned so the tiny islet was directly between his horns. The journey had taken just under two hours. Tsering was amazed; on her air glider, it would’ve likely taken at least all the daylight hours to get there. While most of the masters of the village were too nervous to take their bison anywhere these days, Tsering was filled with a glittering eagerness for travel, to wander freely and experience the world as their elders and ancestors had.

As they neared the island, she saw it wasn’t as barren as she’d thought. Small groves of trees clustered around several circular rock formations, leaning their branches in towards the stones. It was a curious sight.

Now, the toughest part of flying… landing. Tsering took Pingdeng down as gently as she could, but the descent still made the Airbenders bounce where they sat.

“How did it feel to fly on your very own bison for the first time?” Norbu asked once their feet touched down on the rocky beach.

“Sort of like flying with my glider for the first time,” Tsering answered, tossing Pingdeng a persimmon from her bag as they strolled away from him. “Exhilarating. Liberating. Everything I dreamed it would be.”

“Good,” he replied with a smile. “It’s supposed to feel that way.”

The first rock formation they approached looked very much like the one at the top of Centering Hill back in the village, only much, much older. The air symbols carved into them had been worn down by weather, and moss grew over much of the area. Despite the tree cover around most of the clearing, the wind coming from the sea was bitterly cold. Tsering shivered and focused on warming herself with her breathing as they sat down in the center of the circle.

“Let’s meditate first, to get ourselves in the right mindset,” Miksha suggested.

The Airbenders fell into silence, their eyes closed. The song of the sea washing over the rocks on all sides of the tiny island was incredibly soothing. Tsering blocked out all the thoughts coursing through her mind, focusing only on the sounds of water lapping against earth. The waves began to echo themselves, reverberating through her eardrums. The energy here was spiritually charged, that much was certain. She could feel the push and pull of the sea, could feel energy pushing and pulling on her. Was she rocking in place, or did it just feel like she was? Tsering felt like she was on Pingdeng’s back, only he was swimming instead of flying, a living ferry gently floating her towards the hazy space between realms. I can’t wait to visit the Spirit World.

“Tsering,” a voice that wasn’t any of the abbots’ gently murmured. Her eyes opened, just a crack. She could already guess who it was.

“Wan,” she replied softly. For some reason, she couldn’t bring her voice to its regular register, yet the water had grown louder. It was as if the sea itself was reaching over and gently carrying her voice to the spirit of the first Avatar that glowed blue in front of her.

“Tsering, before you show the abbots who you are, I need you to know something… about the Avatar Cycle,” he said. His voice was the next tender wave over stone, engulfing her senses.

“The Avatar Cycle?” she asked. Out of everything she had been taught about Wan, about the life of the Avatar, she had never heard of the Avatar Cycle before. He nodded.

“The Avatar Cycle makes up who we are, and who we become. It mirrors the cycle of the seasons. Summer, autumn, winter, spring, and summer again; fire, air, water, earth, and fire again. Like the seasons, the Avatar keeps the world in balance. So, you can’t stray from that natural order.

“Aside from air, you’ve been naturally drawn to water. That’s because water is the next element in the cycle,” he explained. “You’ve mastered Airbending, and next, you will master Waterbending. After that, you will master Earthbending, and finally, Firebending. You must master each element as it is in the cycle, and you can’t break that chain, or you risk upsetting the natural balance.”

Tsering was surprised at how frankly Wan spoke about the two elements that she had not bent yet. So far, earth and fire had not been addressed at all in their meetings, and she hadn’t given them much thought on her own, either. It was hard to believe that she was no longer just an Airbender; she would eventually become a Waterbender, an Earthbender, and a Firebender, too.

“Does that make sense, Tsering?”

He was looking at her intensely. Tsering could sense he really needed her to comprehend this before he left her. She wondered what would happen if she strayed from the Avatar Cycle, but doubted that he knew either. Better to not ask and just heed his advice. Air, water, earth, and then fire.

“Got it,” she said, nodding deeply. He smiled at her, pleased with her understanding.

“Now go show them who the Avatar is,” he said excitedly.

Wan’s form began to fade before her eyes. She could see Miksha, Aarav, and Norbu meditating silently behind him. Somehow, Tsering knew that they were not privy to this conversation between Avatars; she must be communicating with Wan outside of her own physical body somehow. Does that mean that every time I speak with Wan, I’m slightly in the Spirit World?

Tsering suddenly reached out to him.

“Wait! One more thing, please,” she called quietly, her voice still muffled by the sweet, heavy energy of the sea. “Raava… can I talk to her like I’ve been talking to you? When will that happen?”

Wan paused. He was translucent to the point where his form was just an icy blue whisper now, a thin veil between Tsering and the physical realm.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “All I know is that she is awake inside of you now. The other spirits are very excited to meet her again.”

And with that, he flashed her a charmingly crooked grin and melted into the stone.

“Taming an air bison in one day, inventing a new Airbending tool, communing with spirits with very little effort… it is almost unnecessary for us to see you Waterbend to know that you are the Avatar!” Aarav proclaimed after Tsering told the abbots she’d just communicated with Wan again. She blushed at their praise as the four of them stood before the Eastern sea in all its vivacious glory. It was cloudy, and the choppy water was the blue-green hue of a peacock-deer’s tail. Tsering could relate to the sea’s current state; she also felt more empowered in autumn.

“I’d still like to see her Waterbend,” Miksha admitted. Tsering looked at her guardian. Miksha winked at her. “Let’s see it!”

Tsering breathed in and out. The only two times she had bent water had been in extremely emotional states, but now, she was calm and at ease. She was suddenly aware of the fact that she had no formal bending training for any element other than air, either. What stances was she supposed to take? How was she supposed to feel the water? Probably in a way that flows like air, she thought to herself, appreciating how similar the next element in the Avatar Cycle was to her native element.

Tsering took up the Flowing Wind stance, hoping the Airbending pose would somehow translate to Waterbending. She concentrated on the azure water in front of them, moving her arms in small loops in front of her. Tsering, having no clue if she was doing the right thing, scooped upward and towards herself as if she were going to reach down and collect a bit of the sea in her palm to drink. Much to her surprise, she summoned a thin stream of sea water. Tsering could feel it as soon as it entered her grasp. Like with Airbending, she could feel the water’s path, how it moved fluidly, and how she was completely, utterly, undeniably connected to it. Tsering instinctively moved her arms in sweeping movements to guide the water. As if alive, it snaked around in front of them before she beckoned it towards herself. The water circled around her neck, close enough that her skin prickled from the cold it emanated.

Her skill was still lacking, and as she could feel it escaping her control, Tsering sent the small piece of the sea she’d borrowed back into itself. She panted from the effort, her hands on her knees. Tsering remembered how much energy it used to take to perform intermediate Airbending moves. Now she was a master Airbender, and eventually, she’d be a master Waterbender, too.

“Holy hawk-raven feathers… I can’t believe it,” Miksha breathed. Tsering looked at her with wide eyes; she had never heard any of the abbots use such an informal expression before.

“You can Waterbend,” her guardian uttered in disbelief. “You’re… you’re the Avatar.”

Miksha sank down on her knees in the gravely sand. Her and Norbu were staring forward at the sea, completely dazed. Aarav looked like they could start weeping. They, too, dropped down to the ground, except to do something Tsering never expected from one of the leaders of her village: they bowed in reverence to her, an extremely formal act, with their palms and forehead against the earth.

“Avatar Tsering.” Their whisper was heavy with emotion.

It was the first time anyone had referred to her as such; the words sent turkey-duckbumps over Tsering’s entire body.

“I had no idea this was possible, but it is an honor to be in the presence of Avatar Wan’s next life,” they said, their voice trembling. Tsering was completely taken aback. All her life, she had been bowing to them; they were her superior, her leader, her elder. Now, they prostrated before her. It was a strange sight, the renowned senior master bowing to the inexperienced new one. Tsering knelt in front of them.

“Like I said after my ceremony, I promise that I’ll do everything in my power to uphold our customs and values,” she said.

Aarav looked up at her, their eyes watery. It was the closest she had ever seen them come to crying in front of her. She smiled at them.

“And, as the new Avatar, I promise that I’m going to do everything I can to help you all find Sister Chomdem. It’s time I left the village and saw the world, anyway.”

“Well, wait a moment,” Norbu interjected. “This is all wonderful, but the world is dangerous, and you’re young. How can we justify you risking your life for our mission when you have your own now?”

“I thought you said that since I’m the Avatar, it was your responsibility to ask me for help,” she said, puzzled at the abbot’s sudden change of heart. “And what do you mean, I have my own mission now?”

“Well, you must master all four elements. It’s what Avatar Wan did. You’re supposed to bring balance to the whole world, and you can’t do that while you’re worrying about the troubles of our little village,” Norbu said hesitantly, as if he felt bad about saying such things. “I know you care about Sister Chomdem as much as we do, but I think you should prioritize becoming a fully-developed Avatar first.”

Tsering almost scoffed at him.

“I can’t prioritize all four elements when Sister Chomdem is missing right now,” she retorted. “Our little village is still a part of the world, and Sister Chomdem’s absence is an upset to our balance.

“Besides, we were taught that it took Avatar Wan much of his adult life to fully master the four elements; if Sister Chomdem is in some kind of trouble, I can’t wait that long. I’ll just have to learn the other elements along the way. Do you have any idea at all where she is?”

There was a pause. Miksha rose to her feet. The abbots all glanced at each other.

“The last time we heard from her, she had already made a connection with some Airbenders living to the west of us, in the mountainous islands of the South Sea. She’d been staying with them and learning about them, and left their care to travel further north. She mentioned hearing about a large city sprouting up on the western outskirts of the Si Wong Desert, and was planning on stopping there, if she could find it. That was the last update we got from her, three years ago,” Miksha said, disturbed.

Tsering had heard of the Si Wong Desert, but not of the mountains in the South Sea. The fact that there were other Airbenders only a few days away by air bison made her excited. Perhaps her parents were there, resting and recuperating before returning home to the village. Perhaps she’d see her father’s bison, Kumo, cresting the horizon any moment now – it was a thought that was in the back of her mind often. Or, perhaps they were across the world, or even lost, like Chomdem. Tsering frowned. The village’s fourth abbot could be anywhere. Three years was a long time to not hear from someone, and there was still so much about the world that she didn’t know. She simply had too many questions, about the Southern Airbenders, the desert, her new identity, Waterbending… Tsering shook her head, rubbing her temples. So far, Avatarhood seemed like a real headache. No wonder Wan wanted to pass the burden on to someone else.

“Tseri– ah, Avatar, it’s alright,” Aarav said gently, reaching their hand toward her for comfort, but retracting it quickly, as if they weren’t sure if touching the Avatar was allowed.

Tsering grimaced, remembering the last time someone had purposefully refrained from touching her. She needed to talk to Lobsang sooner or later.

“I think I can see my path now,” Tsering said finally. “I’m going to leave the village to look for Sister Chomdem, and along the way, I’m going to start learning Waterbending. Is there a water lion turtle near the Si Wong Desert?”

As the words left her mouth, she realized how ridiculous they sounded. Miksha looked like she was holding in a laugh; if the two were alone, it was likely she would’ve poked fun at her absurd question.

“Well… seeing how it’s a desert, it’s very doubtful. But regardless, the lion turtles don’t give humans their bending abilities anymore, remember? We learn from the original benders of our element, and in turn, from each other.”

“Right,” Tsering sighed, glancing behind them toward the part of the beach where Pingdeng waited for them. The bison appeared to be asleep, his shoulders rising and falling in a slow rhythm. I wonder what he could teach me about Airbending, she thought, remembering that air bison like him were the original benders of her native element. Even though she was an air master now, she still had much to learn, and was more than happy to acknowledge that.

“As far as we know, a large amount of Waterbenders have gathered in the North Pole, where we have heard they are developing a settlement,” Norbu said. “The original Waterbender is the moon itself; they say its energy is most powerful in the North.”

“The moon... Aside from today, I’ve only been able to Waterbend on the night of the full moon,” Tsering said in realization. The abbots looked thoughtful.

“That makes sense. Many Waterbenders draw their power from the moon. Some draw their power from the oceans and seas, as well. I’m sure you will learn more when you begin your Waterbending training in earnest. I honestly can’t believe I’m saying these words to you,” Miksha said with a laugh, pulling her ward into an excited embrace. “You are actually the Avatar. It’s incredible!”

“I know,” Tsering said with a smile, soaking up Miksha’s warmth as another frigid gust of wind swept over the four of them. “I can hardly believe it myself.”

Norbu scratched at the dark hairs sprouting up on his pale scalp. Tsering remembered that the abbots hadn’t taken the time to clean themselves up after their journey, feeling a pang of shame for taking up this time that they should’ve spent rejuvenating.

“Let’s all return to the village and relax,” Aarav suggested, as if they’d read her mind. “It has been an eventful few days.”

“Yes,” Miksha agreed. “To your air bison, Avatar!”

Chapter Text

The large waterfall that Tsering had found half-concealed in a massive cave system on one of her air glider journeys had nearly doubled in size with recent rains. She sat behind the falls in the mouth of one of the smaller caves, close enough to feel the icy spray. Soon, the first snows of the season would come. The frosty daylight through the roaring water illuminated the dark gray stone of the cavern in a steely light. It was downright freezing here, and Tsering’s breath billowed out in front of her in visible clouds, but she felt comfortable as she meditated, letting her thoughts tumble down the cliff with the cascade in front of her. The light brown fuzz was already thickening on her head – come next summer, it would probably be time to shave the top part of it off again.

The caves were very resonant; she could hear the footsteps approaching along the footpath outside even with the crashing falls. A lanky figure leaned around the wall, and despite her eyes being closed, she could feel that she was being observed.

“I didn’t think you would actually come,” she admitted, opening her eyes.

“I didn’t either,” Lobsang replied, stalking into the cavern and flinching against the waterfall’s spray as he reluctantly sat across from her.

The two young Airbenders sat in silence for what felt like half an hour. Tsering had closed her eyes again to collect her thoughts, while Lobsang glanced awkwardly around at the stalactites and stalagmites.

“I think I know how you feel about me, but I wanted to talk about it with you before I left the village.” Tsering broke the silence at last, looking into his face until his gray eyes finally met hers. She spotted some brown stubble beginning to sprout along his jawline. Since she’d put more distance between herself and the rest of their peers to focus more on her own chaotic life, she hadn’t noticed that he was starting to become a man.

“You’re leaving? Why?” Lobsang asked.

He broke their eye contact, staring instead at the walls that matched his irises. The cold sent an aggressive shiver through his body. Tsering was surprised that he hadn’t fully gotten the hang of temperature regulation yet.

 “I have an important journey to make,” she replied.

Quite frankly, the details were none of his business.

“I just wanted you to know before I go that I was never trying to hurt your feelings or outshine you by becoming a master first. I know how much it meant to you that you were the best in the group, but I promise, my progress wasn’t about you.”

She was being sincere, but Lobsang snorted.

“Outshine me? No, I’m… I’m over that. I don’t like you because you are incredibly pompous,” he spat. “You have always acted like you’re better than the rest of us. Maybe you are a better Airbender than us,” he continued, “but you let your special treatment from the abbots get in your head. Acting like you’re too special to attend group activities, skipping chores around the village, trying to solve all our problems when we were younger, like you were too good to ever have a disagreement with someone. Everyone can see that you’re as proud as a peacock-deer. Even the way you just said you have an ‘important journey to make’ just screams to me that you feel superior.”

Tsering was completely taken aback by the venom in his words. All this time, she thought his glares in her direction were rooted in jealousy, not disdain. All this time, she had tried to offer only peace and kindness to her village, even when her peers made her feel like an outsider, and somehow, they believed her arrogant for it.

Everyone can see… She flinched as she wondered if all the air children disliked her, if they gossiped when she wasn’t around, if Lobsang spoke like this about her regularly. Then, it occurred to her that Lobsang didn’t know her at all. None of their peers did. If their interpretation of her actions showed anything, it was how incapable they were of viewing things from her perspective. She clenched her jaw as fresh anger washed over her.

“You think I act like I’m better than you?! I only act like I’m different, because that’s how everyone has always treated me! All my life, all the other kids pushed me away, including you, one of the few people our age who I actually thought I could become friends with.

”You all truly have no idea what my life is like. None of you ever bothered to get to know me, you just took me at face value,” she countered, gesturing to the patch of bright white skin on her otherwise brown face.

Now, it was Lobsang who recoiled. It felt practically euphoric to finally acknowledge the hurt that had weighed on her heart for so long. Tsering nearly started smiling from the relief and adrenaline that flooded her body; she had, without a doubt, mastered the positive jing that she would need for Firebending in the future.

“Well, uh… what is your life like? What has been going on with you? How… How did you master air so quickly?”

Lobsang’s voice had shrank. He clearly knew that what she said was true, but couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge it in the moment; like many Airbenders during confrontation, it suited him better to deflect with negative jing.

Tsering stared at him. Did he and the rest of the village really not know, even after seeing her eyes glow at her master ceremony?

“Lobsang… I’m the Avatar.”

The young man looked like she’d slapped him across the face.

“What did you say?” he asked.

“I said, I am the Avatar. I’m Avatar Wan’s reincarnation,” she emphasized, a tattooed hand on her chest.

Every time she professed her identity to someone else, despite their shocked reactions, it strengthened her confidence in it. But Lobsang only shook his head slowly.

“That’s not… p-possible,” he stuttered. “Wan died… th-the light spirit…”

His voice was a cascade itself. Tsering knew how much time he’d spent pondering Raava’s return to the world. He could not have expected that the light spirit would come back in the form of a person he had grown to dislike so much. Alongside everyone else, the news of her Avatarhood was completely upending everything he thought he knew.

“I didn’t think it was possible either, but it is. Raava has returned to the world, through me. Don’t you remember my ceremony?” she said, bringing her closed fingers up next to her eyes and opening them to illustrate the light that had come from them.

“No,” he breathed, holding his head in his hands as if the new information had given him a migraine.

“Based on what Avatar Wan and I have spoken about, I think I speak for the both of us when I say yes,” she said, trying to hold back her exasperation. Lobsang rose to his feet in haste.

“I don’t believe you,” Lobsang cried out, overwhelmed. “I don’t… It can’t be true!”

He backed away from her. Tsering frowned; so far, this was the worst anyone had taken it. She’d expected him to understand, seeing how he’d been the first to know she was having dreams about Wan in the first place. She found herself regretting she’d said anything to him at all, a familiar feeling from that day in the fruit tree grove a long time ago.

“I’m sorry for how we treated you,” he blurted before he ran towards the footpath outside the cave and out of sight.

Tsering sat in silence for a long time, staring at the thundering waterfall, pondering the apology that she had been waiting for all her life.

The last wisps of pastel yellow sunlight flickered over the horizon, a flame too far away now to feel. The sky had put on a show for Tsering’s last sunset in her home, with a dramatic burst of gold that seeped into the clouds and immersed the village in a heavenly light. Now, her and Miksha sat on the floor of the temple, quietly scrutinizing a Pai Sho board under honey lantern light. A platter of steamed buns and two half-eaten bowls of sweet rice, some of Tsering’s favorite foods, sat beside them. It had been quite a while since their last Pai Sho games, and Tsering was happy to play again. Sometimes, there was no need for words, and the silent language of the ancient game was enough. Still, Tsering wondered what Miksha was thinking. Maybe she pondered the adventure the Avatar was about to embark on. Perhaps her thoughts wandered to Sister Chomdem, fretting over her location. Or, maybe her mind was blank, focused intently on calculating the perfect move to beat Tsering for the fifth time in a row. So far, the odds appeared to be in the Avatar’s favor, who had an almost-complete harmony ring of flower tiles constructed around the center of the board, but she wouldn’t put it past the older woman to completely overthrow her with one sweep of the white lotus tile – that was Miksha’s trick, after all.

“How long has this game existed?” Tsering asked, breaking the silence. Miksha didn’t look up from the wooden board.

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “No one knows exactly where Pai Sho came from. It’s said that it has existed since before humanity, that spirits played the game long before we did.”

A wide smile spread across the abbot’s face. Tsering wondered if Miksha would look any different when she returned, whether the abbot would appear to have aged at all, or if she would find Chomdem and start mastering Waterbending before time had a chance to wrinkle her guardian’s beautiful ochre skin. With a smug grin, Miksha bent a tiny raft of air that carried the white lotus tile across the board, executing the exact move that she had clearly been scheming up for the last fifteen minutes. The older Airbender couldn’t suppress a cocky laugh as the tile landed in a winning position.

“I win again!” she hollered, slapping her crossed knee. “But that was a great effort, Tsering. You almost had me that time!”

Tsering made a face feigning hurt feelings, but quickly joined Miksha in her laughter. No matter who won, they always had fun together.

“You and your white lotus,” Tsering chuckled, bending a whirl of air over the board that subsided after all the pieces had been neatly stacked in the center, organized by type. She was proud of how easily she could perform the same casual little bending feats that used to make her jaw drop when she would watch Miksha do them.

“Maybe when I come back, I’ll have picked up enough skills to beat you more than once every eighty games,” she said in fake exasperation.

“We’ll see,” Miksha replied, still snickering as she turned and pulled a piece of paper from her robe. “Actually, that reminds me. I wanted to give you this. It’s the most updated map of the world we have here in the village. I marked the region where Sister Chomdem claimed to have been traveling to.”

She pointed to where she’d circled the southwestern part of a vast expanse of land. Tsering’s heart skipped a beat when she compared it to the small illustration of the Eastern mountain range, and the tiny drawing of Yu beside it, the village she had just about never left. She had never seen a map quite like this before; the world sketched out before her seemed endless.

“Thank you so much,” Tsering breathed, studying the map in all its glory.

Her stomach twisted itself into knots as she surveyed the mountains, seas, and islands that had been carefully outlined. I’m going into this world tomorrow.

Tsering strolled through the dense persimmon trees one last time, enjoying the crisp bite of the early morning air. This was her favorite place in the village; she would miss it the most. As untethered as she was from earthly attachments, as much as she’d longed all her life to voyage and experience the world, Tsering couldn’t suppress the intense nostalgia that threatened to anchor her right here forever. She knew she had to leave; her growth, and likely that of the world, depended on it. She picked up an overripe fruit that had fallen to the ground, holding it to her nose to breathe in its saccharine scent.

“Come to have a snack before you leave?” asked a voice from above her. Tsering jumped; it wasn’t often anyone could sneak up on her anymore. She looked up to see Gyari sprawled comfortably across a thick branch, one leg crossed over the other as she read what appeared to be Lobsang’s diary.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d suggest you have feelings for Lobsang,” she snickered up at the girl above her. At this, Gyari only shrugged.

“Maybe so, Avatar,” she said without looking away from the journal, intentionally lowering her voice in a mocking tone.

Tsering couldn’t tell whether Gyari was continuing the lighthearted joke that she had started or if the young Airbender was genuinely making fun of her. After all, the two girls hadn’t spoken a word to each other in roughly two years. Gyari was a teenager now, too.

“Nothing will come of that, though. Lobsang likes boys,” she said with another shrug, so nonchalantly that Tsering almost believed Gyari wasn’t sad about it.

“Anyway, he’s a huge dork when it comes to the light spirit, so if you really are the, uh, the new Avatar, well… don’t let us down,” Gyari said.

Tsering could have interpreted this in about a million different ways. She chose the one in which Gyari was finally speaking to her familiarly.

“I won’t, Gyari,” Tsering said, smiling up at her. With that, she turned and continued down the path through the grove.

Miksha and a few other monks and nuns helped Tsering load supplies onto the new saddle that Pingdeng had allowed them to fasten to his back. She was appreciative of her new companion’s laid-back attitude; she really needed that kind of lax energy amidst the confusion and tumult of her life.

“Are you sure you want to go alone?” Miksha asked her. “This is not exactly your average nomadic pilgrimage.”

Tsering nodded, securing her persimmon-gathering bag to the saddle next to a few other cloth bags of supplies. Inside it were, of course, as many persimmons as she could fit, alongside the toys her and Miksha had made all those years ago. She wasn’t sure exactly why she’d grabbed them from beside her bedroll, but it was better to trust her Avatar instincts than ignore them, right? Tsering strapped her glider-stick, her very last bit of cargo, to the front of the saddle and hopped down to face Miksha. Introducing the invention to the village would have to wait – she secretly hoped Miksha would take initiative and build an air glider of her own to show to the others in her absence.

“Avatar Wan started his spiritual journey alone, so I will, too,” she replied. “Of course, I won’t really be on my own,” she laughed as Pingdeng lowed at her.

Miksha’s eyes glittered. She opened her arms and pulled Tsering into a strong embrace. Tsering noticed that her tattoos were no longer sensitive to the touch; they were simply part of her now. She hugged Miksha tightly, her heart lurching. It felt like saying goodbye to a parent all over again, only this time, she was the one who was leaving.

“May the path of life you flow through be elevated; may your spirit always be uplifted,” Miksha whispered, quoting the same words that she’d spoken at Tsering’s ceremony, a sentiment passed down through generations of Airbenders to commemorate new masters.

“Thank you for everything you’ve done for me,” she murmured to her guardian. She didn’t know how else to put into words how she felt for the abbot, the woman with so much already on her plate who had stepped up and done everything she could to nurture Tsering after her parents left. Miksha pulled away and looked in Tsering’s eyes.

“You don’t need to thank me for anything, Tsering,” she said. “Listen to me, alright? Please be careful. The world is not the peaceful haven that this place is. You are going to experience things that are going to change your life, and you are going to change lives in turn. But you can’t do any of that if you aren’t alive. I need you to stay alive.”

Her voice had changed. Tsering met the piercing intensity of her gaze, two pairs of hazel eyes locked into one another, and nodded her head.

“I promise, Sister Miksha.”

Norbu and Aarav joined the two beside Pingdeng.

“Avatar Tsering,” Aarav murmured, them and Norbu bowing deeply in unison, their fists pressed formally together. Tsering didn’t think she would ever get used to being greeted like an authority figure by her elders.

“We want to wish you luck on your journey. May it enrich and enlighten you, so that you may bring balance to the world,” Norbu said solemnly.

“Thank you, Siblings,” she replied. “When I return, it will be with Sister Chomdem,” she whispered, so to only be audible to the abbots. A small crowd of villagers had formed around them, and she assumed not many of them knew about the fourth head abbot’s conundrum. Tsering noticed Lobsang was nowhere to be seen in the spectators; in fact, there wasn’t anyone her age there to send her off. She willfully remained unbothered. With a whirl of Airbending, she lifted herself onto Pingdeng’s neck.

“I will see you all again,” she called awkwardly from above.

There had been no village-wide address of what had happened at her ceremony. She did not know what any of these people thought of her, if they knew she was the Avatar, whether they believed it or not. It was time to put all that behind her, though, because for the first time, her and Pingdeng were taking off, just the two of them.

“Ready, buddy?” she asked the bison, affectionately stroking his neck fur. He grunted in response.

“Yip yip,” she said grandly, puffing out her chest as she flicked the reins.

She was an Airbending master, and, now that she thought about it, the first-ever Air Avatar, embarking on her first nomadic journey on the back of her very own air bison. The sight of everyone’s eyes on her, waving at her, made her swell with pride. As the two lifted into the air, Tsering leaned over and waved back at the crowd, a massive grin filling her face, and noticed something she’d never seen before: Miksha openly crying. It’s going to be alright, she silently called to Miksha. It has to.

“Before we head out, I’d like to say goodbye to Yu, okay, Pingdeng?” Tsering said to her bison.

Pingdeng grunted, angling towards Lion Turtle’s Cliff without her steering him. She wondered how much of her language her companion could understand; after all, even though he didn’t speak, she felt she could understand him fairly well. They landed near the edge of the cliff. The last time they were here, it had been to depart with the abbots for Saang Island so she could prove to them that she was the Avatar, but now, it was to depart this region altogether. Tsering dismounted with her bag of persimmons and stood at the cliff’s edge, peering down at the village. She called out, and Yu slowly raised his massive head. She watched patiently as he turned and floated toward where she waited, gusts of wind flowing over her in his wake like waves over a shoreline.

“Tsering.” The lion turtle’s voice echoed across the valley. “You have made a new friend.” Tsering gestured behind her to where her bison waited.

“Yes, I have. This is Pingdeng,” she replied with a smile. Pingdeng made a small rumble, his furry head bobbing up and down as if he were bowing. Yu’s head, probably twenty times the size of Pingdeng’s, nodded leisurely in response. Tsering suddenly became aware of how small she was, standing between two of the largest living beings in the known world.

“You have received your Airbending master tattoos. Congratulations,” Yu said, turning his attention back to her. She grinned.

“I have,” she replied. “Thank you. It is an honor.”

“You have the energy of a journey about you,” he mused after a long pause. “Are the two of you going somewhere?”

“As a matter of fact, we are,” Tsering answered. “I’m going to seek out Sister Chomdem near the Si Wong Desert. And,” she paused, her heart pumping, “I’m going to begin my Waterbending training.”

“Hmm,” the lion turtle hummed, his eyes fixed on her as he considered this for several minutes while she chewed her lower lip in anticipation. Out of everyone in her life, she had been looking forward to his reaction the most.

“Ah, yes. It all makes sense now. You are the Avatar.”

Tsering gaped at him. It was the first time someone had acknowledged who she was without her having to tell them first.

“I could sense that you had been touched by the light spirit, but I was unsure of what it meant for you,” Yu continued. “Avatar Wan was the first Avatar, and you are the second. From fire to air. Mmm… I now understand what Wan meant when he spoke to me of the Avatar Cycle, many, many years ago.”

Tsering was astounded. Even Yu, a lion turtle that had been alive longer than any other living creature by far, still had things to learn about the world. She wondered whether the Avatar Cycle, which Wan had only explained in terms of bending, also applied to the element each Avatar would be born into; after all, fire was Wan’s native element, and air was hers. It would certainly be nice to ask Raava about it; after all, they would be bonded together for her entire life, and all her lives after.

“I wanted to see you one more time before I left. To say goodbye, and tell you… how much I’ll miss you,” she said.

An unbelievable sadness washed over her, and tears began to flow uncontrollably from her eyes, but she wasn’t quite sure why. After all, she would miss Yu deeply, but she was going to come back here sooner or later.

“In your absence, I will reflect on the many cherished memories of our friendship,” Yu said.

Tsering dumped a half-dozen of the persimmons in her bag onto the ground, and Yu instinctively opened his mouth. She gathered the orange fruits up in a whirl of air and tossed them at him before taking one for herself, sitting down for one final shared snack. For several minutes, the two looked at each other quietly, the wind whispering all around them. Through her tears, Tsering swore she saw Yu’s massive lips curl up into a smile.

“Thank you for always being my friend,” she said, choking on her words. “For being there for me and supporting me when it felt like no one else did.”

“There is no need for thanks,” the lion turtle insisted. “It is an honor to have you as a friend. I will be here for you for all your days, and for many of your next lives… Avatar.”

Tsering wiped her wet cheeks as she leaned forward and hugged his huge jaw.

“Goodbye, Yu,” she whispered.

“Goodbye, Tsering.”

Chapter Text

Tsering hadn’t anticipated the feeling of pure liberation that would envelope her the moment her and Pingdeng crossed the Eastern mountain range. For a long time, they hovered between two of the tallest peaks, the Avatar and her air bison, preparing to enter the rest of the world. Tsering looked down to examine the wooden necklace that Miksha had given her, holding the pendant with the Air Nomads’ symbol on it in her hands. She stared at the wooden circle and the tattoos on her hands for a long time; blue on white, blue on brown. Tsering smiled, looking up to assess the immense expanse of earth and sea before her. Swirling wind rushed all around her and her animal companion, the map of the world rustling in the arm pocket of her outer robe. It felt like the air was nudging her onward, away from the familiar and into the glorious unknown.

“Let’s go, Pingdeng; yip yip,” she said, snapping the reins. The bison gave a low roar, as if he was just as excited as her.

She thought she knew their first destination on the indefinite land they flew towards: the village across the sea that she had seen twinkling in the distance many nights. First things first – it was time to relish in the journey. Tsering was sure she’d become accustomed to these feelings, the wind surging over her scalp, the long stretches of time up in the sky, Pingdeng’s fluffy coat cushioning her. Now, though, everything felt new, even the blood flowing through her veins. Tsering grinned and whooped happily, her voice whisked away in an instant.

The hours in the air flew by. Tsering had never been completely and utterly alone with her thoughts like this, isolated high above the rest of humanity down on earth, and she found she loved it. No wonder she’d been born an Air Nomad.

About halfway through the journey, Tsering decided she needed to stretch out, grabbing her glider-stick and diving off the side of Pingdeng’s saddle. The bison grumbled in concern, but relaxed again once the Avatar rose up to fly right next to him. She laughed. The two of them were completely, utterly free. Tsering opened her mouth wide to gulp some of the delicious air, sputtering and coughing, then laughing once more, as she caught a bug in her mouth. Well, that’s a mistake you make only once, she thought as she glided back onto the saddle.

Eventually, it was time to practice landing from a high altitude again; they’d had a bumpy time of it back on Saang Island. This time was a bit better, despite the terrain. The mountains all around weren’t nearly as tall as the Eastern mountains, but Tsering was still intimidated by the countless slopes and ridges of the seemingly boundless landscape. She was not, however, intimidated by the village her and Pingdeng stood before, the very first one she had ever visited besides her own. It was quite small, even smaller than her home, with less than two dozen buildings made of wood and stone dispersed along an empty road wide enough for her bison to follow her along. The air was much, much dryer here than in the Eastern mountains, and the arid wind carried dust that coated wagons and boxes like snow. Tsering coughed. Pingdeng snorted. Although the weather was only getting colder where she was from, the late afternoon sun here was oppressively hot; it was no wonder no one seemed to be outside. She took out her map and traced a line with her finger across the Eastern sea from Yu and the village to where they most likely stood. We must be near the desert.

“Hey!” The sudden announcement of another living being in the village startled her. Tsering whipped around to look at an elderly man in sun-bleached clothes hauling a big rug over the railing of the wooden porch he stood on. His sand-colored pants were held up by two straps pulled over the shoulders of his olive-green shirt. He had to be around the same age as Chomdem.

“Hello,” she replied as cheerily as she could despite the sun and dust in her eyes.

“Who’re you?” the man asked casually, coughing from the dust that floated up from his rug. “Not too many travelers comin’ this way lately.” His skin was as weathered as his clothes, wrinkled and tanned like leather from many years in the open sun. Tsering had never heard anyone speak with such a heavy drawling accent before and was fascinated by the man’s voice.

“I’m… an Air Nomad,” she said carefully, remembering Miksha’s warning about the world before she trusted this stranger with her name.

The man glanced from her to the snuffling air bison behind her and gave a gravelly laugh.

“Well, I can see that. Welcome to Tu Zin, air girl, although there’s not much to welcome you to,” he said, throwing both arms out at the road as if to indicate that was it. “I’m Yao. This here’s my inn. You’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“Wow, really? Thank you so much, Yao,” Tsering said, bowing deeply in the Air Nomad way. Yao guffawed loudly at the formal motion. She couldn’t totally tell if the old man was coughing or laughing.

“Well, you can stay here for a small fee, of course,” he rasped. As if on cue, a wooden pillar supporting the porch’s railing snapped under the rug’s weight. “I’ve, eh, got to keep this place lookin’ spiffy somehow.”

“Oh, um, I don’t exactly have any money,” she replied, blushing. “…on account of Air Nomads not having any earthly attachments.”

“Hmmm,” Yao hummed, stroking a short, wiry gray beard. “Well, tell you what. You help me get some work done around here, and you can stay free o’ charge. How’s that sound?” Tsering smiled. The old man seemed kind enough. Besides, if anything were to go wrong, she could fly away with Pingdeng.

“That sounds wonderful,” she replied, stepping up the stairs onto the porch. “I’m Tsering, by the way, and this is Pingdeng, my bison.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet’cha both,” he said with a genuine smile that brought out deep laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. “Say, you’re a bit young to have your tattoos already, aren’t’cha?” he asked.

Tsering didn’t answer – she was too surprised that the man knew something so specific about her culture. Perhaps he had met other traveling Airbenders. Her heart lifted. Still in the road, Pingdeng sneezed loudly, sending up a cloud of dust higher than the buildings around them.

“Sorry, but is there anywhere for my bison to stay? I’m sure that all this dust isn’t good for him,” she said.

“Sure, I’ve got a big ol’ storage shed in the back he could prob’ly fit into, spirits be good,” Yao said. “Come on in, air girl.” He gestured for her to follow him inside through the thin green curtain that hung in the doorway.

“Pingdeng, meet us behind the inn, alright?” Tsering called to him, gliding one flat hand over a closed fist to ensure he understood. The bison huffed, lifting into the air and floating over the building.

Inside was a rather bland space for eating and drinking. In front of the wall facing the door was a long wooden counter at which a lone, hooded figure sat, drinking from a nondescript bottle. Several empty wooden tables were scattered around the room. It seemed like the old man had run out of funds before he could finish furnishing the place; instead of chairs, the tables were surrounded by small barrels, wooden crates, and even a few hunks of stone vaguely resembling the stools in front of the girls’ sleeping hut back home. Various jars, cans, and sacks of preserved food sat on floor-to-ceiling shelves behind the counter. All the way to the right of the space, a wooden staircase disappeared upward; Tsering guessed the inn was above this establishment. The room had a strong, earthy scent to it that Tsering couldn’t place; the dense aroma was similar to that of incense, but not quite the same.

“I also run the village tavern,” Yao chuckled.

The hooded figure silently raised their empty bottle, and Yao quickly scrambled behind the counter, reaching underneath for a replacement of his shady customer’s refreshment. He then gestured all the way to the left of the space for Tsering to follow him towards another curtain that led back outside.

While Tsering struggled to adjust back to the light after being in such a dim room, Yao burst out laughing once more. Pingdeng had trampled across a field of crops, ripped the set of double doors clean off the old man’s storage shed, and forced his large head inside, where the sounds of his chewing could be heard.

“That ol’ beast is goin’ to eat up all my extra rice!” Yao’s words were choked by his laughter.

“Pingdeng!” Tsering yelled, running over to her companion and tugging on the fur of his tail. The beast’s head poked out of the shed. Grain stuck to the fur surrounding his mouth.

“You can’t just eat other people’s food! You’re not a wild bison anymore. We have to ask first, okay?” she scolded him, although the sight of him with rice on his face almost made her start laughing, too. “I’m so very sorry, Yao,” she said, turning to the innkeeper and lowering herself to her knees in an Air Nomad bow of remorse. Her apologetic pose only made him cackle more.

“S’all right. Your first project can be to fix up the shed,” he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye.

“You’re not angry?” she asked, dusting her robes off as she rose to her feet. Pingdeng could have easily eaten Yao’s entire supply of rice – she was sure it was as important here as it was back home.

“There’s always next year’s harvest,” he shrugged, motioning for them to go back inside, out of the blaze of the setting sun.

“Pingdeng, you’ve had enough rice, okay? No more,” Tsering said sternly as she trailed the old man. Her fluffy companion grumbled in protest.

“Feel free to have at any hay I’ve got back there, big fella!” Yao called over his shoulder. Pingdeng grunted happily, ducking inside the shed. Tsering was relieved that he fit inside with room to spare.

Inside the tavern, she found Yao sitting at one of his tables in one of his only chairs, his feet propped up on a barrel with one of the same bottles that his customer had.

“Eats like an ostrich-horse,” he was mumbling to himself, still snickering. She sat at the only other free seat at the table, a wooden crate that had been sloppily labeled “booze.” Tsering was unfamiliar with the word, opting not to ask.

“Are you hungry? I can fix you up some dumplings or jook, if you’d like,” he suggested, taking a swig from the strong-smelling bottle.

“As long as there isn’t meat in it, I’d be happy to eat anything you want to make,” Tsering answered politely, unsure of what jook was. Aside from slain animals, she wasn’t a very picky eater.

“A vegetarian, are you? Sure,” Yao said, rising and lighting a few oil lamps to contrast the darkening sky before making his way behind the counter. Tsering noticed the hooded customer had left without a word, leaving no indication they’d been there but a few metal coins on the counter. Wow, people sure come and go quickly around here, she thought.

“So, what can you tell me about Tu Zin?” she asked as the old man threw an old apron on that had several multicolored patches sewn into it.

“Well, for starters, most folks who live here got stuck tryin’ to get somewhere else, including me,” he sighed as he chopped cucumbers and cabbage to wrap in a stretchy dough. “I’m from north of Si Wong, same as some of my neighbors, and we came here on our way to the big city ‘cause there was talk of startin’ up a mountain exploration project. Was s’pposed to be decent money if we found somethin’ good, but it never happened. I set up shop here in town while I was waitin’, and now, I’m too old to move on.

“Don’t you go worryin’ about me,” he insisted when he saw Tsering’s reaction. “I’m content. I was hopin’ to start up an inn out west, but this is good enough. I prob’ly meet more o’ the folks travelin’ through these parts than any of my neighbors, and the world is full of interestin’ travelers like yourself. After all, everybody needs a place to stay when the night comes,” he said, winking as he set a plate of steaming vegetable dumplings in front of her.

Tsering bowed her head to show her gratitude before she began to eat. She would have to give Yao one of the bags of grain she had brought with her as a thanks for his hospitality – and, apparently, a replacement for Pingdeng’s indulgence. She was just happy to have someone to chat with, let alone somewhere to stay on her first night away from home. The old man sat back down across from her and pulled a wooden pipe out of the pocket of his apron.

“Here this darned thing is… Do Air Nomads smoke? D’you mind?”

He didn’t wait for her response before lighting the fragrant piece and putting it to his lips. Tsering wasn’t totally sure if her people ever used herbs in this way, but she had smelled something similar around the village before – whatever it was, the strong, earthy smell was rather pleasant to her. She shook her head; she didn’t mind.

“We’re really close to the Si Wong Desert. You’ve heard of it, yeah?” Yao asked her, blowing out smoke in the shape of a ring. She nodded, her mouth too full of the tasty dumplings to speak. “The climate here is dry as bones, and extreme, too. Daytime is boilin’ hot, but nighttime is cold. In the desert, it’s much worse. You could freeze if you didn’t have a nice thick coat of fur on you like your friend out there,” he said, pointing with his thumb towards the back curtain of the inn. Tsering pulled the map out of her robes as she swallowed, pointing to the indication Miksha had made.

“Actually, I’m heading for a city to the west of the desert. I’m not sure what it’s called, but–”

“Flyin’ jackalopes, it looks like you’re headin’ to Omashu,” Yao shouted, enthusiastically interrupting her. He coughed, a cloud of pungent smoke billowing out of his mouth and nostrils, his eyes red and lidded but shining with excitement. “It’s the most important city on this side of Si Wong!”

Tsering paused. The most important city on this side? There are other important cities? How long had her people been secluded while the rest of the world developed and changed? How many beautiful parts of the world had they missed, sheltering away from presumed danger?

The feeling of being isolated from the wonders of the world invaded her dreams that night: she was locked in a cage in the Spirit World, forced to watch breathtaking mirages and plants and spirits float by in the distance, a voice in her ear, whispering over and over: You can’t go; it’s too dangerous. The world is not the peaceful haven that this place is.

In the morning, Tsering fixed the doors of Yao’s shed while Pingdeng lounged inside. The old man watched over her as he smoked to make sure she didn’t accidentally smash her thumb, as he had done many times, he said. Next, she swept the floor of the tavern downstairs and the inn upstairs, which was essentially just a room with a handful of creaky stacked beds – Yao had called them “bunkbeds” – directly connected to the old man’s bedroom. Tsering was woken several times during the night due to Yao’s loud snoring, but she couldn’t complain. After all, she had never slept in a real bed before, and found it quite comfortable.

She unpacked a few crates of bottles underneath the counter, wiped down the wooden tables, and finished beating the dust out of the rug outside. Simple, hard work. Tsering wiped the sweat off her brow. As Lobsang had criticized, it had been a while since she had participated in tasks like this around the village. Many of the air children found their responsibilities mundane, but she’d always felt good about working with her hands, making things clean and peaceful. To conclude her chores, Tsering bent a swirl of air around the building, carrying any remaining dust outside. Yao applauded.

“You Airbenders are somethin’ else, I tell you,” he chortled, his pipe hanging from his mouth, a thin trail of dank smoke rising from it.

“So, you’ve met other Airbenders passing through Tu Zin?” Tsering asked as they roused Pingdeng, laughing together at the sight of his fur sticking up every which way.

“Oh sure, I’ve met plenty o’ the air folk over the years. Not so many these days, though. I reckon you’re the first in somethin’ like five years.”

Tsering perked up. “Do you remember ever meeting a young couple about nine or ten years ago? The woman with dark skin like mine, the man with a birth mark in the shape of a potato under his left eye?”

Yao thought for a long while, narrowing his bloodshot eyes and stroking his beard. He inhaled deeply, exhaling more smoke through his nose. It seemed that whatever he was breathing in made him think a bit slower, but she didn’t mind waiting patiently for an answer. After all, her conversations with Yu often had much lengthier pauses throughout them. Tsering pulled a large brush from her bison’s saddle bag and began to groom Pingdeng as Yao contemplated his last decade’s worth of Airbending patrons.

“As a matter o’ fact, I do remember those two! They stayed at my inn and helped me with some chores just like you, real nice folk.”

Tsering just about screamed in excitement.

“Those are my parents! You met my parents!” she yelled. Pingdeng’s ears flicked up at her sudden shout.

“Huh. Well, I’ll be a hog-monkey’s uncle,” Yao mused with a sleepy smile, one hand on his hips. The old man’s toothy grin made her smile, too.

“Did they tell you where they were heading next?”

“’Fraid not,” Yao answered, shaking his head. “At least, I can’t recall. It’s been so long, and this ol’ noggin’ o’ mine can’t remember things like it used to. Sorry, kid.”

Tsering smiled and shook her head. What he’d told her was more than enough. If her parents had stayed here at the start of their journey, then they’d been in good hands.

“It’s alright, Yao. Thank you so much for everything. I–”

“Wait, before you leave, you should eat somethin’,” the old man interrupted her, sensing she was preparing to say goodbye. “You Airbenders like fruit and natural foods, right? There’s a nice fella in town who makes some tasty juices and fruit pies and stuff, all by hand. He was actually in the tavern yesterday askin’ me to tell folks to stop by his shop; you might’ve seen him. I’ve got no idea how he gets such fresh fruit so close to Si Wong, but you ought’a hop on over before you hit the skies.”

“That person in the hood who didn’t talk very much?” Tsering asked, bewildered. Yao nodded. Huh. I guess I’ll be a hog-monkey’s uncle.

She had misinterpreted the cloaked figure from the previous evening who had said nothing and left without a word, assuming he might be a loner who could easily turn dangerous if provoked. Maybe the latter was still true, but she definitely hadn’t expected to hear that the man’s craft was fruit juice and pastries. Right then and there, Tsering made a silent vow to release any assumptions and expectations that might cloud her vision on this journey. She would make a conscious effort to enter each new day, each new experience, with an open heart and mind, freeing herself from any judgements that might hold her back.

“Thank you for the recommendation. I love fruit! Before I leave, though, I’d like to give you some of the rice I brought with me, as an apology for Pingdeng’s, uh, appetite,” she said with a laugh. Yao immediately held his hands out in front of himself.

“Oh no, no, no, you keep what you’ve got. Most o’ what’s in that there shed is gifts and payments from other wanderers. It’s no wonder the place is lookin’ so ragged; I’ve got’ta start takin’ money from you people!” he said with a raspy laugh.

Tsering decided she quite liked the old man and his tavern-inn and his pipe and his friendly disposition. She would miss him.

“I hope that we meet again someday,” she said, bowing. Yao smiled gently and nodded his head deeply in response, the most formal gesture she had seen him make.

“Me too, air girl. Me too.”

Chapter Text

Yao had told Tsering that the quiet man’s fruit shop was at the opposite end of the village, so her and Pingdeng headed that way before they left Tu Zin. Fresh silt had already blown over the road and the various items along the sides of it; everything looked just a bit different than it had yesterday. She tied a pale orange cloth Yao had given her “for those darned sandstorms” around her neck and pulled it over her mouth and nose, wondering how far the winds carried the dust across this ever-changing landscape. Tsering was glad the cloth matched her gold, orange, and russet robes, and even more grateful at how effective it was in keeping the sand out of her airways.

Farther down the road, with the man’s shockingly cute shop sign in sight, various images of apples and berries painted around characters spelling out “fresh fruit,” Tsering tripped over something concealed in the sand. She was glad she’d put on shoes for this excursion as she turned back and lifted a sheathed dagger out of the dust by the leather strap of its scabbard. Whoa. Someone was surely missing their… means to cause harm. Tsering, still on her knees in the road, stared at the knife in curiosity.

Suddenly, the air in the direction of the shop changed. A heated air current sent ripples of awareness over the back of Tsering’s tattooed skull, and she leapt up with all her might, jumping several feet into the air over a blast of fire aimed directly at her. Pingdeng gave a frightened bellow, frantically launching himself into the air alongside her and narrowly missing the flame. Brother Norbu’s voice echoed in Tsering’s ears, a fragment of a lesson from several years ago: Many air bison are afraid of fire.

Time seemed to slow as she looked down at the blaze. An image sprung forward without warning from the back of her mind: a dusty path through a barren expanse of land resembling Tu Zin’s surroundings, scattered with giant, coin-shaped earthen rings. For a split second, the image distorted, and everything in sight was covered in blood, fires burning all around. Tsering gasped in mid-air, wondering why and how her mind had suddenly conjured such a terrifying image.

“Pingdeng, stay in the air,” Tsering called to her bison. She landed back on the ground into the Forceful Gale stance, both arms stretched wide on either side of her in preparation to send any amount of air blasts at her attacker. In one hand, she still held the dagger by the strap of its holster. She had no idea what that vision in the air had been about, but there was no time to process that now.

The Avatar and her bison had generated a cloud of dust where they’d jumped up, and when it cleared, a girl dressed in red in a bending stance that Tsering had never seen before stood assertively, one smoking fist aimed directly at her.

“That’s mine,” the girl growled, advancing with her fist still held out.

Tsering locked eyes with her assailant. A sea of furious passion swirled in her golden irises, and within it glittered an undercurrent of desperation. Tsering held the dagger out to her, and the girl quickly swiped it away, reaching to latch it around her waist before realizing the strap has broken. She groaned, angrily shoving the weapon into the black cloth bag slung over her shoulder. Tsering blinked as she took the girl in and noticed with a pang of horror that she was covered in scars.

The scarlet cloth adorning her skin only made her appearance stand out more. The former injuries were assuredly burn scars; the largest one on her head covered the left half of her forehead and stretched over her scalp, the fine black hair that had once grown there never to return. Another big welt was spattered under her right eye, and a constellation of smaller ones dotted the skin of her cheek, lips, and chin, as if from sparks raining down on her. Not to mention the more encompassing scars on her hands, the delicate skin on them much more scarred than unmarred. Tsering couldn’t help but stare; she had never seen so many healed wounds on one person before.

“Do you like my scars?” the girl asked with a smirk, dropping her battle stance and shaking out her smoldering hand.

Tsering’s face and ears grew hot, and she dropped down on one knee in shame as embarrassment boiled up inside her.

“I’m s-so sorry,” she stuttered.

Tsering knew firsthand how aggravating it was to constantly witness people ogling at her own flaws; now, she had been caught perceiving someone else’s. She glanced up at the Firebender once more, awaiting her reaction. But the girl only studied her for a long moment before raising a reddened hand. A gentle smile filled her face, the large rosy marks that had surely once seethed, bled, and healed parting to reveal glowing rows of teeth.

“No need to apologize.” The girl’s voice was as rough and jagged as mountain ridges. “You and me, we’re different. People are going to notice, and be curious, and that’s fine by me. It’s better than people constantly shielding their eyes from us, looking away as soon as we look at them, pretending we’re invisible.

It’s better that people see us for who we really are, imperfect and beautiful.”

Tsering was struck. In all her time with spiritual masters, she wasn’t sure if she had ever heard something so profound. Everyone guiding her throughout her life had simply acted to the best of their ability as if the irregular blotches on her skin weren’t there. Even Yu, her dearest friend in the world, had never mentioned her differences before. No one had ever referred to her looks so blatantly, so serenely. For the first time, Tsering had been seen, in all that she was, and accepted – celebrated, even. She’d never once been called beautiful before. Still on one knee, her eyes brimmed with tears.

“You’re right,” she murmured, chuckling at herself as she wiped her eyes.

In truth, she was astounded by the wisdom coming from the stranger who had only moments ago attacked her. Tsering may have been hurt emotionally in the past, but the marks on her skin had never caused her physical pain.

“It must have hurt. I… I hope that it doesn’t anymore.”

“No, it doesn’t anymore,” the girl sighed, kneeling across from her. She paused, looking calmly at the horizon behind Tsering. “My father wasn’t always a bad man… at least, not when I was little. But after the spirits were sent away and people only had themselves to compete with for resources, he joined in the fighting. And once I was old enough by his standards to fight too, he took me with him into battle. I was only ten.”

Tsering gasped. The girl nodded solemnly, touching the large cherry-colored mark under her eye.

“I definitely was not old enough to be on the battlefield. I could Firebend, but not well enough to actually put up a fight… not even well enough to defend myself.”

She trailed off, leaving a weighty silence between them. Pingdeng, deciding there was no more danger, landed tentatively behind Tsering, pushing his nose into her back.

“Your father… What happened to him?” Tsering asked after some time, reaching behind her to scratch the bison’s furry chin reassuringly. The young Firebender shrugged.

“I’m not sure. I never saw him again after that day. My mother went missing before that, so I had nothing really attaching me to my crummy little village. I fled the battle and never looked back. I’ve been on my own since that day.”

Tsering was moved by the girl’s testimony. She was probably only two years older than Tsering, but she had already had to be unimaginably brave, heartachingly strong. She imagined the Firebender as a young child covered in ghastly burns, marching across the rugged land with her chin held high, navigating the rest of her days perfectly at ease with people’s gawking. Tsering decided then and there: she wanted the companionship of someone as courageous and steadfast as this person. She rose to her feet and reached her hand out to her, hoping she would take it in an embrace of acquaintance.

“I’m Tsering,” she said, looking the girl in her glittering eyes. The Firebender grinned.

“I’m Xiuying,” she replied, leaning forward and gripping Tsering’s tattooed arm to solidify the alliance as Tsering pulled her up to her feet. The two girls grinned at each other for a long moment.

“This is Pingdeng,” Tsering said, turning to face the bison. He mumbled contentedly as she stroked his massive forehead.

“Hi, Pingdeng… sorry for almost lighting you on fire,” Xiuying said, an awkward chuckle in her throat as she stepped forward. The bison moved backward, grunting nervously.

“Aw, it’s alright, buddy,” Tsering cooed, rubbing the beast’s nose. She paused, taking a long moment to thoroughly consider what she was about to say.

 “Listen, Xiuying… would you like to come with me? I’m headed towards a city to the northwest of here – but first, I’m heading into that shop over there to grab some breakfast.”

The Firebender laughed, a hearty, hoarse rasp that sawed through the quiet morning air.

“I’m in for both places. Let’s go.”

“Now this is the way to travel!” Xiuying shouted into the wind as the three companions took off, leaving Tu Zin in the dust below. Tsering swallowed the last bit of the peach tart that Xiuying had generously bought for her – with no intention of asking where the girl had acquired the money – and laughed at her new friend’s excitement.

“You’ll get used to it,” she replied.

She found she was telling both Xiuying and herself that; after all, her and Pingdeng hadn’t been traveling together for very long yet.

“The people of my village have been taming air bison companions for generations. But you should see how I like to fly,” she said, making sure the Firebender was looking at her as she stood up, grabbed her glider-stick from its place at the front of the saddle, and fell backwards off Pingdeng’s neck. An uncontrollable bout of laughter overtook her as she heard Xiuying’s mortified shriek from above. Tsering opened her glider and propelled herself upward in a wide arc until she was flying directly over Pingdeng, right above where Xiuying sat up on her knees in the saddle.

“Spirits, Tsering, don’t scare me like that! I almost jumped off after you!” the girl shouted. Tsering hooted, landing on the saddle beside her friend.

“Now we’re even,” she said teasingly, pointing a pale finger at Xiuying’s chest. “You almost cooked Pingdeng and I, remember?”

The Firebender slapped her arm lightly. Tsering chuckled as she climbed over the saddle to sit back on Pingdeng’s furry neck. The bison snorted, as if to say, Good one, Tsering.

“You invented that yourself, though? Very impressive,” Xiuying said, leaning on her elbows over the edge of the saddle to admire her friend.

Tsering smiled as she flicked Pingdeng’s reins to adjust their course, enjoying the feeling of Xiuying’s flaring eyes on her back.

After some time, Tsering noticed that Xiuying had retrieved her dagger from her bag. The Firebender was fiddling with the scabbard’s broken leather strap, trying to tie the two severed ends together in a clumpy knot and looking increasingly frustrated.

“I think I have a needle and thread tucked away in one of those bags if you wanted to give it a try. I’ve never been too good at mending clothes, but my mentor said that it might be useful to have, since I didn’t bring many extra robes with me,” Tsering suggested, pointing to the cloth bags tied to the other end of Pingdeng’s saddle. Xiuying nodded, crawling over and fishing around.

“Do you like persimmons or something?” the Firebender said sarcastically as she opened and immediately closed the fruit-filled bag. Tsering chuckled.

Amazingly enough, there was a small needle and some golden thread in another sack. It would stand out against the dark brown leather of the strap, but it would have to do. Xiuying sat with her back against the side of the saddle and set to work, pricking herself several times.

“I’m not too good at mending, either,” she chuckled, sucking on a bloody fingertip. “I had to teach myself a lot of things, and I’m afraid that needle and thread was a pretty low-priority skill for me during my, eh, travels.”

“You’re better than me!” Tsering said with a laugh. Xiuying rolled her eyes at her.

“Anyway, what’s the story behind that dagger, Xiuying?” she asked tentatively. “Did you… find it? Or, uh, make it?” She didn’t want to dig up any unpleasant memories for her friend, but had never met anyone who intentionally carried a weapon around. Plus, Tsering couldn’t help wanting to get to know her more. That’s what friends did, right? Got to know each other?

“Actually, my mother gave it to me shortly before she went missing,” Xiuying replied with a nostalgic smile. “She always told me she wanted me to have something to defend myself with if I was ever in danger, since a lot of Firebenders tend to have trouble with short-distance combat and my village had a bit of a, uh, mugging problem,” she said.

“What’s… mugging?” Tsering asked.

Xiuying stared at her incredulously.

“Hopefully you’ll never have to learn firsthand, but if someone threatens to hurt you if you don’t give them whatever you have that they want, you’ve been mugged,” the Firebender sighed.

Tsering was horrified. She had no idea what to say. She not only felt embarrassingly naïve, but realized, with a wave of dread, that Xiuying was speaking from experience.

“Anyway, it was ironic, because when I showed the dagger to my father the next day, he was thrilled that I would have an extra weapon to use on the battlefield in the future. He wanted me to use something that was supposed to be only for defense, for an emergency, as a weapon of war.” Xiuying shook her head. “He kept saying he wanted to teach me how to make a flaming dagger with Firebending, but never got around to it, so I’ve been trying to teach myself. I’m no soldier, but it sounds kind of cool, don’t you think? A flaming blade,” she murmured, cutting off the extra yellow thread and tugging lightly on the sloppily-mended leather. Tsering turned to look at her new friend. The Firebender’s expression was a shimmering pool of memories.

“Thanks for the thread,” Xiuying said softly. Tsering reached over the saddle and put her hand on Xiuying’s shoulder.

“I’m glad that you got out of that situation, even if it meant more hardships,” she said gently.

“Thanks, Tsering. Me too,” she replied, touching her hand to Tsering’s.

“So, enough about me. Why are you so far from home, Tsering? I mean, who are you?” she asked, her flashy smile returning.

Tsering’s heart skipped a beat. She hadn’t even thought about whether or not to tell her new friend about being the Avatar. She had nearly forgotten all about being the Avatar in Tu Zin, actually – to Yao, Xiuying, and Fong, the hooded man who had delicately crafted their breakfast, she was just a regular person, an average Airbender. She decided to leave that detail out for now.

“I’m from a lion turtle village in the Eastern mountains. I’ve never left home before, but one of the leaders of my village is missing, and since I’m the A– since I’m a new Airbending master, I’ve been tasked with seeking her out,” Tsering explained.

“Wow, a lion turtle village, huh? Cool. It’s not ideal that your leader is missing, but it’s kind of exciting, like you’ve been given your first mission as an air master,” Xiuying replied, fastening the dagger’s sheath around her waist. She raised her arms in exaggeration. “It’s the fated quest of Air Master Tsering and Fire Queen Xiuying!”

Tsering’s laughter burst forth like a belching bison. It felt good to laugh, to be in the moment, to enjoy the company of her new companions and the journey of their “fated quest.”

Chapter Text

Tsering and Xiuying’s first time in the air together passed fleetingly. Conversation with the fiery girl came as easily and naturally as with Yu, despite it being the exact opposite in quality. They traded stories, jokes, and anecdotes from their lives – and Xiuying was full of riveting stories. Tsering felt her own tales from the village mediocre in comparison, but her Firebending friend drank them in like honeyed tea. The two of them, misfit girls with no fear of the unknown, seemed to click together like matching Pai Sho tiles. Tsering felt lucky to have made such a fast friend – clearly, not everyone was repelled by her unique appearance.

The girls and Pingdeng spent the night on a rocky plateau under the stars. With her hands folded under her head, Tsering stared up at the unobstructed night. It was the same sky she had always gazed at from the Eastern mountains, but tonight, the stars seemed to twinkle and twirl in a new dance, like they were celebrating. Everything was changing: the scenery around her, the company she kept, the path she flowed down, the stars in the sky, even – no, especially – her.

In the morning, they resumed their “fated quest,” sharing some sweet bread that Miksha had baked a few days prior. A few more hours spent flying along the mountainous edge of the desert passed before they flew over a forest carpeting an astoundingly massive stretch of the earth. Tsering stared at the enormous blanket of dense trees in amazement. She could hear the forest calling out to her in a hypnotizing undertone, could feel powerful energy pulling her down towards the treetops. Tsering shook her head vigorously, flicking the reins for Pingdeng to carry on. One thing at a time. First, we need to find Sister Chomdem.

Jutting out from a chasm in the rugged earth on the other side of the forest was a very noticeable hut-shaped landmass. Even from high up in the air, the large escarpment did not look like the other natural mountains around it.

“Hey! Do you think badger-moles made that?” Tsering shouted over a strong wind, pointing down at the eerie landform below. She had never encountered the original Earthbenders, but was captivated by Xiuying’s chronicles of the huge, blind creatures that could literally move mountains.

“Something powerful did! Want to check it out?” Xiuying yelled back, her hair whipping and fluttering in the gale as if her scalp was alight in black fire. Tsering nodded.

“Down there, Pingdeng! Let’s go!”

They spiraled downward towards what revealed itself to be a colossal city, growing ever larger and larger in their vision as they descended. Tsering was astounded by the masses of stone buildings nestled securely within the largest wall of earth she had ever seen. The city’s appearance was similar to the description of the lion turtle village which she’d been told Avatar Wan had come from, except the earth-forged metropolis stood all on its own, protecting itself without need of an ancient guardian. Probably better to land outside the wall, she thought. There was clearly a barrier for a reason.

“Flying hog-monkeys,” Xiuying exclaimed after they landed on the far end of an incredibly long zig-zagging bridge that had been diligently carved out of the earth. “I’ve been scraping by in tiny little villages a few days’ journey south of here, when this place has been here the whole time?!”

The mountainous city loomed before them. Tsering was too astounded to speak. The sight of the hundreds, no, thousands of buildings beyond the remarkable bridge and wall stole her words, her breath. Structures piled on top of one another in abundance. Even as far away as they were from the city, she could smell oil and wood, could hear the clamoring sounds of work and play, could feel the expectations as they rose within her. The stunning image rooted her in place.

“I’ve never seen anything like this in my whole life,” Tsering breathed.

“What do you think is behind that wall?” Xiuying asked, stretching from their long journey.

“I have no idea, but I think we need to find out,” Tsering answered, stepping forward at last.

As they crossed the bridge’s halfway point, it began to shake. A low reverberation echoed below their feet, and suddenly, the ground they were about to step on rapidly fell away. Tsering shrieked as her foot hovered over a dramatic drop, remembering the night she was caught in a storm between the Eastern mountains and Lion Turtle’s Cliff. Xiuying grabbed her arm and yanked her back as a portion of the bridge fifty paces long completely collapsed, dust rising between them and the city like steam from a hot spring. The two fell backwards, and the quaking stopped as quickly as it’d started.

“What–”

“Hang on, Tsering,” Xiuying interrupted her panicked shout. “That was no ordinary earthquake. Look at the bridge.”

Breathing hard, Tsering forced herself to look at the place where she and her friend had almost fallen. The earth formed a perfectly straight line on both sides where it had been torn away. She had never seen Earthbending before, but was almost certain that a badger-mole must have destroyed the bridge; there was no way that perfect of a fracture could have happened naturally.

However, as the dust cleared, Tsering saw that her assumption was incorrect. Standing on the other side of the fissure with her feet spaced widely apart and her fingertips facing the sky was a woman with pale skin, crimson lips, and hair as black as midnight. As she straightened up to her full height, Tsering and Xiuying glanced at each other. The woman was incredibly tall.

“State your purpose,” she commanded, her voice carrying easily across the gorge she had created. Tsering’s heart thudded in her chest. She and Xiuying scrambled to their feet.

“We’re looking for an Airbender who may have passed through your walls,” Xiuying shouted in response. She pointed a scarred finger at Tsering. The Airbender noticed her friend’s hand shaking. “An old woman with the same tattoos as her.”

There was a long pause. The woman seemed to be sizing the two of them up from a distance. Then, she nodded to herself before jumping up and dropping back into her Earthbending stance, her feet slamming against the ground as she jutted her fingertips upward. The bridge shook violently again, the sounds of moving earth echoing all around. Tsering, her breath stolen, watched as the woman bent the massive section of the bridge she had demolished back into place without breaking a sweat. She glanced at Xiuying, whose jaw hung open. I’m glad I’m not the only one. The Earthbender rose back up to her full height and stood in place, nodding slightly at them as if to say they were now permitted to approach her. With the woman’s emerald gaze fixed on them, Tsering was all too aware of every step she took, taking extra care not to stumble and look foolish.

 “Sorry for giving you a scare, but I do what I must to protect my city,” the woman said, casually pushing ribbons of long black hair behind her shoulders like she hadn’t just performed the most spectacular feat of Earthbending that Tsering and Xiuying had ever seen.

“I’m Oma. Welcome to Omashu.”

Oma smirked at the awed silence that followed as the two teenagers stared up at her in wonder. Tsering snapped out of her daze, realizing that this was an introduction and not an exhibition. She bowed deeply, her multicolored fists pressed together.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance. We are honored to be welcomed into your magnificent city,” she said formally. “My name is Tsering, and this is Xiuying.” She gestured to the starstruck Firebender at her side. Oma bowed her head to them before turning and gesturing for them to follow her towards the massive stone gate.

Tsering expected to feel a bit claustrophobic inside the walls of the city, but instead, she felt safe, as if the land were a cupped hand holding them securely. The air smelled of clay, roasted vegetables, and smoked meats. She was amazed by the endless buildings with their sloping roofs towering higher and higher all around, the dozens of gorgeous bridges connecting them, and the hundreds of thin, sloping chutes stretching from where they stood all the way to the highest points of the city that were visible. Just about everything in sight had been constructed from some form of earth.

“What are all of those… slides?” Xiuying echoed Tsering’s thoughts, looking around in mystification.

“They are Omashu’s delivery system,” Oma replied, a hint of pride in her voice. “When my people and I built this city, I knew it needed an efficient method of transporting things; otherwise, it would be a long, strenuous journey up and down the mountains just to deliver my people their mail. Earthbenders help the process along, and it works wonderfully.”

“It’s amazing,” Tsering said. Trying to take the entire city in all at once was simply too much splendor for her eyes to handle. “How did you come to build this city? Where do your people come from?” she asked, turning to the Earthbender. Surprisingly, the smile disappeared from Oma’s delicate features.

“Let’s go to my home, and we’ll talk more,” she said.

She escorted them through winding, hilly streets, past teahouses and shops selling grilled rice balls, afternoon shoppers and Earthbending delivery workers sending packages careening across the city. Every path hummed with activity. It was a miracle Oma towered over most everyone, otherwise, the girls would have certainly gotten lost in the crowds of people rushing this way and that.

“Two for the price of one! Two for the price of one!” a man shouted from a crowded threshold, holding up some sort of balled food on a thin, wooden stick.

A group of elderly women swooned over their friend’s new shawl. A teenager unenthusiastically carrying a basket of potatoes sulked past a family entering a teahouse.

“I want green tea cake, Mama!” the child exclaimed excitedly to their mother as they disappeared inside.

“Watch out!” A young girl darted by, almost bowling Xiuying over. She whooped, weaving through countless pairs of legs, and Tsering could just make out that she was carrying something in her tiny arms as she flew by.

“Come back, Li Mei! That’s mine!” came an angry squeal in her wake. A boy flashed past, his tiny fists balled as he ran. From far up ahead, the girl’s giggling laughter faded. Tsering thought of Lobsang and Gyari, always chasing each other, and smiled. From far away, her memories of home seemed ever the more pleasant.

The city was overwhelming and terribly exciting. Tsering was enchanted; she could see why Chomdem would want to come to this magnificent place to resupply on her long journey. Oma led them to a towering staircase. It was so steep, its slope so tall, that Tsering couldn’t see the top.

“With all due respect, I don’t know if I’m in good enough shape to climb all these stairs,” Xiuying said, massaging one of her shoulders nervously.

Oma laughed. “Don’t worry,” she said gently. Tsering was charmed at the way the authoritative woman could go from an intimidating monarch to a nurturing mother figure in the blink of an eye. She watched as Oma balled her hands into tight fists and pulled them closely to her sides, bending her knees and stomping one foot down. A square patch of the ground they stood on as wide as the staircase split from the rest of the earth below them, dust rising from the cracks. Tsering and Xiuying both shouted in surprise as Oma punched her fists into the air, and the square of earth suddenly rocketed upward along the staircase.

“It’s the quickest way to get to the top of the mountain,” the older woman shouted over the loud rumble of her shortcut as she swung her fists gracefully back and forth, a youthful grin springing to her beautiful face. Tsering dared a glance backwards, noting that each section of stairs they rode over flattened out to accommodate them before bending back to its original shape. She was amazed – despite the incredible feats of bending Oma had shown them so far, it seemed like Earthbending took little to no effort at all for her; in fact, she seemed to enjoy it, just like how Tsering enjoyed Airbending. She was inspired. I know who to learn Earthbending from when the time comes.

The three of them arrived at a quaint palace at the top of the mountain. It was the largest and most extravagant building of them all, with glass lanterns and a vibrant, jade-tiled roof that appeared to have been recently refurbished. Still, even it, too, was made of earth, cut from the same custard-colored stone as every other building in the city.

“This is your home?!” Xiuying exclaimed.

Tsering felt a pang of sympathy for the Firebender, who had essentially been living on the streets of various villages for almost half her life, never fully able to connect with a place enough to call it a home. Oma nodded, smiling as she gestured for them to follow her inside. The exterior was already majestic, but the interior was even more so, with glowing green crystals mounted on the walls, fine gold carpets, and silken tapestries adorning stone pillars: a grand entrance for a grand woman. There were no windows in the entrance hall; instead, the room glowed with the crystals’ dazzling emerald light.

“I wanted my daughter and I to have a home that makes us feel safe,” Oma murmured. “Spirits know we need it.”

Tsering and Xiuying glanced at each other in the silence following her remark. Though there was a grand set of doors on the opposite side of the room, Oma instead led them into a smaller and cozier room off to the side. There was a window on the far wall, but the curtains were drawn, so the crystals that also adorned the walls of this room filled the space with the same glassy light as the entrance hall. It smelled of herbs inside; Tsering was reminded of the special oils that had been massaged into her skin on the day of her Airbending master ceremony. Incense smoke wafted from a tiny urn on the windowsill, with bigger urns positioned on shelves under it. Wider clay pots with bushy plants growing out of them lined the floor. There was a circular stone table in the center of the room. A kettle rested over what appeared to be a small coal furnace built into the center of the smooth table.

“If you would, dear,” Oma said to Xiuying, lifting the kettle and gesturing to the iron grate on which it had sat. The Firebender nodded.

With a small, concentrated breath, she pointed two fingers at the table, and out of them spouted a stream of bright orange fire. The flame sent shadows dancing around the walls. Tsering was spellbound. Xiuying may have bent fire at her when they first met, but Tsering hadn’t been facing her; she had never actually seen anyone Firebend before. From the moment she inhaled, Tsering noticed, something about Xiuying’s aura had changed. Never had she looked more authenticly herself than when she was Firebending. Still in awe, Tsering watched the Firebender shake out her hand as she’d done back in Tu Zin, a thin trail of smoke rising from it. The furnace glowed with her friend’s fire. Oma placed the kettle over the stovetop and gestured for them to sit down with her.

“This is my tearoom,” Oma explained. “I figured it was a nice, quiet place where we could share some tea and talk.”

Once steam rose from the kettle’s spout, Xiuying raised one hand, palm face-down, and lowered it until it rested on the table. The fire in the furnace died down at her command. Tsering was amazed at her friend’s control over her element. Oma served their tea in clay teacups with a simple charcoal glaze. When Tsering took a whiff, she smiled contentedly; it was green tea, her favorite.

Upon looking up, her shoulders tensed. A large figure shrouded in shadow had quietly appeared in the entrance, behind where their host sat. Without turning around to look, Oma held an arm out – it was as if she’d been able to sense their approach. Judging by the older woman’s lack of reaction, the person in the doorway was not a threat.

“This is my daughter, Numa,” she said.

The figure stepped into the light. Tsering’s heart fluttered. Oma was already much taller than the average height for a woman, but her daughter was even taller, and much more muscular. Framed by the same fine black hair as her mother was a masculine face and kind, shy eyes. When Tsering made eye contact with her, Numa gave her a lovely, bashful smile. Tsering’s breath caught in her throat. Mother and daughter had very similar facial features, with sleek bone structures and pointed chins, but Oma’s eyes were dark green, while Numa’s were a rich dark brown. Whereas Oma had quite pale skin, her daughter’s chiseled features were softened by a golden complexion, a tan not from a life spent toiling in the sun like Yao, but from time outdoors on her own terms. Tsering’s eyes wandered to the two wooden sticks poking out of the young woman’s waistband that were joined together by a short metal chain.

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Xiuying said, nodding her head politely.

“Yes, it’s a pleasure,” Tsering chimed in hurriedly, hoping no one would notice her staring and blushing. Monkey feathers. She cringed as she saw Oma’s eyebrow raise, looking from Tsering to her daughter, who was also flushed.

“The pleasure is all mine,” Numa murmured. Her voice was deep and lustrous, and the sound of it made Tsering’s heart skip a beat in a way that it never had before.

“Mother, I didn’t know you were having guests; I would have dressed nicer,” the older girl said, turning to Oma.

Tsering took her words as an invitation to look her up and down again. Numa wore an olive green sleeveless tunic with loose-fitting tawny pants that gathered at her ankles, and no shoes: a very casual outfit, as if she had only been stopping here for a cup of tea before heading out for the day. Around her neck hung a glistening blue-green stone in the shape of a crescent moon. Tsering was entranced by the curving muscles in her arms and shoulders; she wasn’t sure whether she’d ever seen such a strapping young woman before.

“D-don’t worry about it,” Tsering quickly reassured Oma’s daughter, stumbling over her words. Xiuying glanced at her and snorted loudly behind her teacup.

“Yes, you’re welcome to join us, Numa,” Oma said nonchalantly, sipping her tea with poise.

“I’d love to,” Numa murmured with a fleeting glance at Tsering as she took a seat across from her, between her mother and Xiuying. Butterfly-chipmunks beat their wings fervently inside Tsering’s stomach. Oma poured her daughter a cup of the fragrant tea and cleared her throat.

“So, you asked about my people and I. We come from two separate tribes that no longer exist, the Hiru and the Yoru. I am from the Hiru tribe, and my husband was from the Yoru tribe,” the older woman began.

“I’ve never heard of the Hiru or the Yoru. Why don’t they exist anymore?” Xiuying asked.

An air of gloom filled the room. The Firebender instantly looked petrified that she had crossed a line without thinking before she spoke, but Oma raised a hand to soothe the girl’s worries.

“Our tribes were at war for a long, long time. It was a meaningless conflict. My husband had a gentle spirit, like Numa. We met on top of a mountain between our tribes, both searching for somewhere, anywhere, to feel at peace, and in each other, we found that peace,” she said, her voice softening. “Love between members of the opposing tribes was forbidden, so we always met in secret, carving our own meeting place into the mountain with the help of the badger-moles. My husband tried to avoid participating in the war for as long as he could, but eventually, I knew he was enlisted to fight when he didn’t come to our mountain. A few days after he stopped coming, I heard that a death notifier went to his family’s home.”

Xiuying’s eyes widened. Numa got up with a sigh to fill the kettle with more water. Tsering said nothing, wanting to leave Oma plenty of space to finish her story.

“Neither of us knew when he left that I was pregnant,” Oma said with a sad laugh, placing a comforting hand on her daughter’s arm as she sat back down. “But that didn’t stop me from putting an end to that spirits-forsaken war, once and for all. It robbed everyone of so much – I couldn’t be with the man I loved in the light of day, and then, after risking our lives to be together anyway, he was killed, along with so many others from both tribes. I loved Shu with every fiber of my being, and after he was taken from me, I was overcome by my grief. I knew I couldn’t let any more innocent lives be lost in the war, so I used my bending to stop it. I founded this city, where members of both tribes live together in harmony.”

There was a long pause.

“You’re an inspiration,” Tsering murmured. “You stopped an entire war by yourself. You brought two tribes in opposition together. You named your city Omashu so that in a way, you and your husband would always be together.”

Oma nodded.

“Shu didn’t deserve that,” Xiuying said, tears in her eyes.

“No, he didn’t. None of them did,” Tsering said softly, putting her arm around her friend. Xiuying, too, had been forced to fight, and had suffered permanent consequences. Everyone in the room except for Tsering had been devastated by war and conflict – Xiuying lost everything, Oma lost her husband, Numa had to grow up without a father. Tsering looked at the young woman across from her, who was staring at the table with her arms crossed. She looked uncomfortable, and understandably so – she had come here for a quiet cup of tea and was instead reliving her family’s trauma.

“How did you manage to stop the fighting all by yourself?” Xiuying asked, sniffling.

“Since I learned all that I know about Earthbending from the badger-moles, and because I was in so much emotional distress, I was able to move immense amounts of earth, like them. No one would have dared to stand against me and keep the fighting going after that.”

“I’ve noticed that my bending is different depending on my emotional state, as well,” Tsering said. She would hold off on prying questions about Earthbending and badger-moles until the time was right.

“Me too,” Xiuying added.

“Me too,” Numa said quietly.

There was another long pause – Tsering had no idea how the mood could be salvaged at this point. Thankfully, Oma rose from her seat and opened the curtains, speaking again as the copper light of the setting sun flooded the room.

“Thank you for listening to my story. I know it’s a difficult one to hear,” she said, her tone sympathetic. “I’d like to know about you two now, and where you come from, if you don’t mind. It’s not every day that we have such unique visitors, and I like to know who’s visiting my city.” She offered a lighthearted smile.

“Of course,” Xiuying said, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “Well, if you couldn’t tell, I’m a Firebender, and I’ve lived south of the Si Wong desert for my entire life. I haven’t had a permanent home in a long time, but I guess my most recent home was Tu Zin. That’s where I met Tsering, who I almost scorched by mistake,” she chuckled.

“So, you’re a wanderer,” Numa mused.

“I guess you could say that,” Xiuying replied.

“Well, we’re very glad you wandered into our city,” Oma said. “And what about you, Tsering?” the older woman asked, turning to her. Tsering’s heart lurched as she felt everyone’s eyes on her.

“Well… I’m from a lion turtle village in the Eastern mountains,” she said nervously, more to Oma’s daughter than anyone else. Numa’s presence was making her feel strangely timid, yet she couldn’t seem to take her eyes off her.

“Wow, there are still lion turtle villages?” the young woman asked, enthralled.

“I believe that must be the last one,” Oma commented thoughtfully.

“Wait, really?” Tsering couldn’t keep the surprise from her voice. The last lion turtle village? The monks and nuns had told her that most humans had left their lion turtle villages behind, but she had no idea that Yu might be the very last one.

“It must be. To tell you the truth, it’s a big surprise to even hear you say you’re from a lion turtle village at all. No one has claimed to be from one in at least thirty years,” Oma said.

Tsering blinked. Thirty years was a long time.

“Wait, you said that no one that you have met has said they’re from a lion turtle village in thirty years?” she asked, suddenly realizing what this meant. When Oma nodded, Tsering turned to Xiuying.

“Sister Chomdem never made it to Omashu then,” she said to her friend. Xiuying’s eyes widened.

“Oh no,” the Firebender breathed.

“Wait, what do you mean? Who’s Sister Chomdem?” Numa asked.

Chapter Text

By the time Tsering finished explaining why her and Xiuying had come to Omashu in the first place, it was dark, and the pair were exhausted from their journey. The four of them retrieved Pingdeng outside the city wall and brought him to the ostrich-horse stables on Oma’s property. It was Numa’s first time seeing an air bison, and she was thrilled – even more proof that Chomdem had never made it to Omashu. Strangely, the young Earthbender and her mother opted to return to their home on foot, instead of on Pingdeng’s back.

Once Tsering managed to calm the ostrich-horses, who were deeply startled by a massive beast entering their space in the middle of the night, Oma was happy to show the young travellers to her guest room. The search would have to continue tomorrow. It had been a long day. Tsering’s mind began to drift toward sleep the moment she fell into the green silken sheets.

Over the next several days, Oma was needed elsewhere – unfortunately, being the leader of one of the largest cities in the known world to date meant she was unable to stay and chat all the time. In fact, they only saw her at the evening meal. Tsering savored each moment that they were in her glittering, commanding presence, and not only because of her private chef’s phenomenal cooking. She cherished Oma’s gripping stories, her gentle, motherly reassurance, the way she listened without judgement or interruption, and most of all, her benevolence. When she first arrived, Tsering thought Numa must have resembled her father a bit more than her mother, but now, she could see a plethora of similarities between the two women, in looks and disposition. In the daylight, Numa showed Tsering and Xiuying the city through her eyes. They indulged in local cuisine, met countless acquaintences, enjoyed music and dancing and scenery, all of which entirely new to the young air master from the lion turtle village. Still, with as many of Omashu’s vivacious layers as they peeled back, she was sure they had hardly scratched the surface of the magnificent earthen metropolis. Tsering was unsure if she was more enthralled by Numa’s home or the young woman herself. The three girls talked until their voices grew hoarse, strolling the city streets together discussing courses of action for finding Chomdem, among other things, of course.

“So, Numa, I know we’re supposed to be looking for a lost Airbender right now, but I have to know… what are those things in your waistband? What’s your story?”

Tsering just about sighed in relief when Xiuying asked the question. She had been trying over and over in her head to figure out how to ask Oma’s daughter to tell them more about herself, unable to settle on the right thing to say.

Numa laughed. “Ah, these are my nunchaku. They’re very important to the cultural heritage of both of my parents’ tribes. No one in Omashu really uses them anymore, especially since the Hiru-Yoru war kind of gave them a bad image… but historically, they were used not just for hurting people, but for special dances, rituals, and even harvesting crops sometimes,” she explained. “When my mother showed me some antique nunchaku from her tribe, I knew I wanted some of my own, so I made some for myself. They make me feel like I’m keeping an old cultural tradition alive,” she added with a shy smile.

“Fascinating,” Tsering replied. “I like to make things, too.”

“Oh, you do?” Numa replied, her dark eyes igniting.

“Can I see the nunchaku, please please please?” Xiuying asked excitedly.

Numa hesitated. “Well… I’d rather not have anyone else hold them, but I can show you a few moves later if you’d like.”

“Yes, please! Thank you!” the Firebender replied, jumping up and down in childish glee. Tsering smiled at her fiery friend before swallowing hard as Numa’s eyes landed on her again. Why was it so hard to feel normal every time those deep, dark pools of honey fixed on her?

“And, I guess my story is… Well, you know this, I’ve lived in Omashu for my entire life,” the older girl said. “I literally grew up alongside this city. Like my parents, I’m an Earthbender. I’ve always had a knack for exploring, and I travel outside the city a lot. I might know more of this city than anyone else, except maybe my mother.” Her voice grew soft and she looked down at the ground timidly, as if she didn’t usually talk about herself so much all at once.

“Spirits, I can’t imagine what it’s been like to have grown up in this big city,” Tsering chuckled. “There are only a few hundred people in my village. This is literally the exact opposite of how I’ve spent my entire life so far.”

“Me too,” Xiuying said, “and I grew up a lot closer to here than you did, Tsering. But still, with all the villages I’ve been to that have called themselves ‘cities,’ this is, by far, the only one that actually counts as a ‘city.’”

The three of them laughed together. Tsering relished in the company of her new friends. It was nice to be around people her age without feeling like the black lemur – it seemed she had found her own group of black lemurs.

“Let’s stop in here,” Numa said as they rounded a corner of lively storefronts and stopped before a small teahouse at the intersection of four different footpaths. A line of people waiting to get inside glanced up at the three girls from where they sat on cushions along the edge of the earthen building’s wooden porch.

“I often go out exploring with the owner of this shop. They’re really well-connected. If they’re here, maybe they’ll know something about your missing abbot.”

Tsering and Xiuying nodded, following the Earthbender through a curtain of wooden beads.

The inside of the shop looked more like a garden than a beverage establishment. Potted plants hung from the ceiling on thick ropes, with so many more scattered across the floor that the multicolored rugs covering it were occupied more by plants than customers. Between thin vines creeping up the walls hung maps, paintings, and sketches of nature-filled scenes. Tsering noticed with excitement that one of the black-and-white sketches appeared to be of a grinning Numa. A few low tables managed to fit inside the space, all occupied by patrons enjoying their afternoon chatter over cups of fragrant tea and plates of pastries. Behind a small wooden counter facing the door sat a person with short, sandy hair and freckled cheeks who appeared to be deeply focused on their latest painting, one brush in their hand and another tucked behind their ear. Their cream-colored tunic was stained with streaks of paint, as were their arms and face. They did not look up when the wooden beads clicked together and the three of them stepped through the threshold.

“Wow, it’s like a forest in here!” Xiuying exclaimed.

Tsering inhaled deeply. “It smells like home,” she sighed.

Xiuying threw her arm around Tsering, and her heart sang. She’d never had a friend like Xiuying before – she’d never even left the Eastern mountains before. Tsering was proud of how well she was handling all the changes coming her way lately.

Numa left them where they stood in the entryway, suddenly looking much less shy than how she had appeared since they’d met.

“Numa!” the painter exclaimed. “Where were you the other day? I thought we were supposed to go to the Foggy Swamp together!”

So, Numa had been intending on going out when she had walked into her mother’s tearoom, and this was the person she had intended on meeting. I can’t believe she abandoned her plans without another thought just to meet Xiuying and I, Tsering thought.

“The Foggy Swamp,” Xiuying mused under her breath. “I think I’ve heard of that before.” Tsering glanced at her friend.

“Sorry, Sun,” Numa said, leaning over the counter casually. “I got a little sidetracked. Let’s go together another time, alright?”

“Sure, whatever you say,” the shopkeeper replied, shrugging. “Excuse me,” they called over Numa’s shoulder at Tsering and Xiuying, who still stood in front of the beaded curtain, taking it all in. “Welcome! Are you here to have tea? There’s a bit of a wait, I’m afraid.”

Numa laughed heartily. “No, they’re with me. Come here, you two,” she said, beckoning them over. “These are my new buddies, Tsering and Xiuying. Buddies, this is Sun. They’re a good friend of mine!”

Xiuying waved. Tsering bowed. With a glance at Sun’s painting, she noticed they were in the middle of creating a gorgeous forest scene, with an animal she had never seen before drinking from a river.

“It’s great to meet you, Tsering and Xiuying. Always nice to have friendly faces in the city. You’re welcome in my shop always,” Sun said. Their voice was dry and warm as the sand outside.

“Thank you so much, Sun,” Tsering said, smiling back at them.

“It’s great to meet you, too,” Xiuying crooned, her cheeks a bit redder than usual. Was she blushing?

“So, these two came to Omashu looking for someone, but we haven’t had any luck finding her so far. Have you heard about an Airbender passing through recently, an old woman with the same tattoos as Tsering?” Numa asked. Tsering gulped. Not only was she riveted by the way Numa said her name, this could be the moment where they finally found some direction in their search.

“Hmmm,” Sun hummed, putting the tip of their paint brush between their lips as they studied Tsering for a long while. “An old woman… an Airbender…” Their pensive gaze rose to one of the potted plants swaying from the ceiling. Please know something, Tsering thought. Please please please.

After several minutes, though, they shook their head.

“I’m sorry. I had to think hard about everywhere I’ve been and everyone I’ve met lately… but I haven’t seen or heard about an old Airbending woman with those same tattoos. I’m sure if she came through the city or anywhere nearby, I’d have heard about it.”

The three of them visibly deflated. Back to square one.

To make up for the disappointment, Sun had let them skip the line for tea. When the trio stepped out of the teahouse, it was dusk. Many shops had lit outdoor lanterns, and the ever-dusty paths glowed amber under the indigo sky. As cheery as the atmosphere was here, Tsering felt rather hopeless about her situation.

“So, uh, what do we do now?” Xiuying asked, equally dismayed.

“I have no idea. Sister Chomdem was supposed to be here. She could be anywhere in the world!” Tsering groaned, throwing her mottled hands into the air in exasperation. Numa stroked her chin, deep in thought, cradling her elbow in her other hand. The search had hit a wall.

“Come closer, children, and I can help you find what you seek,” came a creaky voice from below.

Tsering blinked. Was that voice real, or in my head? She looked down to her right and saw a petite old woman that had not been there when they had entered Sun’s shop. The woman sat with her back against the teahouse’s wall on an orange rug on the ground, several candles burning around it. She wore fine black and scarlet robes tied at the waist with crimson silk, and her long, dark gray hair was pinned up into a tight knot atop her head, a unique hairstyle that Tsering had never seen before. However, what stood out about the old woman the most was below her hair. She wore extremely large earrings and a necklace that were both made of shimmering blue scales. Her face was covered in piercings of the same iridescent material as her accessories: the bridge of her nose and the middle of her lower lip sparkled, and a thick cobalt bar hung between her nostrils. Twin tattoos of a single thick, red line coming to a point on either end ran down both sides of her face, from her cheeks to where her neck met her collarbones. Tsering was so enthralled by the woman’s inimitable appearance that she’d forgotten what she had said.

“I’m deeply sorry, but what did you say?”

The woman with the topknot laughed, a thin cackle that echoed across the buildings, and beckoned for the three of them to come and join her on the rug.

“Come here, and let us talk.”

Tsering, Xiuying, and Numa all looked at each other. Xiuying shrugged, moving towards the rug. Tsering and Numa quickly joined her. Spread across the pale orange fabric between her and them were a variety of gorgeous stones and several thin, white sticks resembling bones. In the center of the rug was an image of a red flame.

“So, what is your name?” Xiuying asked. The old woman did not answer. She only stared hard at Tsering for a moment before closing her eyes and inhaling sharply through her nose as she moved several of the rocks around.

“We are pleased to make your acquaintance. I am Tsering. Where do you come from?” Tsering asked gently, deeply fascinated by the person sitting before them. She could sense the spirituality radiating off the tattooed and pierced woman.

With her eyes still closed, the old woman placed a speckled brown and white stone in the center of the fiery image. Suddenly, with her right hand still on the stone, she held her left palm out, face-up, and a massive burst of golden fire sprung from it. Xiuying and Numa lurched back, shielding their faces, but Tsering did not flinch.

“I am of the Bhanti tribe,” the old woman said, her eyes flying open to gaze with deep intensity into Tsering’s. The Firebender’s irises were nearly the same shining hue as Xiuying’s, only a tinge darker. They flickered wildly, a golden flame of their own.

“And you… you are the Avatar.”

Tsering’s eyes widened. Her breath caught in her lungs, held fast in astonishment. The evening sounds of the city died down in her ears until all she could hear was her own pounding heartbeat, all she could see was the old woman’s face and her roaring flame. Even Xiuying and Numa seemed to disappear from her flank.

“How did you know?” Tsering whispered.

“We Bhanti use our fire to read energy pathways,” she replied. “Your energy is powerful, tangible. It is easy to feel Raava’s spirit inside of you.” A smile crept across her wrinkled face. “It is wonderful to meet you again, Avatar Wan.”

Tsering could feel the energy inside her swirling around. It was the same sensation as the first time Wan had spoken to her.

“It’s nice to meet you again… Hono.” She returned the Bhanti woman’s greeting with a deep bow, not totally sure how she knew her name. Hono chuckled, letting the fire in her palm flicker out.

Tsering was suddenly very aware of Xiuying and Numa staring at her from either side.

“Um… what just happened?” Xiuying’s tone was one of complete bewilderment. “One minute, I think we’re about to fight this old lady, and the next, she’s saying you’re… the Avatar?!”

“Hush, child,” Hono rasped calmly. “I did not know there was a new Avatar until a moment ago, either,” she said with a chuckle.

“Tsering, you’re… This whole time, I’ve been traveling with… I’m sorry, this doesn’t make any sense,” Xiuying said, shaking her head. “I thought there was only one Avatar, and he died already.”

“Wan did die, yes, but the Avatar didn’t,” Tsering sighed, feeling a bit exposed. She hadn’t intended to tell her friends yet, and certainly not in this way. “Raava’s spirit– I’m sorry, but can I explain this later? Hono, you said that you can help us find what we seek. Do you know how I can find Sister Chomdem?” she asked, turning back to the woman with the topknot.

Hono narrowed her eyes, moving more stones around the rug. This time, when fire sprang from her palms, the element had a completely different energy about it. It was silkier, more ethereal, and, strangely, magenta-colored. Tsering hadn’t had much interaction with Firebending, but she was certain that it was a special skill to bend flames of different colors at will. She watched as the old woman leaned forward and moved her hands in calculated patterns in front of her, searching with her wispy flames.

“Sister Chomdem… Ah, yes, an abbot from Yu’s village,” Hono croaked. “She and Wan were connected as well, no?”

“Uh… I’m not sure. Maybe?” Tsering said, swallowing the excitement that bubbled up inside of her when she heard Hono mention Yu.

“Well, look inside yourself, Avatar,” the Bhanti woman snapped, as if impatient that Tsering still had no idea what the Avatar was capable of. “Your connection to Sister Chomdem is one that has transcended your lifetimes. Look deep enough, young one, and you can find any of Wan’s memories inside of yourself.”

Tsering sighed, closing her eyes, and took several deep breaths. It felt strange to try to start meditating so suddenly, but after all, she was a master Airbender; she could do it anywhere, at any time. She turned her attention inward, searching for a glimmer of the abbot’s energy within hers – if it was even there. After several minutes of nothing, Tsering was fighting embarrassment. Sister Chomdem, where are you?

Suddenly, there was a flicker of emotion in her chest that she knew was not her own. A series of visions flashed behind her eyelids – fragmented memories. Back in the village temple, Chomdem, who appeared much younger than Tsering remembered, offered her a platter of egg custard tarts, a blushing smile on her face. Then, she sat beside the abbot on the back of her bison, and they laughed together while gazing out at a vast expanse of mountains. Next came a shocking still image, the same rancid, bloody battlefield scattered with huge earthen rings that she had seen when she first met Xiuying. Tsering felt sick as the stench of blood, death, and pain filled her senses. Reeling from the horror, she was suddenly engulfed in a dense forest – or was it a swamp? – in the dark, hundreds of night creatures screeching into the blackness. The animal sounds faded to silence, and from somewhere behind her came a teeth-clenching scraping sound, accompanied by Chomdem’s quivering voice whispering something that Tsering couldn’t distinguish. The sounds and scents of the scene were even more overpowering than the last. Tsering blinked her eyes open, the night sounds fading away into the back of her mind. None of those memories were her own, and yet they seemed so familiar, especially the last one. The Foggy Swamp.

Tsering turned to Numa. “Sun said that you were supposed to go to the Foggy Swamp together the other day… have you ever been there before?”

Numa looked completely flabbergasted. She hadn’t said anything since they’d been inside the teahouse, and she didn’t appear capable of saying anything now, either. The Earthbender simply shook her head.

“Well… I think that’s where we need to go. I don’t know anything about it, or why Chomdem would go there, but I think… I think I just saw it in Wan’s memories.”

“You saw it in Wan’s memories?!” Xiuying sputtered. Tsering nodded, turning back to the Bhanti woman.

“Thank you so much, Hono,” she breathed. “I had no idea I could seek Wan’s help like that, even outside of speaking with him.” The old woman smiled.

“There is no limit to the things you are capable of, young Avatar. You only need seek them out,” she rasped.

“You… you can speak to Avatar Wan?” Numa asked in wonderment, finally finding her voice again. Tsering turned to her.

“Yes,” she replied simply. “I need you both to believe me, alright? I really am the Avatar. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but I’ve already seen a variety of reactions when people find out, and, well… I was already treated differently in my village before my eyes started glowing at my master ceremony.

“I want you both to accept me and continue to accompany me. I know we haven’t known each other for very long at all, but I really care about you both, and I really need your help,” she said. Xiuying laughed, throwing her arm around Tsering again. It was becoming the Firebender’s signature move, but Tsering couldn’t complain.

“Well, it is pretty unbelievable, but I wouldn’t leave you behind just because there are parts of you that I don’t understand yet,” the Firebender said with a grin. “I’ve still got your back. It’s still Air Master Tsering and Fire Queen Xiuying!... Only, I guess maybe now it’s Avatar Tsering and Fire Queen Xiuying,” she laughed.

“…And maybe Earth Explorer Numa, too?” Numa added tentatively, a hand on the back of her neck and another shy smile that melted Tsering’s heart. The Avatar smiled.

“Of course,” she murmured, embracing her new companions on either side of her. “Thank you both. I guess we’re headed to the Foggy Swamp, then. And thank you, Hono, so m–” Tsering cut herself off when she looked in front of her and the Bhanti woman had vanished. Her, her rug, and her stones had completely disappeared without a sound; only the candles remained, burning down into pools of wax on the ground.

“Come visit us on Bhanti Island sometime,” came a voice from behind her. When she turned around, though, there was no one there.

Chapter Text

The stress dreams had returned. Despite the serenity of Oma’s guest room, Tsering was plagued with magnified versions of Wan’s memories as she slept. Blood and dirt and dark trees enveloped her as if she were outside of Sun’s teahouse with Hono again. The swamp’s energy was so overwhelming that she could taste the scents of wet leaves and moss on her tongue, could feel the sinking heat pressing on her skin, could hardly breathe through the curtain of humidity that hung in the air. Tsering’s eyes flew open. She was drenched in sweat. I need some air, she thought, flinging back the damp sheets.

Outside, it was cool and dry, the exact opposite of the world she had just felt trapped in. Tsering shivered, the warmth of her dreams still clinging to her, and rushed around the palace to the ostrich-horse stables.

“Pingdeng?” she whispered in the dim moonlight. The bison mumbled sleepily, his beautiful sandy eyes opening to rest on her. It reminded her of when she first met him, and a smile crept to her face.

“I knew coming to you would make me feel better,” she sighed, falling into his soft flank. The bison lowed. I’m here for you, Tsering, she thought he might have said.

“Can we go up for a bit?” she asked him, climbing onto his neck. “I know it’s the middle of the night, but you haven’t flown in a few days, anyway,” she said when he grumbled to his feet. “Yip yip.”

As she expected, the higher up into the night her and Pingdeng rose, the more relief she felt.

“There is so much happening right now,” Tsering groaned, bringing him to a floating halt in the air. “I wish I had Sister Miksha’s guidance, or Yu’s wisdom, or the quiet of the Eastern mountains. I mean… it’s been amazing to see more of the world. But since I left, my life has felt like a complete whirlwind. I’ve never even left the village before. Why did I think I could handle this alone?!”

Pingdeng huffed in response. Tsering chuckled.

“You’re right. I’m not alone. I have you, and Xiuying, and… and Numa.”

Tsering laid across the top of her companion’s head, curling wisps of his fur around her fingers. It had been a while since she was completelty isolated from the world below, alone with only Pingdeng and her thoughts.

“I’m having so many new experiences and new… feelings that I don’t totally understand,” she continued. “It’s a lot.”

A familiar breeze tickled Tsering’s nose. I should meditate, she thought, straightening up on Pingdeng’s neck.

“I’ve hardly meditated in days,” the Avatar sighed quietly. Up in the air, without distractions, it was easy to let her thoughts fall away, back to the earth where their subjects slept. She closed her eyes and opened her mind to the stars overhead, the sheer vastness of the night sky, the still air all around, drinking the freedom of it into her lungs. I’d love it if you’d speak to me now, she said wordlessly. As if by command, the space behind her eyelids glowed icy blue, and she opened them to gaze upon Avatar Wan mirroring her lotus position. She smiled. It was practically effortless to reach him now.

“It’s because you’re growing,” Wan answered her thoughts. “Not just as an Avatar, but as a person, too.”

“Thank you, Wan,” Tsering said with a bow. She certainly felt that way, and it was a good sign that her past life felt so, too.

“I can sense that you met Hono,” he smirked. Tsering nodded, not surprised that he knew.

“I did. It seemed like she had met you before,” she replied. “She was a very interesting person. I’d never heard of the Bhanti tribe.”

“I hadn’t either, until after I battled Vaatu and sent the spirits away,” Wan said. “I was attacked by a rogue spirit that had managed to break through the barrier between worlds. Somehow, I ended up on the shore of their island. When the Bhanti shamans nursed me back to health and discovered that I was the Avatar, I spent some time with them, and we learned from each other.”

“A… rogue spirit? What does that even mean?” Tsering asked, bewildered.

“Honestly, I’m not totally sure myself,” Wan answered. “The Bhanti only told me that the spirits’ powers can vary significantly, and a few of them don’t need a portal to travel between realms; they can forge their own.”

He laughed sadly. Tsering realized he was the only human that had ever lived who could still watch the events of the mortal world unfolding after his death, but could do nothing about it.

“If I had known this, I might have reconsidered closing the portals in the first place. I theorized that I was attacked because the spirit was either angry at me for what I did, or it blamed me for all the human conflict that followed. I guess I’ll never know.”

Tsering blinked. The spirits’ powers vary significantly. She shook her head before worries began to pile up.

“Hono told me she could tell right away that I’m the Avatar. Was it the same for you?” she asked, not wanting to think about the infinite things that spirits might be capable of.

“Ah, I bet she could sense Raava within you, then? Well, it was the same for me, except the tribe is so secluded that they didn’t know of the Avatar. They knew I was a human, but they also knew I was a spirit, so I had some explaining to do once I’d recovered from my attack,” Wan chuckled. “The Bhanti come from a society of people known as the Sun Warriors. They never feared the spirits, and left their lion turtle long before I sent them away and closed the portals. They wanted to live in peace and master the spiritual side of Firebending, which is how they learned to read energy through fire. Their island is rich with spiritual energy… it has one of the world’s few spirit oases. They put my body into the oasis after they found me, and it saved my life.”

“S-spirit oases?” Tsering stuttered. Wan nodded.

“Yes. There are at least two in the mortal plane, and I have been to both. Ironically, both times, I was on the brink of death,” he laughed. “The water has special properties and can heal a mortal body in minutes. One of my best friends was the caretaker of the spirit oasis to the north.”

Wan’s face melted into a nostalgic grin. Tsering wondered what he had been like when he was her age, if he had laughed and played games with his friends, skipped out on chores, had a rebellious streak. I guess now I know I can seek out his memories and find out, she remembered.

“Anyway… when I told the Bhanti that human conflict was spreading across the world, they decided to end their seclusion and start sending sages out into the world to spread peace and spirituality. Hono is one of those sages. You didn’t meet her by accident.”

Tsering paused.

“Hono helped me look into some of your memories. Do you know anything that might help me in the Foggy Swamp? I’m travelling there to look for Sister Chomdem,” she said.

Wan’s expression suddenly changed dramatically.

“Chomdem.”

His whisper was pained, as if speaking her name hurt him. Waves of Wan’s emotions flooded over her, and Tsering strained against the invisible sea of energy, trying her best not fall off her bison. It was a powerful force, the long-buried feelings of her past life. She had come up here because she needed some air, and now felt like she might drown in her own element. Once the tide subsided, Tsering struggled to hide her reeling mind in the silence that followed. For many minutes, she waited patiently for Wan to speak again. He did not look at her.

“I visited the Foggy Swamp once. The swamp… it’s a very curious place. The average person may have visions or other spiritual experiences there, so for the Avatar, it can be quite an overwhelming ordeal. Many say the swamp itself is alive and sentient, and I have to agree. Tread lightly,” he uttered, his voice cloudy, his expression unreadable.

Tsering had quite a few guesses now as to how Wan and Chomdem were connected. His azure figure began to fade before her eyes, and, much to Tsering’s relief, the thick air of angst that had formed around them.

“Thank you, Avatar Wan,” she whispered gently.

Wan finally looked up at her again.

“If you find her… tell her I’m sorry.”

His eyes pierced icicles of anguish into hers before they disappeared. Tsering thought that for as long as she lived, she might never forget that look he had given her.

Chapter Text

With too many thoughts tumbling around in her mind, the Avatar finally decided to give up on a good night’s sleep. She sat up, turning towards the other guest bed.

“Xiuying?” she murmured into the blackness. Maybe her friend would be willing to go for a late-night stroll through the city together. However, there was no answer.

“Xiuying? Are you awake?” she called softly.

Again, nothing.

Once Tsering’s eyes adjusted to the dim room, she noticed that her Firebending friend wasn’t in her bed. Spirits, where has she gone? she wondered, grabbing her glider-stick on her way out of the room.

Fortunately, Tsering remembered the way to Sun’s shop, smirking as she rounded the corner and found that her instincts had led her to the right place. A soft orange glow emanated from the teahouse despite its sign saying “closed.”

Peering through one of the open windows, she saw Xiuying leaning over the counter in the exact same place Numa had been when they had first come here. She almost called out to her friend before she noticed that Xiuying’s face was only inches away from Sun’s. They both had sloppy grins plastered across their faces, and mumbled indistinctly to each other, their eyes much too focused on one another to notice Tsering in the window. There were a few bottles resembling the ones from Yao’s tavern beside them. Tsering’s heartbeat quickened as she watched Sun lean forward and kiss Xiuying from across the counter. She looked away quickly, her eyes wide.

Whoa.

Sure, she had seen couples in her village openly express their love for one another, but never in this context, nor with one of those lovers being her friend. Her instincts told her to turn and go right back to Oma’s palace, but the thought of returning to her dark, empty room, to her dreams, made Tsering bite her lip and turn back to the scene in the window instead. Xiuying had moved behind the counter with Sun, who held the Firebender’s scarred face tenderly. Tsering grinned, waiting for the right moment. Suddenly, they stopped kissing and Xiuying murmured something to Sun, who turned toward the window. The Avatar’s muscles tensed, wondering if she’d been spotted too soon. But the shopkeeper only moved the bottles on the counter over so that Xiuying could lift them onto the wooden surface. Tsering almost started giggling. The perfect time to make her grand entrance.

"Am I interrupting?" she called with angelic innocence, theatrically poking half her body through the entryway.

Xiuying started. Sun whipped around from their position on the countertop, starting to shout at a volume that could only indicate embarrassment that the shop was closed, before seeing who it was. For a second, there was only stunned silence, before the shopkeeper threw their head back and started laughing, their legs still wrapped around Xiuying’s waist.

“Spirits, Tsering, you nearly made me fall!” they exclaimed, still cackling.

"H-how did you know I would be here?" Xiuying managed to ask, her face and neck more scarlet than Tsering had ever seen it.

“Well, I couldn’t sleep, and you weren’t there, so I figured you might be here,” she said to Xiuying with a chuckle and a hand on the back of her neck. "I'm sorry," she added hastily, suddenly feeling a bit embarrassed to have intruded.

Xiuying and Sun glanced at each other. Xiuying sighed, unwillingly removing her hands from their body.

“Later, then,” she murmured in Sun’s ear, her grin returning as she crossed the room and put her arm around Tsering.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, Tsering, seriously,” she said, laying out a few cushions around a low table from where they’d been neatly stacked for the night. “Why couldn’t you sleep? Are you alright?”

Tsering sighed. “I don’t know,” she said, sitting down. “I’m really anxious about going to the Foggy Swamp tomorrow. Something about that place is… different.”

“You’re going to the Foggy Swamp tomorrow? I was just painting it,” Sun said, jumping down from the counter and hurrying through a wooden door into a back room. They returned with the painting they’d been working on when Tsering and Xiuying first met them, placing it on the table and sitting down. Tsering studied the art, especially the creature at the river. What is that thing?

“I’ve been there once already, and that’s why I was really looking forward to going again with Numa. It is different, different from any place you’ll ever go. You’d better be careful, and make sure you stick together. Is Numa going with you?” they asked. The girls nodded. “Good. She’s an incredible Earthbender. She’ll keep you two out of trouble, I hope,” they said teasingly. Tsering blushed. Xiuying flashed a sly grin.

“Or we’ll get her into trouble with us,” she replied, nudging Tsering with her elbow. The Airbender cleared her throat, hoping to force some of the embarrassment out of her body.

“Sun, what is this critter drinking at the river? I’ve never seen any animal like it before,” Tsering asked, pointing to the tiny green six-legged creature with what appeared to be leaves for ears.

“Oh, that’s no animal. It’s a spirit. I got separated from my group in the swamp, and while I was trying to find them, I saw it drinking from a river just like that,” they said. “When it saw me, it disappeared. None of my friends believed me. They told me it was probably swamp gas making me hallucinate, that the spirits were all sent away, but I know what I saw.”

Turkey-duckbumps scattered across Tsering’s skin as she looked closer at the tiny painted image. She wouldn’t describe this exceedingly-cute spirit as a rogue, that was for sure. It looked gentle and kind, like it might recognize the Avatar and want to be friends.

“I believe you. Thank you for showing this to me, Sun,” she said to the shopkeeper. “I feel a little better now. Xiuying, do you want to head back to Oma’s with me?”

“Actually, I, uh, think I’ll be staying here with Sun tonight,” Xiuying replied with a cheeky grin.

“Got it,” Tsering said, quickly getting to her feet as her ears and cheeks grew hot. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”

“See you tomorrow!” the Firebender replied, unable to suppress a giggle as she waved.

“Goodnight, Tsering,” Sun said gently as the Airbender hastened towards the exit, her mind whirling.

Oma had called in her personal chef to treat the girls to a big breakfast on the morning of their traveling day, but Numa insisted they take their meal to go when Tsering subtly mentioned that Xiuying wouldn’t be joining them. Tsering wondered whether Numa had told her mother that she was traveling with the Avatar as the older woman sent them off with a kind smile, a smorgasbord of neatly-packaged food, and a few gentle well wishes. She wondered if the older woman had ever met Wan, both of them being legends.

“We’d better bring the lovebirds some of this food,” the young Earthbender laughed as they traversed the massive staircase from her home. It seemed that the shock of Tsering’s revelation by Hono had faded somewhat – she was grateful that Numa, who had been left completely speechless at the time, didn’t appear to be treating her any differently today. Tsering tried not to stare too much at Numa’s powerful arms as she swung them back and forth in the same way that her mother did.

“I actually, uh… spent a night with Sun once, as well,” Numa admitted as they strolled through lanes of closed shops. One or two were just starting to open for the day, yawning shopkeepers sweeping dust off doorsteps. Tsering swallowed hard. Heat rushed to her face and ears again as her imagination ran wild.

“We’re better as friends, but still… Sun’s a pretty special person. Special people are... difficult for me to resist,” she chuckled. “Have you seen their art?” she asked in the silence that followed.

Tsering nodded, finally figuring out how to make her mouth work again.

“They showed me their painting of the Foggy Swamp last night,” she replied, realizing immediately how that sounded.

“Tsering, were… were you at Sun’s last night too?” Numa asked in amazement. Tsering cleared her throat.

“I… I was just looking for Xiuying,” she stuttered. “I may have stopped by at the wrong time, though,” she added with a nervous laugh.

“Wow, Tsering. You’re a regular peeping cat-owl, aren’t you?” Numa teased, a chortle in her throat as she lightly thumped Tsering’s arm.

“Hey, give me a break! I’ve never kissed anyone before!” Tsering laughed, pushing the older girl.

Numa paused. “Really?” she asked.

“Uh, yeah, really,” Tsering stuttered, acutely aware of Numa's eyes studying her. That familiar timid feeling returned as they approached the teahouse.

“Rise and shine, you two! Put on some clothes; it’s time for breakfast!” Numa called as they slid past the “closed” sign and beaded curtain of the teahouse.

Tsering chuckled as a tired groan bled through the door behind the counter. Numa began to spread their breakfast out across the same low table where Sun had shown Tsering their painting last night. The Avatar noted with a chuckle that the floor cushions were still laid out from last night, having been forgotten. The two waited for their friends for a while before finally giving in to their appetites, unwilling to let fresh food grow cold in front of them. As they finished their meal, a bedraggled Xiuying joined them. Tsering raised an eyebrow at her, glancing at a bruise-like mark on her neck.

“Did you sleep well, Xiuying?” Tsering asked mockingly.

“Sleep? What sleep?” Xiuying rasped in response.

“Come on, we want to have as much daylight as possible. You can eat on the way. Leave the rest for Sun; I’m sure they’ll need it,” Numa laughed.

Chapter Text

Compared to their journeys so far, it wouldn’t take long at all to fly to the Foggy Swamp from Omashu. Tsering was thankful for that, since Numa, despite having been overjoyed upon first meeting Pingdeng, turned green with illness high up in the air.

“Earthbenders do better down on the earth, I guess,” Xiuying chuckled lightheartedly, rubbing the young woman’s back as she vomited off the side of Pingdeng’s saddle.

Tsering couldn’t imagine. Being thousands of feet in the air, completely untethered and uninhibited, was one of the best feelings in the world to her. Now that she was confident in her bending abilities, she took immense pleasure in the adrenaline of catching air currents with her glider-stick, lifting off with Pingdeng, free-falling through the clouds.

“Uh, what is that?” Tsering was snapped out of her thoughts by Numa’s concerned question. Still leaning over the side of the saddle, she pointed down at the ground at a small cluster of buildings: a village. Several pillars of dark smoke rose from the structures. Tsering’s stomach dropped at the sight.

“That village is under attack!” Xiuying shouted as a massive burst of fire erupted into sight below, followed by another and another.

“Pingdeng, down there! Hurry!” Tsering yelled, snapping the reins.

With her glider-stick, the Avatar dove through the sky to land first, using her momentum to send a whopping air blast at a group of fierce-looking people towering over a terrified young couple. She noticed that the offenders donned war paint on their faces and arms.

“Are you alright?” she bent down to ask the shaking pair, noticing that one of them clutched a baby to their chest. They looked at her with fearful eyes. She reached her hand out to comfort them, but they turned and fled. Tsering felt a surge of despair wash over her. The citizens of this village were so engulfed in fear, they even ran from a gentle hand.

As soon as Pingdeng landed, Numa and Xiuying leapt from the saddle into a sprint towards the nearest road. Tsering joined them, leaving her sadness for the young family she’d just saved behind. Screams echoed between the old buildings. Footsteps rushed in every direction. Wooden frames burnt and snapped. The sounds of fire and earth being flung around filled the air.

“We need to split up,” Numa declared, her voice firm and shockingly calm. “Otherwise, the bandits will destroy everything.”

“Bandits?” Tsering asked. She had never heard the word before. It was harsh and grating, like an unsharpened blade’s first touch to a whetstone – a sound she had first heard in Omashu. Xiuying looked at her, sympathetic.

“There’s no time to explain. Be careful,” the Firebender shouted, her and Numa already rushing away down different footpaths.

Tsering’s heart pounded. Turning towards a building with a smoldering roof, she leapt up and swung her glider-stick at it with all her might, bending a powerful gust of air that blew the small flames right out. She dropped into the building through the charred hole in the roof, realizing with horror that this was someone’s home. Pieces of smashed furniture and personal items littered the floor, but Tsering was relieved to find that there was no one inside. A damaged painting of a large family on the floor, at least three generations grinning up at her, made her heart ache. There’s no time, Xiuying’s voice echoed in her ears.

She turned and ran outside, and was nearly knocked over by a thin, grizzled man riding an ostrich-horse out of the village. The man had the same war paint as the other bandits, and his clothes were filthy. The animal he rode was loaded up with sacks of food and other stolen items of value.

She looked into the man’s eyes as he passed, and shock coursed through her body. There was not a glimmer of empathy in them, only anger, and such pleading desperation that she knew he would not hesitate to kill her if she got in his way. Tsering was frozen in place, wrestling with contradiction. The bandit was actively running away with things that belonged to other people, but what should she do? She had expected him to look like his companions, the hulking people she had stopped from brutalizing a family, a cruel cynic who took pleasure in robbing people and destroying their homes. Instead, however, the man escaping her was nearly starving, his compassion crippled by his own unfortunate circumstances. She sighed. Still, that didn’t give him the right to steal and cause harm to others. Tsering jumped, spinning around as she swung her glider-stick, and a curving arc of wind blasted the man and stolen goods off the ostrich-horse. The animal kept running at full speed, and with the wind knocked completely out of him, the man couldn’t call out to it. Tsering quickly bent a cushion of air to ease his fall before spinning around and running towards where the fires were growing taller.

In what appeared to be the center of the village, Tsering spotted a well. She hopped onto it, feeling around for the water deep within the earth. The resounding noises of the village being ransacked crackled dauntingly through the air. Tsering swore for the first time ever, wishing her Waterbending skills were better so she could find the water faster. As soon as she felt cool, soothing energy below her, she began to pull the water upward, hoping to spray it on as many of the aflame buildings as possible. A massive boulder crashing inches away from where she balanced over the well suddenly interrupted her. Tsering leapt away with a startled yelp, her connection with the water severed.

“Hey! What are you doing?” a bandit yelled, slinging more rocks at her as he ran towards her.

Tsering managed to avoid each hunk of earth he lobbed at her, using both hands to bend a gale of air back at him. However, the bandit brought his arms together, bending a stone barrier directly in front of himself, and Tsering’s wind only succeeded in slowing him momentarily. Eventually, one of his earthen projectiles bit into her leg, and she fell, crying out in pain. Under her palm seethed a bloody gash. It was the first time she had felt pain like this, inflicted by another, and tears involuntarily leapt from her eyes. The man was now much too close for comfort, and Tsering grabbed her glider-stick, but realized he could easily break it with a well-aimed rock.

“Leave her alone!” came a familiar voice from behind her.

Tsering turned to see Numa racing into view. The bulky Earthbender, much taller than Tsering’s assailant, stepped between her and the bandit. She caught the next boulder he had launched with her Earthbending, hurling it back with immense power. It crashed into his stomach, forcefully expelling the air from his lungs as he flipped over completely, landing on his hands and knees. Numa then stomped the ground and summoned a huge wall of earth that crashed into the bandit’s exposed chin, sending him flying backwards. Tsering was astounded, nearly distracted from the pulsing pain of her wound. For how introverted the young Earthbender seemed most of the time, she could sure face danger head-on… and danger didn’t stand a chance. Numa turned and knelt in front of her.

“Are you okay?” the older girl asked, placing her hands on Tsering’s leg carefully. Like her mother, Numa could go from intimidating to nurturing in an instant.

As deep as the abrasion was, Tsering gritted her teeth and nodded. She needed to be okay if they were going to save this village. Numa tore some cloth from the leg of her pants and began wrapping it around her leg.

“Wait,” Tsering strained, reaching for the well.

This time, it was easier to seek out the water. With her jaw clenched from the effort, she pulled her fists towards herself, and a burst of liquid erupted from the well. The Avatar opened her hands and guided the massive bubble of water overhead, struggling to keep it all together with the throbbing lesion on her leg. Just when she couldn’t hold the water any longer, she thrusted her hands out on either side of her and let it fall like rain over the blazing village. Only then did she beckon another trickle to run through her wound and carry the debris out of it. The pain was white-hot in her bones. Tsering cried out, her tears puddling on her robes. Despite the downpour, the sounds of fighting still echoed throughout the village.

“Weeping wolf-bats,” Numa breathed, gazing around at the soaked buildings. She looked at her friend, bender of air and water. “You can Waterbend.”

If Tsering wasn’t in so much pain, she would have laughed. It was almost the exact same reaction that Sister Miksha had.

“I told you I’m the Avatar,” she said through deep breaths to calm herself. Numa blinked, thunderstruck, as if what Hono had said back in Omashu was finally clicking. Now, Tsering did laugh, though her leg boiled at the motion.

“A little help, please?” she asked sarcastically, gesturing to the crimson slash. A small red puddle had formed on the ground underneath her leg. The Earthbender blinked again, her cheeks growing pink.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said quickly, turning her shining eyes back to the half-wrapped laceration. “It’s just… surprising to see, is all. Your bending is incredible.” The young woman’s blushing compliment made Tsering’s stomach twist itself into knots.

“You don’t have to lie; I’m only a beginning Waterbender,” the Avatar insisted as Numa tied the cloth tightly around her leg.

“There’s no way that was a beginner move,” Numa retorted. She wrapped her strong arm around Tsering’s back to help her up. “I’m not lying. Look around. Do you see any more buildings on fire?” she asked.

Tsering paused. The scent of damp, charred wood hung in the air, and the clouds of smoke had grown thin.

“Can you stand?” Numa asked. The Avatar nodded, though she wanted the young woman to keep her arm where it was, even for just a moment longer.

“Thanks for saving me, Numa,” Tsering said softly, but before the Earthbender could reply, the bandit that she had knocked out began to regain consciousness, groaning as he rose unsteadily to his feet.

Numa’s face grew stoney as she stepped again between him and Tsering, but the man didn’t look capable of throwing another rock at them, staggering this way and that. Suddenly, the thundering sound of running ostrich-horses drew near, and a half-dozen of them crashed into view, ridden by bandits each with various injuries. One of them reached her arm out and pulled the man that had attacked Tsering onto her ostrich-horse.

“Let’s get out of here!” another bandit shouted as the group passed the two girls. They galloped down the road and out of sight, and soon, the village grew quiet. Debris littered the dusty streets. Residents began to emerge from their hiding places to tend to their ailments and gather the fragments of their remaining property. Tsering watched the young couple she had rescued before limp back to their home, their baby starting to cry.

So, this was the violence that Wan needed her help with. This was the human conflict and suffering that had followed in his wake, the result of his decision to change the world as he knew it. Tsering looked around at the dilapidated village, wondering how many more were just like it. Her mind conjured the bloody battlefield she had seen in Wan’s memories. Sure, her leg hurt. The pain was agonizing, in fact. But how many people around the world had suffered dozens of those same wounds, had lost limbs, lost their homes, lost loved ones, lost their own lives? She thought of Xiuying, her fiery friend’s childhood swallowed by flames. She looked at Numa, who was speaking with one of the villagers, her heart feeling like it could fall right out of her chest. The young woman beside her had never met her father, had grown up nursed by a grieving parent, had probably held her mother’s hand while Oma mourned their loss. And around the world, people suffered in this same way, all while her people sheltered away, safe from harm in the Eastern Mountains. Through blurred vision, Tsering thought she could see faint silhouettes, shadows of what Wan had seen in his life; civilians-turned-soldiers clashed together in combat, both sides fighting a losing battle. And all because of the Avatar.

Numa glanced at her.

“Spirits, Tsering, are you alright?!” the Earthbender asked, turning and resting both hands on the Avatar’s shoulders.

Tsering blinked and touched her cheek. She hadn’t even realized she was crying, heaving sobs that burned her lungs and shook her bones.

“Does it hurt? We can rest here if you need. Take your time; it’s going to be alright.” Numa’s voice was gentle as an afternoon breeze, her eyes attentive as they looked deep into the Avatar’s, but Tsering shook her head.

“It’s… it’s not the pain. I… we need to find Xiuying,” she replied, wiping her face. Numa nodded, though she seemed unconvinced.

They moved slowly through the footpaths of the village, Tsering trying her best not to stumble, checking on villagers as they went. It didn’t appear that anyone had been fatally hurt, and Tsering was relieved – she had no idea how she might react if someone had lost their life today. Her and Numa turned down a deserted path, and at the end of it stood Xiuying, panting heavily. The earth all around her had been scorched, and she wiped her dagger twice before sheathing it. The Firebender stood at an angle, and as they drew closer, Tsering could see that she was dripping sweat.

“Whoa,” Numa said under her breath. Judging by her current state, it appeared that Xiuying must have been the cause of the bandits’ retreat. Did she really take them all on at once?

“Xiuying! Are you alright?” Tsering called. The girl in red looked up and moved towards the pair.

“Whoa, are you alright? What happened to your leg?!” the Firebender answered, gesturing to Tsering’s makeshift bandage. Scarlet trickles had already bled through the fabric and were painting thin red trails down her leg, dying her brown skin russet.

“She put out all the fires with Waterbending,” Numa interjected. Xiuying’s jaw dropped.

“No way,” she cried. “The first time you bend another element, and I’m not even there to see it?!” she threw her red hands in the air in frustration. Tsering snickered, despite how heavy her chest still felt from crying. She pulled Xiuying into a tight hug.

“Wait, the sudden rain that fell over the village…was that you?!” Xiuying asked, pulling away and shaking Tsering’s shoulders.

“Flying squirrel-frogs,” she exclaimed when the Avatar nodded.

“We should make sure everyone else is alright and then get back to Pingdeng,” Numa said. “Let’s get you properly patched up,” she murmured, lightly sweeping the back of her hand over Tsering’s arm.

With as much pain as she was in, the Avatar’s heart quivered.

Chapter Text

“Are we there yet?” Numa groaned, holding her stomach.

The young Earthbender had no problem being in the saddle when they were still grounded and tending to Tsering’s wound from the bandit raid, but being in the sky was a vastly different story. Tsering and Xiuying shared a sympathetic glance. Numa would have to get used to it soon, being a companion of the Air Avatar.

“Actually, yes, we are,” Tsering replied, turning back to gaze out at the endless expanse of trees between Pingdeng’s horns. “I just… have no idea where to land. The tree cover is really thick.”

Xiuying climbed onto Pingdeng’s neck and sat beside her.

“Whoa. This is a lot different from being in the saddle,” the Firebender laughed nervously, a hand on the back of her neck. Tsering slung her arm over Xiuying’s shoulders.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured her, speaking loud enough for Numa to hear, too. “You won’t fall, and even if you did, I would catch you.”

Xiuying grinned. “I think I could handle it without your help, Avatar,” she joked. From behind them, Numa gave a coughing laugh.

“I would love to see you try,” the Earthbender said, wiping her mouth.

As her two friends bantered back and forth, Tsering stared down at the swamp. There was that same mesmerizing call again. The same threads of energy tugging her down. The same whispers of someone else’s emotions in her heart. She leaned so far over her bison’s neck that Xiuying grabbed her arm and pulled her back instinctively.

“Hey, stop scaring me,” the Firebender whined. “Uh… why are we going down? There’s nowhere to land,” she added, peering down at the approaching treetops. Tsering didn’t answer.

“Tsering? Tsering!” Numa shouted. Pingdeng grumbled nervously, halting his descent to hover just over the thick foliage. The Avatar blinked hard, shaking her head.

“Sorry. I don’t know what it is about this place,” she sighed, pulling on Pingdeng’s reins to keep on searching for a safe landing point.

Before the bison could take off again, he suddenly roared in confusion. Dozens of stringy vines had shot up from below and grabbed him. Slimy green tendrils wrapped around Pingdeng’s legs and horns, snaking between gaps in the saddle and wrapping around the reins, and Tsering’s wrists with them. Xiuying yelped and jumped backwards onto the saddle, narrowly missing several vines aiming for her. Numa shouted in pain, trying to pull her arms free from where they’d been fastened firmly to the saddle by the thin plants.

As quickly as the group found themselves entangled, the vines began to pull them down below the tree line. Pingdeng struggled to pull free, bellowing and lashing his tail, but only succeeded in throwing Xiuying onto her back, vulnerable to vines that wrapped quickly around her legs. With free hands, she released herself with a blast of fire. Feeling the flames behind him only frightened Pingdeng more, but it seemed that with every effort to escape, the vines’ grip on him only grew stronger.

“Pingdeng!” Tsering yelled, the thin plants constricting her upper limbs. It was much darker under the thick foliage. The Avatar squinted as she tried to bend air between her arms and the vines, to no effect.

She jumped up, her legs still unfettered, kicking blasts of air at the shadows where the vines had come from, but the pain from her recent injury caught up to her quickly. She landed on her back on Pingdeng’s head, and in response, more vines shot up and snatched her ankles. Tsering cried out, immobilized; the vines’ grip was excruciatingly tight, enough so to completely numb all four of her limbs. She imagined it was the same for Pingdeng.

Behind her, Xiuying fought barrages of vines furiously, shooting fire in all directions and lashing at attacking plants with her dagger. Tsering watched as her kind, frivolous friend’s demeanor changed dramatically. An expression mixing fear, rage, and protectiveness was plastered across her scarred face. Xiuying moved like a storm, dancing across the saddle and thundering at the swarm of greenery that was trapping and hurting her friends. Even with her efforts, however, the attacking plants did not let up.

With a roar of frustration, Xiuying spread her stance uncharacteristically wide. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and then jutted them outward vigorously as ten thin streams of fire spouted from each of her fingers. She moved her arms up and down with great force, and the jets of flame lengthened, lashing like whips at the attacking plants. Tsering’s eyes widened. It must have taken an extraordinary amount of skill to maintain and control each individual cord of fire. Xiuying looked like a great, flaming phoenix taking flight – her Firebending was simply beautiful.

The incredible feat bought her just enough time to free Numa, and Tsering could see that the vines had left deep red indents on the Earthbender’s muscley arms. Blood welled up in fragmented stripes on her brassy skin. Despite how much it must have hurt, Numa jumped up immediately and spread her bleeding arms wide, her palms face-down and eyes squeezed shut, head cocked with one ear angled towards the ground. Then, her eyes flew open, and, with a searing glance of concern aimed at Tsering, she punched both hands to the left. Tsering heard a menacing rumble, water splashing, and loud snapping noises from below. Suddenly, they were falling fast, all four companions screaming as they crashed through layers of branches and into water below.

“Is everyone alright?!” Tsering called into the murky air, breathing hard. Pingdeng grumbled in response, slowly rising to his feet in the shallow water. Xiuying’s face appeared, illuminated in fire, glowing orange right over Tsering’s head. The Firebender was sweating profusely.

“We’re fine,” she panted, shooting a stream of fire from one finger that neatly snapped the vines wrapped around the Avatar’s arms and ankles. Tsering cringed as she was released – like Numa, the vines had wound so tightly around her that they had broken her skin in many places. Xiuying offered her a hand, and Tsering was surprised by her friend’s unsuspecting strength as she pulled her effortlessly to her feet and onto the saddle with them. With extra adrenaline still pumping through her veins, Tsering wrapped her arms around the Firebender.

“Hey, it’s alright, Tsering,” Xiuying murmured. “Clearly, the swamp wanted us to land here, even though there was… nowhere to land,” she chuckled nervously.

“I was so worried I led us right to our deaths by bringing us here.” Tsering’s voice trembled. Xiuying stroked her back gently.

The shadows were abruptly speared by beams of sunlight piercing through the foliage, and at last, Tsering could see her surroundings. Xiuying’s skin and clothes were marbled with dirt, and Numa was already wrapping bandages around her arms.

Tsering jumped down into the waist-deep water, using her Airbending to land gracefully and not splash water in Pingdeng’s nose.

“Oh, buddy, I’m so glad you’re alright,” Tsering whispered, tears welling in her eyes as she hugged her companion’s face. The bison mumbled, nuzzling her affectionately. His fur was streaked with dark green. She thought of all the close calls that had just occurred, all the hazards they had just encountered, immensely grateful that everything in sight was under two feet of water. Who knew how far they just fell – what if Pingdeng had fallen right onto hard ground? What if he had been choked by vines, or stabbed by tree branches as they dropped, all while she was bound and unable to help? She shook her head to clear the horror in her mind. It wasn’t like her to be so anxious, but, after all, now she had a whole group of cherished friends right in front of her – there was plenty at stake if things went wrong.

Xiuying jumped down into the water on Pingdeng’s side.

“See? Fire’s not so scary, buddy,” she said to the bison as she set to work gently burning away the vines that were still wrapped around him. He groaned in relief as he was released, bundles of plants falling away.

“How did you do that, with the fire coming out of your fingers?” Numa asked Xiuying as she finished wrapping her arms. The Firebender shrugged.

“I guess it was part of trying to teach myself how to make a flaming dagger. I haven’t mastered channeling the fire through my fingers and the dagger at the same time yet, but I guess I’ve mastered the first part of it. You have to have a lot of control over your fire, or else you’ll do more harm than good,” she explained.

“You were amazing,” Tsering said. “When the time comes for me to learn Firebending, I hope I can have even half of your skill.”

“Your praise is going to inflate her ego, you know,” Numa chuckled.

“She’s right,” Xiuying laughed.

“Come here, Tsering,” the Earthbender said, beckoning Tsering back up onto the saddle. “You’re bleeding, again.”

Tsering leapt up and crouched down across from Numa, who set to work tenderly cleaning and bandaging her wounds. Tsering winced, despite how careful Numa was being; sure, the wooden obstacle course back home had smacked her around plenty, but she’d never endured so many bleeding wounds at once before. What a way to start this journey.

“Sorry, I know how much it stings,” the young woman apologized. “At this rate, you’re going to be covered in bandages by the time we’re through here,” she chuckled, smoothing out the wraps on the Avatar’s multicolor ankles and forearms with wide, gentle hands.

Tsering stared into her face until Numa looked up at her. Their eye contact could’ve lasted a minute or a lifetime; Tsering felt more allured and absorbed in Numa’s deep, woodsy gaze than the swamp itself as it’d called out to her. For a long, long moment, they looked into each other’s eyes, Numa’s hands on Tsering’s wrist, having forgotten what they were doing.

“Wow, Pingdeng, you’re lucky you’ve got thick fur,” Xiuying broke the silence, scratching the bison’s chin. “Not a scratch on you, thank the spirits. Although I think you’ll need a bath when we get back.” He huffed in response, shaking out his free limbs.

“Thanks for taking care of me, Numa,” Tsering said softly. The Earthbender smiled at her. She couldn’t tell if Numa’s face was red from the encounter with the vines or from something else.

“So… what was that, exactly?” Xiuying asked, her hands on her hips as she gazed out at the endless walls of vegetation on all sides. “All those vines coming at us with a mind of their own? Is that just… a normal thing here?”

“I have no idea,” Numa replied, looking around. “And now they’ve left us alone. What a strange thing.”

“I could feel water inside the vines,” Tsering said. “And… something else.”

“Something else?” the Firebender asked. Tsering nodded.

“I don’t really know how to explain,” she said. “Some kind of spiritual energy. Honestly, it’s pretty much everywhere in this place. It’s really... overwhelming.”

The three of them paused, ruminating. Tsering wondered if her friends could feel the same push and pull of the swamp’s energy that was impacting her. She wondered what they thought of her, having only recently discovered that she was the Avatar, that the Avatar’s life extended beyond one lifetime, that she had all of Avatar Wan’s powers, abilities far beyond even her own knowledge.

“Numa, how did you save us up there?” Xiuying asked as she climbed back onto the saddle.

“I found the earth under the water below us and tried my best to bend it into an edge sharp enough to cut through the vines,” Numa explained. “I wasn’t sure if it would work, since not only is the ground submerged, but I’ve always been more skilled with bending large amounts of earth, like my parents,” she said. “I want to master all styles of Earthbending, though, so lately I’ve been working hard on honing my small-scale bending skills.”

“Wow,” Tsering breathed. She wished she could have seen the earth rise under Pingdeng, summoned and sharpened at Numa’s will.

There was a long pause as the three girls surveyed their surroundings together.

“So… this is it. The Foggy Swamp,” Tsering breathed. It affected her senses in the same way as it had in Wan’s memories: deep, dank, and all-consuming. She shivered, though it wasn’t cold.

“It’s pretty creepy below the tree line,” Xiuying mumbled. Numa and Tsering nodded in agreement.

“Which direction should we head in first?”

Chapter Text

It was slow-going through the Foggy Swamp.

The terrain lived up to its name. It was unpredictable, unrelenting, and often enveloped in a thick mist that made navigation incredibly confusing. Gradually, Tsering and her friends grew used to the constant moisture, to wringing their clothes out at the end of each day, to making the most of the fleeting periods of sunlight. They became accustomed to seeking out trees with thick enough branches to sleep on, falling asleep with the chorus of night sounds all around, and sometimes waking up to find that their surroundings looked a bit different than they had the day before. They were each other’s only constants in an inconsistent environment. They spent every hour of every day and night together. In their time in the swamp, Tsering felt that she was learning the maps of her friends’ souls. She had lived and shared a sleeping space with dozens of her peers in her home village, but this was infintesimally different. She knew she’d never forget their time there together.

Time seemed to pass differently in the swamp. There was no change in climate to mark each passing season like back home in the Eastern mountains. Eventually, Tsering lost count of how many days, weeks, probably months they had been there. She wondered if she would turn 17 years old in the swamp. Her hair had grown back as thick as ever; now, it was nearly the same length it had been when she’d shaved it off. Each time she tried to shear the top of it with the flimsy blade that Miksha had given her, she wondered when she would see her guardian again and get it properly shaved.

Occasionally, Pingdeng grew antsy and claustrophobic, yearning for the open sky overhead. Tsering worried every time he rose above the tree line that he might not come back, that the landscape might change and separate them, or worse. On cloudy days, the Avatar wished that she could Firebend. She yearned to help take the burden off Xiuying as their only source of fire, filling that void with Waterbending practice that never failed to dazzle her friends. Despite Numa’s and Xiuying’s awe and encouragement, Tsering knew that her half-baked, self-taught Waterbending skills would be so much better with a real bending instructor. Of course, despite the endless supply of water in the swamp, it seemed like the place was completely uninhabited. There were no benders of any sort to be found.

Traversing the swamp was proving to be quite a challenging ordeal, especially as the countless hours passed with no sign of Chomdem, or any other humans, for that matter. And the humidity. Spirits, the unyielding humidity. Still, every time she looked at her companions, Tsering realized there was nowhere she would rather be than here, no one she would rather be with than Pingdeng and Xiuying and Numa.

Whenever the group needed to stop moving and rest, Tsering meditated. She tried to conjure more of Wan’s memories, more of Chomdem’s energy, a spirit, anything that might help them seek out the missing pieces of this puzzle. She felt it strange that neither her nor her companions had experienced any of the visions or spiritual experiences that others had told them about, unless their first day here counted. Speaking of which, even the vines had left them alone since the day they arrived. At this point, she was willing something, anything, to happen that might give them a sign they were in the right place and on the right path.

“One of my favorite Earthbending moves is something I call the Rock Ring, where I crush big stones into tiny rocks and bend them in an orbit around me,” Numa was saying to Xiuying. The two older girls faced each other, stretching in synchronization on an earthen platform above the water that Numa had bent for the group. “It was pretty difficult to get the hang of bending earth that small, but I found that starting from bigger rocks and having the movement of the ring helps. And when I use my nunchaku, I can make the ring move even faster. It’s really fun,” she said enthusiastically, ending her anecdote with a bashful smile.

It may very well have been the most consecutive words they’d heard from her in their journey together so far. Tsering was thrilled, trying, and failing, to maintain the focus of her meditation.

“You’ve got to show us that move,” Xiuying exclaimed.

“Right now?” Numa asked hesitantly.

“Yes, please,” Tsering said, opening her eyes. Numa blushed, rising to her feet.

“Alright. Here goes,” she exhaled. “The key to Earthbending is a grounded stance,” she said thoughtfully, undoubtably an echo of Oma’s instruction, as she widened her bent knees.

Tsering rose to her feet and mimicked the position as best she could, planting her feet firmly on the ground. It felt foreign, focusing so much on being the roots instead of the leaf. Numa grinned.

“You’ve nearly got it,” she said warmly. “That’s a pretty solid stance. But let’s see if you can do this.”

She lifted her arms, her muscles bulging with the effort as a dozen boulders suddenly exploded from the earth all around them. Pingdeng gave a startled roar. Xiuying gasped. Tsering stared. With her arms extended on either side of her, Numa closed her fists, and the boulders shrank, splitting into smaller stones as they compressed. She brought her fists in towards her chest, bending the rocks into a tight ring around her body. Then, much to Tsering’s surprise, and for the first time in her and Xiuying’s presence, Numa reached for her nunchaku. Tsering could hear her own heartbeat in her ears as the Earthbender closed her eyes and leapt into perhaps the most graceful sequence of movements that she had ever seen.

Numa whisked her nunchaku through the dense air, alternating which hand she held them in without losing momentum and without losing control over the earthen ring around her. She twirled about, flicking and lashing the nunchaku with practiced intensity and poise. Slowly, the ring began to rotate. Every motion was elegant as a peacock-deer as the orbit gained speed. As if on cue, a beam of sunlight illuminated her golden skin, flooding through the dark trees just for her. Tsering’s eyes widened. In the light above her beautiful friend, there was a faint glimmer of something. It was diamond-shaped, with a gorgeous flowing tail, and the purest white she had ever seen, its color even more dazzling within the sunlight. Inside it swirled a pattern in the exact same light blue color as Tsering’s tattoos. Tsering thought she knew what – who? – it was, and she held her breath. As quickly as the vision had flickered into view, it disappeared. Numa’s rock ring, her very own invention, began to move outward and away from her as she spun, and Tsering thought she might be losing control of it. However, she realized that her friend was only giving herself more space to finish her routine. She jumped into a majestic backwards flip and landed down on one knee, her head bowed, extending the hand she held her nunchaku in to send the rocks all in different directions. For a long moment, there was silence, except for Numa’s quiet panting. Even the swamp itself seemed to have sank into an awed hush.

“Whoa,” Xiuying whispered.

“Well, I don’t think I can do that,” Tsering breathed, butterfly-chipmunks filling her stomach. Despite her attempt at an Earthbending stance, she felt like she was floating. She didn’t have to ask her friends; she knew the vision had been hers, and hers alone.

The husky young woman rose to her feet, sliding her nunchaku back into her waistband, and sauntered over to where Tsering stood.

“That’s because you’re not in your stance anymore,” Numa murmured, pushing on her shoulder. As if on command, the Avatar fell backwards. The golden girl quickly caught her arm and pulled her back up. Tsering’s eyes widened as she looked into Numa’s, their faces hardly inches apart.

“A true Earthbending stance is unbreakable.”

Tsering’s heart was suddenly racing at ostrich-horse speed. How could her friend be talking about staying grounded when everything about the Earthbender made her feel lighter than air?

“Let me try again,” Tsering replied, her voice quivering. She sank back into the wide stance she had seen Numa in before the Earthbender took flight with her nunchaku, trying to make sense of how that was possible. Oma's daughter guided her, adjusting her elbows, pressing lightly on her shoulders. She felt every inch of the Earthbender’s soft, gently-calloused skin on hers.

“You said before that you heard the swamp calling to you, so listen to it,” Numa said. “Listen to the earth. Feel it all around you.”

Tsering squeezed her eyes shut, her face and ears burning. The three of them had grown so close that even with her eyes closed, she could practically see Xiuying looking at the two of them with a smirk and one eyebrow raised. She could sense the air and water all around, could feel a tangible connection to both elements. Instead, like in meditation, she blocked out the fluid energy surrounding her, and focused intently on the solid energy beneath her feet. Grounded. Unbreakable. Tsering thought about the parts of her that were of the earth – they were few, but certainly there. She was persistent, and brave. Now, more than ever, it felt, Tsering had bonds to this earth that she cared about, and she would resist the negative jing in her nature all day to keep them close. She may have been born a leaf in the wind, but she was certainly unbreakable. She was present, connected. Tsering opened her eyes. Feeling Numa’s grounding hands on her shoulders, she lifted her fist.

Chapter Text

“Leaping lion turtles,” Xiuying breathed, staring at the chunk of earth that levitated in front of the Avatar.

Tsering gazed with equal disbelief at the stone she controlled. This moment reminded her of her first few times Waterbending. After only bending air for her entire life, she recalled feeling that the water was dense, heavy, even, compared to her native element. Now, she felt foolish to have thought so with the earth in her grasp. It felt completely different from air and water; it was stable, compact. The stone had been waiting patiently for her, a clear representation of the neutral jing that was innate to Earthbenders. Without her touch, it would not have moved at all. If she let it go, it would fall to the ground.

“You can Earthbend.” Numa’s voice was scarcely a whisper behind her.

“I can Earthbend,” Tsering echoed, slowly lowering the stone back to the ground and turning around to face Numa. “You taught me to Earthbend.”

The two young women stared at each other, eyes flashing, neither knowing quite what to say. Xiuying finally broke the silence.

“My turn! Let’s bend some fire, Avatar!” she exclaimed, rising to her feet excitedly. Tsering laughed.

“I think I should probably master water first,” she chuckled, a hand on the back of her neck. “You know, so I don’t burn anything to the ground? But… I know how to Earthbend now. That’s pretty cool.”

“Pretty cool?! It’s amazing!” Xiuying exclaimed as she embraced Tsering and Numa in a group hug. Even Pingdeng joined in, lowing as he pushed his forehead into Tsering’s back. I’m so proud of you, she thought he might say.

Suddenly, the undergrowth behind them rustled loudly. The three girls whipped around, the spell broken. However, the rustling quickly ceased. It couldn’t be a cat-gator; they preferred an approach by water. Whatever had made the noise was too big to be a squirrel-frog, too quiet to be a screeching dodo, too quick to be a possum-chicken. It must have been…

“Who’s there?” Xiuying yelled, a snarl in her voice. When there was no reply, her palms ignited. “Show yourself!”

Two streams of water abruptly shot out of the bushes, aiming directly at Xiuying. Before the group had time to react, the water splashed over Xiuying’s hands, dousing her fire. All three of them started at the hissing sound of water snuffing out fire. To Tsering, the act felt disrespectful at its core. Numa sank into her Earthbending stance instinctively, and the Avatar grabbed her glider-stick.

“Wait,” a voice nearly as deep as Numa’s called. “I ain’t gonna hurt y’all! Just relax, okay?”

Out of the plants rose a lanky young man with his hands raised up. On his head was a big leaf fashioned into a hat, and aside from that, he wore nothing but a green loin cloth. He had thin bands around his upper arms and water-stained bandages on his forearms and legs. He was slender, his light brown skin rippling with lean muscles, and quite tall; the water he waded in did not quite reach his knees.

“Who are you?” Xiuying demanded, irritably wiping her hands on her shirt.

“I should be askin’ you the same thing,” the young man replied. His accent had a drawl similar to Yao’s, but thicker and with less of a sharp twang. “Y’all clearly aren’t from around here.”

“Is anyone? We’ve been here for months, and haven’t seen another human being since we arrived,” Numa said.

“You must be jokin’,” he insisted. “We’ve sure been seein’ yous!”

“We?” Tsering asked.

“Welcome to the Village,” the young man said grandly as the group pushed through thick tangles of swamp plants into a wide clearing.

He opened his long arms to reveal a cluster of huts elevated above the mud on wooden supports. The homes were crude, with the tree bark still showing on many of their scaffolds, but charming in their own rugged way. In the center of the structures, a large fire crackled, with several cooking spits and drying racks around it. Tsering could hear fragments of a gruff-sounding language she didn’t understand mixed in with her own native language. People wearing the same hats and loin cloths as their young guide crouched around the fire, carried supplies this way and that, looked up to study the newcomers. The humidity that constantly bore down on Tsering didn’t appear to affect them at all. Regardless of their physical appearance, the people indiscriminately wore as little clothing as possible. With a glance at her friends, Tsering snickered; both Numa and Xiuying looked astonished to see males and females alike with neither pants nor tunics.

“The name’s Sho, by the way,” the young man said. “And this is my tribe.”

“The… Foggy Swamp Tribe?” Xiuying asked.

“That’s right!” Sho exclaimed. “How’d you guess?”

There was a pause as the group inspected their surroundings. Torches burned around the village, but without the sunlight streaming through the trees above, Tsering guessed it would be rather dark. These people had certainly chosen an interesting place to call home.

“I’m Tsering,” she said. “Are you and your people Waterbenders?” she asked politely, recalling how he’d extinguished Xiuying’s fire before.

“’Course we are,” Sho replied. “Our lion turtle village was in the South Pole, a chilly little place, from what I’ve been told. Once it was time to leave, we headed north, lookin’ for warmer waters, and when we found this place, we felt right at home. But when I say ‘we,’ I mean my grandparents,” he chuckled. “I was born and raised right here in the swamp, and I ain't never left.” The young man seemed proud to say so.

A group of small children ran by, whooping and splashing in the mud. A man sitting outside one of the huts stroked what appeared to be a cat-gator resting in his lap, swinging his legs as he sang an off-key tune about catching fish. Near the fire in the center of the clearing, a lean old woman and her partner speared several giant insects to roast over the blaze – horrified, Tsering quickly looked away. At one end of the clearing was a cluster of small boats tied to a thin tree. Half their wooden bodies were hidden behind the wall of foliage lining the village clearing, but she could see from the way they bobbed subtly up and down that they were floating in water. At the opposite end of the village, up to their necks, several people unwound in a pool of water dug deep into the ground. One person crouching at the edge of the pool held their hands over the water. Gradually, it began to steam, bubbles of heat rising to the surface. They then jumped in, giving a loud, relaxed sigh. Tsering was deeply fascinated.

“Did that person just… boil that water?” Numa echoed her thoughts.

“Aw, yeah,” Sho answered. “Our kin who stayed in the south are good at freezin’ water, but we’re better at boilin’ it. Helps get the swamp gunk out,” he elaborated. “We call that spot the hot tub,” he said with a yearning sigh, like he wanted to jump into the scalding bath with his peers.

Tsering couldn’t believe it. All she had ever learned about Waterbenders was that they exclusively lived in colder parts of the world, and they could only alter the temperature of their element to make it colder. She had only known of the Foggy Swamp Tribe for a few minutes, but they had already changed everything she thought she knew about Waterbending. She wondered what she could learn from Sho and his tribe about their native element. She wondered what she could learn from them about the swamp itself.

“So, you know the swamp well, then?” Tsering asked, turning back to Sho.

“Well enough, I reckon,” the boy replied, scratching his chin. He had the same thin stubble sprouting along his jawline that Lobsang had when she had last seen him.

“Maybe you and your tribe can help us,” she replied hopefully. “We came here to look for someone from my village who might be lost in the swamp.”

“Do you have a tribal leader we might speak with?” Numa asked. Sho burst out laughing at the formal question, a ragged spasm that bent his frame forward. He slapped his knee, wiping a tear from his eye.

“Naw,” he finally wheezed. “We ain’t got a leader. But let’s ask my friend Lo; she’s pretty in synch with the happenings around these parts,” he said, gesturing for them to follow him towards the huts. Tsering, Xiuying, and Numa shared a look. What had they just gotten mixed up in?

Sho led the group to the largest hut. Up close, it appeared to have been expertly woven from reeds and other swamp grasses and sealed with mud. It was raised several feet into the air, its wooden braces sunk deep into the dirt. As they climbed the crooked stairs up to a precarious-looking porch, Tsering looked back to where Pingdeng waited in the corner of the village that they had entered through. Several tribespeople had begun to gather around him, ogling curiously.

Instead of entering the hut, Sho leapt onto the side of it, clambering quickly to the top and disappearing.

“I’m out,” Xiuying huffed. “This guy’s clearly a little loose in the leaf hat, and my clothes are filthy enough already.”

“I’m worried I’ll destroy the thing if I even try,” Numa chimed in. The structure looked particularly flimsy next to her well-built frame.

Tsering shrugged.

“Be right back,” she said lightheartedly, blasting herself onto the roof with Airbending. It was shaping up to be a very interesting day, indeed.

Chapter Text

Sho crouched on the roof of the hut across from a young woman who seemed about his age. An open eye had been painted in mud across her bare chest. The girl had an incredibly powerful aura, one that felt to Tsering quite unlike those of the other tribespeople. In fact, everything about her seemed different. Whereas the villagers that Tsering had seen so far all preferred to crouch down to the ground, the older girl before her sat in a nearly perfect lotus position. Her eyes were closed, and a massive cat-gator rested with its body curled protectively around her crossed legs. Curiously, its scales were unique from the others Tseing had seen in the swamp; each one was edged in a shimmering silver hue. When the creature opened its eyes, she was shocked to see that it was completely blind, its pupils clouded with the same silver color as its unusual scales. Nevertheless, it seemed to gaze right at her. A low, quiet growl emanated from its throat, as if to say, I don’t know you, so don’t come too close. Tsering nodded in understanding, sitting behind Sho on his other side; better to be closer to the cat-gator’s tail than its jaws.

Tsering knew nothing of Foggy Swamp Tribe culture. She wasn’t sure if she should speak, if she was even allowed to speak. Sho continued to watch his friend in silence, and the girl remained engaged in, well, what appeared to be a meditation. Tsering tried not to be impatient; after all, this was someone who could potentially help her and her companions finally complete this quest – and who knew, what if this was some kind of ritual that it would be detrimental to interrupt?

Minutes crawled by, sunlight slowly flickering behind passing clouds, and eventually, the Avatar decided to meditate as well. Tsering closed her eyes and cleared her mind. She found herself traveling along the canal of her memories back to her home village, to the pagoda where she used to meditate with Sister Miksha and the other abbots. She could feel the thin, pure wind of the Eastern mountains, could see the sunsets painting the temples and huts scarlet, could smell the incense and the sweet rice and the persimmons that she loved so much. As much as this adventure had changed her life, Tsering missed home. She missed being among other Airbenders, missed her cozy bedroll lined with naturally-shed bison fur, even missed the wooden panel obstacle course. It was comforting to remember that waiting for her at the end of this journey was easy access to delicious vegetarian food, countless Pai Sho games, and hours upon hours of storytelling with Yu. This time, she had dozens of her own tales to share with her dear friend. She couldn’t wait to bask in the splendor of his inimitable energy again.

When Tsering opened her eyes, Sho’s friend was looking at her with pupils as cloudy and blind as her cat-gator’s. Her heart skipped a beat. She opened her mouth, closed it again.

“Lo, this here is Tsering,” Sho slowly murmured.

His voice had taken on a completely different tone from the one he had spoken in before. It resembled that which Miksha often used with Tsering, and it warmed her heart; she could guess that these two were very close.

“Yes,” Lo replied. “I heard you introduce yourself earlier.”

Her accent was not as thick as the others Tsering had heard around the village. In fact, her voice had a cosmic, otherworldly quality to it. Tsering was bewildered. If Lo had heard her speaking from across the village, over the singing, laughing, and conversation of her fellow tribespeople, plus the endless layers of swamp noises, her hearing must be incredible. The way Lo’s head angled so that her unseeing eyes were aimed directly at Tsering reminded her of the way Oma had detected and announced Numa’s presence without having turned around to see her. All the young woman’s senses must be incredible.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Lo,” she said, bowing forward deeply from her lotus position, her palms against the roof of the hut. It had been quite a while since she had exercised Air Nomad formalities. It had been quite a while since she had interacted with another human besides Xiuying and Numa, after all.

“Mmm. No need for all that,” the girl replied, flicking her wrist dismissively. “It is like bowing to a tree, or a fish, or a rock.”

The girl with the painted eye spoke with simple, emotionless honesty. Tsering nodded, straightening up again. Lo then turned to Sho, and the two began to converse in the same throaty language that she had heard before. The young man changed his position so that he lounged comfortably on his side, propping himself up on his right elbow. With his left hand, he reached over and scratched the silvery cat-gator’s chin as they spoke. Tsering wasn’t sure what they were saying, but felt consoled by her acquaintance’s laid-back attitude. The young man laughed at something that Lo said.

“’Course I’ll come with y’all!” he exclaimed.

“Eh, sorry… are we going somewhere?” Tsering asked, glancing around in concern. The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows through the trees. Usually, her and her friends were seeking out somewhere safe to spend the night around this time.

“Tomorrow, we will go to the banyon-grove tree,” Lo responded. “And you will learn.”

With that, Sho rose to his feet, gave a friendly little wave, and hopped down from the roof of the hut. Tsering followed him, her mind reeling. When she landed back down on the wooden platform, the boy had disappeared again. Numa and Xiuying fixed her with inquisitive looks, but Tsering looked around for Sho instead. She saw him hop into the empty hot tub and heave a satisfied sigh as bubbles of heat began to rise to the surface. She gestured for her friends to follow her as she headed towards him.

“Sho, ca–”

Tsering was silenced by the Waterbender’s palm in her face.

“When you’re in the hot tub, no talkin’ to folks outside the hot tub,” he said simply. “That’s just how things work around these parts.”

Xiuying rolled her eyes and began to strip off her outer robes.

“Both of you will definitely get your skin boiled off if you go in there,” she said to Tsering and Numa, unvealing her toned curves with confidence. Tsering gave her a look of silent encouragement, whether she needed it or not; after all, everyone around them was showing more skin than Xiuying was, but no one else had ember-colored scars marbling their entire body.

“Please ask him what Lo said when they were speaking their tribal language,” Tsering requested as her Firebending friend slipped into the scorching water.

“Aw, she said she can tell Tsering’s got some strong energy abouts her. And then she said we’ve better get her to the banyon-grove tree, ‘cause then she can help y’all find your missin’ friend,” Sho sighed once Xiuying had repeated Tsering’s question, his eyes closed and his head laid back.

“Did she say how going to one tree is going to make any difference?” Xiuying asked incredulously. Sho snorted.

“’Course it’ll make a difference,” he replied, waving his hand. “You’ll see.”

After the sun set, the three girls sat around the fire with the rest of the tribe. Tsering wasn’t sure if giant insects were considered meat or not, but politely refused what she was offered anyway, doing her best not to gag while watching Xiuying and Numa crunch awkwardly into exoskeletons.

“It’s honestly not as gross as it looks,” Xiuying whispered to her, but the Firebender’s breath suggested otherwise.

So, Tsering borrowed a pot from Sho to cook rice – she was grateful they had rationed the grain so well. For most of the Foggy Swamp Tribe, it was their first time seeing the food. She shared it with whoever wanted to try some, amused at the tribespeople that regarded the foreign cuisine with as much distaste as she’d regarded theirs. The Avatar and her friends shared pleasantries with the members of the tribe who could speak their native tongue, and even attempted with those who couldn’t. The conversation revolved mostly around the swamp, what their favorite part about the swamp was, whether they had seen this cool flower or that deadly insect or a specific boulder with vines wrapped around it in a way that looked like a possum-chicken. Eventually, they were asked where they came from, and what they were doing in the swamp.

“Wow,” a younger boy gasped. “A floatin’ village. Aren’t you scared you’ll fall off?”

Tsering giggled. “No,” she replied. “And if we did, we have Airbending and flying bison to help us.”

There was a pause as the boy and his friends took this in, staring at each other with wide eyes. The children began to laugh. Tsering suppressed a shudder as bits of insect legs flew out of several of their little mouths.

“Flyin’ people! Flyin’ bisons! You must be jokin’!” they guffawed.

Tsering grinned, raising an eyebrow at them as she rose and strode over to where Pingdeng munched on some swamp grass. She lifted herself onto his neck and scratched affectionately behind his ear.

“Sorry to interrupt your dinner, buddy, but… yip yip!” she exclaimed, snapping the reins.

It had been a long time since they had flown together, and the feeling of Pingdeng’s massive body rising into the dense air nearly brought tears to her eyes. The two floated a few feet above the mud as the children lost their minds with excitement below. They abandoned their meal and clambored underneath Tsering and her bison, jumping up and down in an attempt to touch the beast’s soft belly. Tsering laughed and looked to her friends, who grinned up at her. That’s right, kids; that’s our friend, the one with the flying bison, the master Airbender, the Avatar.

The kids scurried out of the way, shouting in delight as the Avatar and her bison descended. They nearly bowled her over once her feet touched the ground, all shouting enthusiastic questions at the same time.

“Aw, come on, Thu, dinner’s gettin’ cold!” one of the kids’ mother called.

The children groaned, returning to where their creepy-crawly feast waited. As Tsering strolled back to her place between her companions, she glanced up at the hut where she had met Lo. She was astonished to see that the girl with the painted eye had not moved, and her palms were pressed together, a gesture that was traditionally of the Air Nomads. Lo’s eyebrows were furrowed, as if she were concentrating deeply. Tsering gasped as she watched an icy blue outline of the young woman’s body rise from her frame like steam and disappear above the tree line.

It felt strange, sleeping so close to the ground in the swamp. Several tribespeople, including Sho, had offered the guests their homes for the night, claiming that it was more fun to sleep in the mud anyway, but Tsering and her friends could not accept the generous offers. They opted to sleep side-by-side in Pingdeng’s saddle instead, although Tsering doubted she would sleep very much. She had the feeling that she was experiencing a sort of calm before a storm, but had no idea what kind of storm, exactly. Vague anxiety crawled up her spine as she stared upward at the dark plants looming overhead. For the first time since the trio had arrived, a distinct hush had fallen over the village, aside from Xiuying snoring softly. Despite the quiet, Tsering could hear the questions swimming through her mind as loudly as if someone were shouting them into her ear. What had happened to Lo during dinner? What was the banyon-grove tree, and what was she going to learn? Why had she had almost no spiritual experiences in the swamp, aside from the one small vision while Numa was Earthbending? What had Wan experienced when he came here? Where was Chomdem? Why was being the Avatar so confusing?

Tsering sat up, shook her head. Perhaps a walk would calm her spinning mind. She silently climbed down Pingdeng’s side and made her way for the village entrance.

“Can’t sleep either?” A deep, buttery voice quietly wafted after her.

“No,” Tsering sighed, turning to face Numa.

“Can I come with you?” the Earthbender asked. The Avatar nodded, and the two young women pushed through the reeds.

The swamp itself seemed to be sleeping, as well; the vines were not as tangled, the waterlogged path not as difficult to navigate. For a while, the pair walked in silence.

“There is so much going on,” Tsering finally said. “I have no idea if what I’m doing is right. I haven’t had a clue since I left my home village, and I used to be the one helping others find solutions to their problems. I don’t even know if Sister Chomdem is actually here in the swamp. I have no idea whether or not I’m being a good Avatar. Wan probably always knew exactly what to do, but I feel like I’m failing. The world is on fire, and we’ve been here for months.”

Numa nodded quietly. Tsering exhaled. It felt a little better to finally tell someone how she felt. She was glad it was Numa. Earthbenders were phenomenal listeners.

“I don’t think there is a right or wrong thing for you to do,” the older girl said after some time. “You’re acting on what you think is best, and that’s all that matters. Even if we come out of the swamp having found nothing, I wouldn’t call it a failure.”

Tsering wasn’t comforted. If they left the swamp without Chomdem, she didn’t know what she would do.

“I don’t think… I don’t think I could handle letting Sister Miksha down,” she said, her voice small.

Her confession hung in the quiet air as they walked on. Tsering didn’t realize that Numa had stopped until she heard the Earthbenders’s voice coming from behind her.

“When my mother introduces her daughter to people, no one ever expects to see… me,” Numa said. Tsering looked back at her. The burly young woman’s eyes were fixed on the ground.

“Folks love to craft their own boxes to put other people in, to seal and place a nice, easy label on, but… I don’t fit into any of their boxes. I don’t match any of their labels. You’re worried to let one person down, meanwhile I let down every single person who meets me. They hear the word daughter, and they expect to see a beautiful woman who dresses and walks and talks and acts like her mother, but instead, they see… me.”

Tsering understood the sentiment all too well. In her childhood, her parents had always reassured her that her differences were to be celebrated, that the patches of brightness on her dark skin were kisses from the moon spirit or stars that came to earth with her or fragments of light gifted by the sun itself. As she was transitioning into adolescence, though, her differences had made her miserable. Her parents left the village, and the constant comfort they had given her left with them; as the years passed, the relief of their support gradually faded. Tsering alone was no match for long-lingering glances, whispers behind her back, being excluded and othered by her peers… It was all unbearable. She swallowed her nerves, walked right up to Numa, and grasped her wrists.

“Numa, don’t ever take it out on yourself that others refuse to see past their own ideas of what you ‘should’ be. You don’t exist for them. Of course it hurts… spirits, it hurts so much, and you’re allowed to feel that way. But just know that you’re not letting anyone down by being different; it’s the people who can’t see past the surface who let you down. You’ll find those special people who see you for who you really are, who accept you and adore you, like Xiuying and I, and Sun, and your mother, and all your other friends in the city. We see you and we accept you. You are perfect just the way you are.”

She paused, trying to catch her breath.

“And I… I think you’re a beautiful woman.”

Tsering immediately felt the gravity of the brave words she’d finally released from her mind. It was as if the ground around her was sinking and swelling, waves of earth threatening to tear her from her stance. She was glad to be gripping Numa’s wrists; it was all that was keeping her stable. Just as she thought the feeling was subsiding, she looked up and locked eyes with the strong woman she was holding on to. Numa’s honeyed irises glistened in the moonlight, and the emotion churning inside them stole the Avatar’s very breath. Just as Tsering felt so dizzy that she thought she was going to fall over, Numa wrapped her arms tightly around her.

The waves ceased. The earth stopped spinning. In that moment, Tsering was only in Numa’s arms. She smelled of oil and spices, of herbs and grass. She could feel Numa’s heart beating fast, knew the young woman could feel her own rapid heartbeat as well.

After a moment that felt like hours, the Earthbender pulled away, still holding Tsering’s elbows in her hands. There were tears in her eyes. The Avatar’s knees felt so weak that she thought she might collapse.

“Thank you, Tsering,” Numa murmured. “And… I hope you’ll heed your own advice.”

Tsering thought about everything she had just said to Numa – at least, everything she could remember. She was right. There was no right or wrong way to be the Avatar. After all, the Avatar may be part spirit, but they were still part human, and one of the most intrinsic parts to being human was not knowing everything. Sometimes, being human had to mean abandoning wisdom and taking a chance. Her mind wandered back to the girl with the painted eye. Tsering realized that even though she didn’t know what might happen tomorrow, with her friends by her side, she was more than willing to take that chance.

Chapter Text

Dense moisture weighed down incessantly on the Avatar’s shoulders. It was exceptionally humid in the swamp today.

In the Eastern mountains, where the hot seasons were dry and not nearly as sweltering, and the cold seasons were often unforgivingly frigid, the Breath of Equilibrium was mainly used for warmth. However, over the course of her time in the swamp, Tsering had honed her ability to use the technique to cool herself down as well. Nevertheless, no matter how intensely she focused on self-regulation through breath, sweat beaded on her forehead and trickled down her back. Tsering had a strange feeling, and not because of the day-old rice she had eaten. She tried to push past it, to steady herself despite the overwhelming influence of the swamp’s energy. She tried to keep up with her companions and their blind guide, who was somehow traversing the maze-like undergrowth with more ease than any of them. Still, something was sending tremors up her spine, raising the damp hairs on the back of her neck. Pingdeng huffed nervously from his low position in the air beside them. Tsering turned to look at him. Can you feel that too? she silently asked the hovering bison. Her head spun. The ever-present cacophony of swamp noises grew louder in her ears, like a warning siren.

Tsering tripped over a thick tree root sticking out of the shallows and caught herself on some vines. Her nails scraped painfully against stone. With a wincing glance sideways, she paused. She’d been saved by the very boulder that someone had described last night. Tsering stared in amazement at the huge rock wrapped in swamp plants. Huh. The vines really do look like a possum-chicken, she thought as she pushed herself upright with the help of her glider-stick, smiling despite her near face-plant.

When Tsering turned back, she discovered that her companions had disappeared ahead of her. Uh oh.

She rushed forward and stepped without warning into… well, nothing. The ground had opened abruptly into a chasm of swirling green and brown, swamp water draining down into the churning abyss. The open earth swallowed her as she fell before she even had time to scream for help, with only a concerned bellow from Pingdeng somewhere around her as a sign that this was truly happening. Tread lightly, Wan’s voice whispered in her ears as she fell into darkness.

Eventually, she felt more earth approaching fast. Tsering frantically flung a protective cushion of air around herself and whipped her glider-stick into a propellor just before she hit the wet ground hard.

Panting, Tsering fell to her knees in the shallow water. Light fizzled in her vision. She blinked, looked around, tried to get her bearings, to calm her breathing. Her surroundings were basically the same as they had been for months, except for the fact that her companions and the possum-chicken boulder were nowhere in sight. Walls of indistinct plants surrounded her on all sides.

What just happened? she thought, completely flabbergasted. When she looked up, whatever hole that she had fallen through was gone, and the sky glowed through the vaulted treetops, which appeared as thick and lush as ever. Tsering’s anxiety blossomed as she imagined her friends turning around to find that she’d vanished, the heart of this entire operation gone without a trace. Chords of the same eerie energy from before snaked through the breeze, making her heart beat faster. Tsering resisted the urge to panic. I just have to get up and find my way back to everyone, she told herself.

Standing back up was, for some reason, a great chore. It was as if the heaviness in the air had infiltrated her blood. Tsering, a child of the mountain winds, had never felt a weight like this in her life. It was as if she was fighting something both inside and outside herself at the same time.

When she finally pushed herself to her feet, she looked forward and gasped. Standing several feet away in a beam of sunlight with her back turned to Tsering was none other than Chomdem. The old woman was laughing, gentle hiccupping giggles that floated delicately through the air. Tsering’s chest lurched as she tried to run towards the abbot.

“Sister Chomdem!” she called desperately, tripping over herself, but the old woman did not turn around. It felt like she was moving in slow motion, her limbs dragging, but eventually, she reached the abbot.

Her hand touched Chomdem’s shoulder, and as she tried to look into the air master’s face, she realized that she was staring at nothing more than a dead tree. Its old, decaying bark chipped and flaked off at her touch. Tsering gasped, quickly pulling her hand from the branch of the graying trunk in shock. The swamp had given her a vision, alright, and it was nothing more than a cruel trick. She succumbed to the pressure of the air around her, slowly sinking back to her knees as tears began to well up and spill forward. Was this a sign from the swamp to give up? Was Chomdem even here? Was she even alive? Was all of this for nothing?

“Are you okay?” a tiny voice filtered through her sobs.

Tsering looked over at a small, green creature with six limbs and leaves for ears that looked at her with friendly, beady eyes. She blinked. It was the spirit from Sun’s painting. The energy it emitted was immensely gentle and kind. When it touched her arm with its tiny, fingerless hand, it was like pressing ice to a throbbing bruise. More tears began to flow uncontrollably from Tsering’s eyes.

“I’m okay,” she whispered, her voice shaking.

“I know you!” the tree spirit exclaimed. “You’re the Avatar!” Its voice was full of wonder, sweet and innocent as a child’s. Tsering smiled. The tears that trickled into her mouth were almost sweet. She had never talked to a spirit before, at least, not one that hadn’t been her in a previous life.

“I am,” she replied. “I’m Tsering.”

“I know,” it said. “You and Raava used to be Wan, but now you and Raava are you.” Tsering nodded. It was certainly an interesting way of looking at her existence.

“That’s right,” she answered.

Tsering found it hard to imagine that humans and spirits were, only several generations ago, at war with one another. The spirit before her seemed completely harmless, friendly even, nothing like the shadowy images that Tsering’s mind had conjured when Wan had told her of rogue spirits. If it was one that Wan had described as having the power to travel freely between this world and the Spirit World, it must have the power to assist her.

“I came here looking for someone who is lost, but now I’m lost, too. Can you please help me?”

The spirit made a face.

“But you’re not lost,” it replied. “You know where to go.”

And with that, it turned and took a few steps away before it vanished.

“Wait!” Tsering shouted after the spirit, reaching forward towards the wall of plants.

As if in response to her, the trees parted unexpectedly before her fingertips. Tsering gasped. A river revealed itself, flowing right through the vegetation. The pristine water glowed in the sunlight that flooded through the new gap in the foliage. Tsering’s eyes widened. She was looking at the exact same scene that Sun had painted in their shop.

So, the landscape had been changing this whole time. But how? Was it the work of spirits, or was it the land itself? Tsering wondered if the swamp was a rift in this world, a tear in the fabric that separated the physical realm from the spiritual. She looked back to the dead tree that she had thought was Chomdem, but it was gone. Only a dip in the mud hinted that it had really been there. She found she somehow felt lighter in its absence. Now, it was much easier to stand, and she found the spirit was right: she knew exactly where to go.

Tsering followed the river. She walked on in the direction that it flowed, pure and clear, her heart pounding reassuringly in her chest. It felt like there were other beings walking alongside her, ushering her onward, but when she looked around, she couldn’t see anyone.

Eventually, she came to a clearing in the woods. The tree spirit’s river emptied into a stunning, irridescent pond lined with mushrooms and flowers of all colors. Just when she thought the scene couldn’t get more ethereal, she looked up. Sloping majestically upward in front of her and the pond was a single root belonging to the largest tree that Tsering had ever seen in her life. The tree itself was larger than the entire city of Omashu when her and Xiuying had stood before it. Thousands of roots coming from all directions united into a gigantic trunk that then spread out into a spellbinding array of branches reaching across the sky. Vines dripped from the branches like jeweled offerings from the spirits themselves. Tsering’s mouth hung open as she stared in total awe at what absolutely had to be the banyon-grove tree.

Just then, the bushes on the other side of the pond rustled, and out of them stepped Lo, Sho, Xiuying, Numa, and Pingdeng.

“I knew she would be here,” Lo was saying, but Xiuying, Numa, and Pingdeng all exclaimed over her as they rushed to embrace Tsering.

“Bleeding hog-monkeys, Tsering, where did you go?!” Xiuying yelled.

“Spirits, we were so worried; you just… disappeared,” Numa said at the same time.

Tsering hugged her companions, rubbing Pingdeng’s nose as he grumbled in concern.

“You know how I mentioned that Wan told me the Avatar might have some… unique experiences in the swamp?” she laughed weakly.

“Are you alright?” Numa asked worriedly.

“Wait, the Avatar?” Sho interjected. “I thought Wan was, y’know, in the dirt,” he said, gesturing unceremoniously to the ground behind him with his thumb.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Sho,” Lo said, lightly smacking his shoulder, the only display of what was probably affection Tsering had seen from her so far. “She’s obviously the new Avatar.”

“Obviously?!” he cried, holding his hands out in exasperation. “Far as I’m concerned, there ain’t no new Avatar! That’s just crazy talk!”

Xiuying and Numa rolled their eyes. Tsering ignored Sho’s denial of her identity, however understandable it was; she had greater concerns at the moment than proving herself to him. She approached Lo instead. The silver cat-gator hissed and stilled as its master held out her hand.

“How did you know I would be here?” she asked. Lo shrugged.

“Because I could see you,” she said simply. “Now let’s go,” she ordered, not bothering to give the Avatar and her friends any extra time to process or ask the multitude of questions filling their heads.

The blind girl and her confused friend turned toward the pond and cupped their hands to gather some of its luminescent water. If Lo was a Waterbender like Sho, she didn’t display it; neither of Foggy Swamp Tribe members bent the water from the pond, and Tsering could sense that this was on purpose. First, the two of them rinsed each of their feet with the shimmering liquid, then each of their hands. Tsering instinctively followed suit, removing her shoes and washing each of her extremities, with Xiuying and Numa not far behind. Once they had finished the impromptu ritual, Lo turned towards the tree. Xiuying and Numa gasped, having not even noticed the massive being in their excitement to be reunited with Tsering. They were quickly hushed with a blistering glare from Lo – clouded as her eyes were, they still held a blazing soul behind their veil.

The girl with the painted eye climbed up onto the massive root of the tree, gesturing for the rest to follow. Tsering hesitated, suddenly nervous. On one side, Numa squeezed her hand reassuringly. On the other, Xiuying slung her arm around her shoulders. From behind her, Pingdeng nuzzled her back with his forehead.

The Avatar smiled at her friends. She had no idea how she’d gotten so lucky. She stepped towards the towering tree and climbed up onto its root. She felt compelled to bow in the formal way of her people, lowering herself so her forehead touched the smooth bark.

Tsering let herself fall into a meditative state as she walked along the mountainous root of the tree. Pingdeng began to fly beside her as her group rose above the tree line. The breeze that caressed them was light and dry, a relief from the sinking weight of the air below the foliage. They hiked in silence until they reached the base of the tree, where Lo turned and sank into her version of the lotus position. She waited until everyone was seated around her to speak.

“This is the sacred banyon-grove tree,” Lo said. “It is the mother of this entire swamp. Every living organism here is connected to this tree. Its roots spread out endlessly and give life to us all. All members of our tribe make the pilgrimmage here to reach spiritual enlightenment at some point in our lives, to solidify our connection with the tree and with the swamp itself. All members of our tribe, and one other: Avatar Wan,” she added.

“Avatar Wan came here? Why?” Tsering asked. She had wondered why the hike felt so familiar. No wonder the tree spirit had told her she already knew the way.

“Yes,” Lo said. “In his travels, he felt called to the swamp. When he came to my grandmother, our former village shaman, his spirit was clouded,” she sighed, “because he had fallen in love, and was becoming distracted from his duties as the Avatar. He reached spiritual enlightenment right where we sit now. I believe that in learning we are all connected, and at the core, no two beings are any different from one another, he was able to release himself from the grip of infatuation and focus solely on bringing balance to the world.”

“So, Avatar Wan never had a love of his own?” Xiuying asked.

“No,” Lo replied, shaking her head. “He sacrificed his chance at love for the sake of world peace.”

And yet the world is still full of violence and chaos, Tsering thought sadly. Wan’s reaction to hearing Chomdem’s name made complete sense now. If you find her… tell her I’m sorry. His words tugged agonizingly at her heart. Her past life had lived a life of suffering and sacrifice, and yet, even after his death, he still felt the need to apologize for it.

She glanced at Numa. She refused to give up on her own chance to have love. She refused to let her every day be consumed by agony and heartbreak.

“How can this tree help me find Sister Chomdem?” Tsering asked, a new determination in her voice.

She was not here to make her own life a repetition of Wan’s. She was not here to reach spiritual enlightenment – she already had during her training to become an Airbending master, after all – nor to give up on her own happiness. She was here to bring one of her people home.

“As I said before, all living things are connected,” the girl with the painted eye began. “The five of us, this tree, the cat-gators and squirrel-frogs and thorny fern-grasses… All humans and animals and plants… We are all, in a way, the same. We are all living together, breathing together. We are all extensions of one planet, one soul, one heartbeat.

“It is said that the banyon-grove tree tree is both organic and spiritual matter, and inside this tree beats the heart of the world. Through its roots, which are believed to spread not just across the swamp, but all around the world, you can sense the connection between us all. It is how I can see, and how you can see, too, if you surrender yourself to the simplicity of the earth.”

Lo’s words reverberated in Tsering’s skull. All at once, she became aware of the same thrumming energy that she had felt when they had first flown over the swamp. From the beginning, this tree had been calling her, drawing her into its divinity. It must have sent its vines to pull them into its swamp in the first place. All along, it had been pushing and pulling her onward.

Her experience alone with the dead tree had not just been a vision, she realized, but a message. All this time, she had been searching for Chomdem as a person separate from herself, the key to completing her goal, but her endeavor was about more than simply finding what was missing. Chomdem was not simply gone; Tsering was still connected to her. The Avatar was bringing balance back to a lacking collective, venturing outside her home to restore the full connection of her people to each other, and in turn, to the rest of the world. All together, as one united village, they could figure out how to help the Avatar bring balance to the physical and spiritual realms.

Tsering closed her eyes and pressed her palms to the banyon-grove tree.

Look inside yourself, Avatar, Hono’s voice creaked in her mind.

Listen to the earth, Numa’s words filled her ears. Feel it all around you.

Gradually, she began to sense the roots of the banyon-grove tree behind her closed eyelids. Tsering conjured Chomdem as she had been in Wan’s memories, her sweet smile, her delicate, joyous laughter. As she had done with Hono, she searched for the connection, the abbot’s energy inside herself – and, if what Lo had said about everything being connected was true, inside the swamp. Chomdem’s energy glowed a soft yellow under her palms, and then it shot out like lightning, crackling away from the tree as if the massive plant were a raincloud. Tsering saw as Lo did, following the energy across the roots and vines, across the swamp, until she came to Chomdem herself. It was not just a vision; she could see her, clear as day, curled up against the trunk of a tree. Her robes were filthy and torn, and her shoulders moved up and down, as if she was crying. Don’t worry, she thought as loudly as she could, as if she could somehow get Chomdem to hear her. We’re coming to get you.

“I found her,” she gasped as her eyes snapped open. “She’s here, in the swamp. I know exactly where she is.”

Her friends shouted in enthusiasm, but she found she couldn’t hear what they were saying; their voices were muted in her ears. Her excitement was abruptly overshadowed by a pang of deep anxiety. Tsering felt the same sensation that she had felt during her master ceremony, an urgent force rising from within her. Oh no… she thought. With her palms still planted on the root of the banyon-grove tree, Tsering felt her vision overtaken by a blinding whiteness. She could hear her companions’ shouts in the distance as their tones changed from joy to alarm. Her own body felt distant, and she realized that it was; like what she had witnessed last night with Lo, her own icy blue spirit had left her body. It was as if finally connecting with the banyon-grove tree had opened whatever door was barring Tsering from fully accessing the swamp’s spirituality. The world she knew seemed lifetimes away, like she was inside a dream. Everything became completely engulfed in white.

Tsering blinked hard. When she opened her eyes again, floating before her was the spirit in the vision she had seen when Numa was Earthbending with her nunchaku, in its full size and magnificence. The splendor of the spirit’s presence was like nothing she had ever experienced before, ancient power and light incarnate, a scintillating entity that she knew was an intrinsic piece of her own being.

“Raava,” she breathed.

“Yes, Tsering,” the otherworldly being sang. “We meet, at last.”

Raava’s mellifluous voice washed over Tsering as if her soul were adrift in the Eastern Sea. It was the deepest sensation of happiness and despair that the Avatar had ever felt in her life, all at once. Supreme feelings welled up inside her, swelling waves of pure light that suppressed her voice. It reminded her of when she spoke to Wan on Saang Island, her words muffled outside of her own accord.

“I am sorry that I do not speak to you under better circumstances,” the spirit went on, “but you must return to the Eastern mountains.”

Raava touched Tsering’s forehead with one of her wisps, and the Avatar saw a vision of Yu’s face. Her heart thumped with joy to finally see her dearest friend again, after so long… then her stomach dropped when, without warning, fire began to blaze all around him. She gasped as the lion turtle’s face was engulfed in flames, and the vision faded.

“No,” she breathed.

“I know how you have longed to speak with me,” Raava said, “but there is no time to answer your questions now. Go, and bring balance to your home.”

Before Tsering could even speak, she could feel the physical realm approaching fast, the wraith of her spirit drawing near the flesh of her body.

“Raava! Wait!” she managed to shout, but her vision was swallowed in white again, and then she was blinking her eyes open and nearly hurling herself off the root of the banyon-grove tree.

“Whoa! Tsering!” Xiuying yelled, grabbing her friend and pulling her back as Pingdeng roared from the air beside them.

“Are you alright?!” Numa asked, holding her palms out.

“Creepin’ cat-gators… wha…” Sho blubbered.

Tsering looked around frantically. Everyone but Lo looked completely baffled. It reminded her of her master anointment ceremony, when her eyes and tattoos had glowed for the first time in a brief pulse of light. This time, she was sure they had been illuminated the entire time that she was with Raava. It was no wonder everyone was so shocked. Too bad there was no time to let them process that, either.

“We need to go,” the Avatar cried. “We need to get Sister Chomdem and get out of the swamp as soon as possible.”

“Okay, okay, let’s just calm down… tell us what happen–”

“There isn’t time!” Tsering yelled, blasting herself onto Pingdeng’s neck. Positive and negative jing were both ablaze in her heart. She steered her bison around so her companions could climb into the saddle.

“Well, this day is turnin’ out a lot different than I thought,” Sho breathed, peering over the edge of the saddle in terror.

Tsering looked at Lo, who hadn’t moved. The girl gazed back at her, even though the Avatar was no longer connected to the tree, her source of sight.

“I will stay here with the banyon-grove tree,” she said simply. “Good luck, Avatar Tsering.”

“Thank you so much… for everything,” Tsering murmured, on the verge of tears. She meant it from the bottom of her heart. The girl with the painted eye had indeed changed her life. If she ever saw Lo again, she hoped she would have more time to fully express the impact she had made.

“Yip yip!” she shouted, snapping Pingdeng’s reins.

Chapter Text

Once, when Tsering was a little girl, she woke up screaming and thrashing in the middle of the night. In the nightmare that had ensnared her mind and body in its grip of terror, the entire village was brutally slaughtered in a fiery attack. In one horrific tragedy, the Eastern Airbenders: the abbots, the monks and nuns, all her young peers, and her parents, had been completely wiped out. All, except for her. Tsering, the lone survivor. A small, helpless child holding onto her clay turtle for dear life. Towards the end of the dream, she had stood, surrounded on all sides by lofty flames, by death, and screamed endlessly into the roaring blaze. The last Airbender.

That night, plus a few that followed, had been the reason for Tsering’s bedroll being moved to the very end of the row in the girls’ sleeping quarters. Occasionally, in her waking hours, she could still smell the stench of burning flesh, could still feel the turmoil from that nightmare. Now, with the wind lashing her face and Pingdeng flying as fast as possible, was one of those times.

“Tsering… are you alright?”

The Avatar felt like she barely heard Numa’s repeated question. Her heart galloped in her eardrums.

“I spoke with Raava,” she finally answered.

“No way,” Xiuying breathed.

Tsering nodded, her eyes watery. “She gave me a horrible, horrible vision. We have to get back to the Eastern mountains as soon as possible.”

“The Eastern mountains?! But that’s at least a few days’ trip away, even with Pingdeng,” Xiuying shouted over the wind.

Tsering clapped a hand over her mouth. She was afraid to speak, afraid of bringing her worst thoughts into existence. Air blasted the tears from her eyes.

“Tsering,” Numa murmured, leaning over the saddle and lightly touching her arm. Under normal circumstances, the contact would have sent her heart soaring. “It’s going to be alright.”

What if it’s not? she screamed back internally.

“Uhhh, maybe this ain’t a good time,” Sho began tentatively – Tsering had forgotten he was there – “but I ain’t never been to this part of the swamp before. In fact, when we’re youngin’s, we’re told to stay away.”

“I’m sorry, Sho.” Tsering hardly recognized her voice. “But this is where we’re going.”

The trees here were different. They were darker, colder, more twisted. Tsering understood the Waterbender’s discomfort. The energy coming from this part of the swamp was pungent. It felt familiar, somehow. As they hovered above the tree line, Tsering thought she heard fearful, indistinct murmurs in the back of her mind.

“None of you have to come with me,” she said gravely, turning to her companions. “But I’m going in. Sister Chomdem is in there… spirits, she may have been here for years.” Tsering squeezed her eyes shut, gritting her teeth against the strange scents rising from the trees, the tears that threatened to spill forward again. She felt Xiuying’s hand on her shoulder.

“When you first asked me if I wanted to join you, what did I say? I’m in, Tsering. I’m always in. I’m not letting you go anywhere alone, whether you like it or not,” the Firebender said with flickering eyes, a thread of warmth in her serious tone.

“Me too.” Numa’s voice was firm against the breeze.

“We’ll find her faster if we’re all lookin’,” Sho added, his nervous expression betraying his words.

Tsering touched her hand to Xiuying’s. Despite it all, their heartwarming loyalty to her was nearly enough to bring a smile to her face. Nearly.

“Thank you,” she sighed. “Let’s go.”

They left Pingdeng in the air – Tsering had subjected the poor beast to enough water-logged land to last a lifetime. Behind her, Sho shuddered. He had probably never been somewhere so cold, though it was still much warmer here than in the Eastern mountains during the cold seasons. Tsering swore she could catch voices on the breeze as it whispered through the dreary trees. Otherwise, there were no other sounds. That was perhaps the strangest part of the scene. In the rest of the swamp, the sounds of life all around constantly filled their ears. Here, the silence was deafening.

The air was thick, not just with moisture, but melancholy. She wondered what had happened here to cause this part of the swamp to be so daunting. Perhaps it was one of the rouge spirits; perhaps this was its home in the physical realm. Tsering’s lip quivered. While her and the rest of her people had gone about their daily lives, safe and oblivious in the Eastern mountains, Chomdem had been stuck in this otherworldly place. While Tsering had been training and meditating and becoming an Airbending master, the oldest of her village’s leaders had probably been fighting for her life.

“Everyone, stay close.” Tsering kept her voice low.

It would have been more effective to split up and search for Chomdem, but Tsering had picked up on an overwhelming aura. She was almost certain an unpleasant spirit lurked here. There was no way she was going to risk letting her companions out of her sight. Miksha’s voice resonated in her head. The world is not the safe haven that this place is.

Two years ago, if someone had told her she would be here right now, in the darkest, most forgotten corner of a massive swamp in the heart of a faraway land, she wouldn’t have believed them. If she hadn’t discovered she was the Avatar, after all, she would never have left the village in the first place. She would never have visited Tu Zin or Omashu or the swamp. She would never have met Xiuying or Sho or Numa. She would have a lot less scars than she had now, but a lot less memories, too. Her mind filled with what-ifs as the group pushed cautiously through the shadowy undergrowth.

“I can see why you’ve been told to steer clear of this place, Sho,” Xiuying muttered uneasily. “It’s a little too creepy, and for the swamp, that’s saying something.”

The boy with the leaf hat summoned an orb of liquid from the earth.

“Look’ee here,” he said in shock and disgust. “The water’s full o’ gunk. I reckon I can’t even boil it all out.”

The group glanced at the water floating at Sho’s command. It was a sickly green-brown color and smelled foul.

“Something’s definitely not right about this place,” Numa murmured, beads of sweat on her brow to contrast Sho’s shivering. “Why do you think Sister Chomdem would come here?”

“Sister Miksha said that her and the others hadn’t heard from her in three years. I doubt she came here on purpose,” Tsering replied, her voice the gathering of storm clouds.

The Avatar and her companions slowly pressed on. The quiet was awful. Xiuying was right; compared to the wicked energy of this place, the rest of the swamp was actually inviting.

“Flyin’ razorfish,” Sho exclaimed, rushing forward suddenly. He stooped over something wooden bobbing up and down in the muck. “One of our skiffs!”

Upon closer inspection, it was clear that the small boat had been completely abandoned. A single Foggy Swamp Tribe leaf hat was wilting inside, brown decay creeping along its edges. Tsering placed a hand on her newest friend’s back as his breathing grew labored. From the way he was reacting, she could assume what an empty skiff and a leaf hat left behind meant.

“I’m sorry, Sho,” she said softly. The boy did not answer. He put his hands to his face. With his sunny disposition up to this point, seeing him like this tightened the knot developing in Tsering’s stomach.

“We’ve got a bender of every element here, plus the Avatar,” Xiuying offered. “Whatever did this, I’m sure we can take it.”

Whether or not she was feigning confidence for the sake of the group’s morale, Tsering couldn’t tell; either way, she appreciated her Firebending friend’s unyielding spirit. Still, the idea of a fight brought turkey-duckbumps across her skin. Could they really “take” whatever had turned this entire section of the swamp into a nightmare world? Were they really willing to find out?

“We’d better find your friend quick and get on out of here,” Sho blubbered.

The breeze grew into a gale as they moved on. It buffeted them from all directions. Tsering tried to deflect the air currents, but the wind’s direction was simply changing too quickly. This is taking too much time, she thought, wishing she could control the flow of the air, then realizing that, in a way, she could. Tsering concentrated on seizing the air currents into her control as they flowed over her. She pushed outward, using the swirling momentum to form a perimeter around her and her friends. She raised her arms in the Flowing Wind stance as they walked, trying to create a calm center of the windstorm. Numa, Xiuying, and Sho looked around in awe as debris swirled in the wind flowing all around them. The Avatar was certainly a remarkable Airbender. It wasn’t every day that they got to see up close the mastery that Tsering had over her native element.

“Tsering, watch–”

Before Sho could finish his sentence, Tsering tripped over a deep mudhole, having lost her focus on the rest of the landscape. She shrieked, fearing the same free-falling event that happened near the banyon-grove tree. Numa caught her by the arm just before she hit the filthy water face-first.

“H-hello?” a fearful voice responded in the undergrowth ahead. “Wh-who’s there?”

Chapter Text

Tsering blinked. Was that voice real, or carried to her on a draft?

“We come in peace,” Numa called gently. Well, that answered her question.

“Sister… Chomdem?” Tsering asked, uncertain. After all, the last time she had thought she’d found the abbot, it was a strange vision in eerie circumstances. She was certain it had been Chomdem’s voice caling out, but it could have just as easily been the wind, or another hallucination, or… or a different person entirely.

But sure enough, from behind a gnarled, dying tree just ahead, a weathered face adorned in tattoos peeked out. Blue tattoos.

It was her.

“Ts… Tsering?” Chomdem called uneasily. “Is that truly you?”

Tsering was already sprinting towards her, oblivious to her bare feet catching on twisted brambles. She thought she knew now what the thorny fern-grasses were that Lo had mentioned before as sharp barbs licked and sliced at her ankles, but she didn’t care, didn’t care about having hastily left her shoes behind at the banyon-grove tree, didn’t care about the pain shooting through her feet and legs as a result.

The Avatar sank to her knees when she reached the tree Chomdem leaned against. The abbot’s cheeks were stained with tears and filth, and her robes were ragged. Most notably, her matted gray hair was immensely overgrown. In the village, Chomdem had kept her tresses cropped neatly at her shoulders and shaved on top alongside the other feminine-presenting Airbenders. Now, they had returned to her natural hairline and nearly reached down to her hips in length; only the swirls and single point of her head tattoo poked out of her tangled locks. Exhaustion hung its thick curtain over her gray eyes. Chomdem was much too old to be in a place like this. No matter; Tsering was here now. At last, she had reached the fourth head abbot of her village, the kind-hearted master who had been missing for years. The Avatar wasn’t leaving the swamp empty-handed after all. Her instincts had been right all along about this place. She grinned and wept as she threw her arms around Chomdem.

“Thank the spirits you’re alive!” she exclaimed. “Here you are. I found you.”

“I cannot believe it… Tsering, how you have grown! You have your tattoos,” the elderly woman observed in gentle admiration once Tsering pulled away and slowly helped her up, offering her closed glider-stick to lean on. Before long, the initial joy of seeing a familiar face was replaced with a remembrance of where they were. “Wha… what are you doing here? How did you find me?”

“Siblings Miksha, Norbu, and Aarav sent me to find you shortly after my master ceremony,” Tsering replied, trying and failing to dry her eyes. “We’ve been searching for you for ages. There were so many times when I wondered if I would ever find you, but I knew it… I knew you were here in the swamp.

“I couldn’t have found you alone. Here,” she said, helping Chomdem turn to face where her companions waited at a respectful distance. “These are my friends, Xiuying, Numa, and Sho.”

The Avatar paused, sniffling. Numa bowed her head. Xiuying waved cheerily, and Sho managed a weak smile, despite having just found out that the fate of a member of his tribe was uncertain. His eyes still glistened.

Her friends. They were so kind, so steadfast.

“They’ve sacrificed so much to help me reach you,” Tsering said. “And now we can finally get you h–”

Her shoulders hitched as the word was stolen from her mouth. She nearly choked on the empty air left behind, a ghost of a syllable snatched from her throat.

Home.

What was waiting for them at home?

Everyone looked at Tsering in her strangled silence, their eyebrows furrowing.

A series of daunting sounds suddenly echoed through the trees behind them. First came a sickening squelching noise, accompanied by sharp little scraping sounds that chilled Tsering down to the bone. The noise reminded her of when her nails had grated against a boulder earlier that same day, only amplified over an entire swath of swampland. Chomdem gasped, terror engulfing her face as she instinctively shrank in stature, whispering something indiscernable to herself. In the distance, the Avatar watched plants bend from the weight of something she couldn’t see. The source of the horrifying clamor was headed in their direction. All at once, the familiarity of the scene and its soundscape lurched its way to the forefront of Tsering’s mind: this was the place from her visions in front of Sun’s teahouse. Chomdem’s indistinct whispering, the awful rasping noise, all echoes of light and nature fading beyond the terrifying unknown.

“Uh, Tsering? We need to leave,” Xiuying said urgently.

“Pingdeng!” Numa bellowed through the treetops as they hustled in the opposite direction. She could be louder than any of them when she needed to be. “Pingdeng!”

Tsering bent a cushion of air around Chomdem to help her move faster, but they couldn’t possibly outpace whatever was coming for them at their current speed. The Avatar looked around wildly for her bison. There was no way she could fly everyone to safety with her tiny glider. She needed a better way to summon Pingdeng than her friend screaming at the top of her lungs. Perhaps if they survived today, she would fashion a bell for him. Better yet, a whistle.

“Over here!” Sho called, dragging the skiff he had found into a deeper section of water. “Everybody get in!”

The group piled onto the boat. The wood groaned and nearly sank below the surface with their combined weight. Tsering wondered how a little boat with no oars was going to carry them faster than their own legs. She looked back as an earsplitting roar tore through the shadows. Every hair on the back of her neck stood erect.

Sho stepped into the back of the skiff, but remained standing.

“Hold onto somethin’!” he yelled, bending his knees slightly and rooting his feet against the sides of the wooden frame in what almost looked like a bending stance.

The Waterbender began to move his arms in wide, swooping arcs on either side of his body. If this was a bending technique, Tsering couldn’t tell; for several seconds, absolutely nothing happened. It seemed Sho thought that performing some kind of wild possum-chicken dance inside of a boat would teleport them all to safety. The muscles in his upper limbs flexed from exertion as he threw them in seemingly random circles.

“What are you doing?! You’re going to get us all killed!” Xiuying screamed, outrage plastered across her face.

The Firebender rose to confront him, but was pulled back down by the force of the skiff suddenly rocketing forward. Sho continued to move his arms in erratic loops, and the overcrowded boat soared through the swamp water.

So, this was the bending style of the Foggy Swamp Tribe. Instead of the calm, flowing movements that Tsering had always thought to associate with traditional Waterbending, the people living here preferred wild, unpredictable methods, much like the environment they lived in. Sho’s face was as steady and firm with focus as she had ever seen it. He looked less like the carefree, gangly boy she had become acquainted with, and more like a young man completely in control of his element. The Foggy Swamp boy couldn’t have been more in synch with his home than he was right now, ferrying their entire group away from danger through sheer strength and skill.

Just then, Pingdeng crashed through the foliage, following alongside the skiff. He roared at them, his big, woodsy eyes full of concern. The bison didn’t dare to get too close to the ground. Tsering looked back. Despite how fast they flew across the water, she could see hideous, slimy green tendrils crawling towards them with outlandish speed, latching onto tree trunks and sweeping over the undergrowth. Pingdeng must have remembered the first day they came here, the image of being ensnared still fresh in his mind. But there was no way the tendrils could have been mere swamp vines. The energy that followed them was tangibly vile. A rogue spirit.

She locked eyes with Numa, who nodded. The two girls rose unsteadily to their feet and sank into an Earthbender’s stance.

“What are you doin’?!” Sho yelled, craning his neck around them to make sure he didn’t crash into a tree.

“When I say so, everybody jump!” Tsering shouted. Xiuying helped Chomdem to her feet, both of them nodding. “NOW!”

She and Numa punched their fists into the air as the group leapt up with all their might. The skiff slid away from them. A massive block of earth, powered by Numa’s muscle and directed by Tsering’s instinct, launched the entire group towards the Avatar’s bison. Pingdeng swooped over and caught them all in his saddle.

“Yip yip! Get us out of here, buddy!” Tsering yelled, crawling onto the bison’s neck and snapping the reins.

She sighed when the dark trees grew smaller and smaller as Pingdeng rose higher and higher into the air. They were safe. Streaks of scarlet were slowly filtering into the late afternoon clouds, and to Tsering, the open air in its current state was the most beautiful sight in the world. They were finally leaving the swamp, and with no time to spare; the tendrils had nearly reached them. Everyone was soaking wet and breathing hard, puddles of water pooling in the saddle. Tsering would take it over falling into the clutches of whatever had pursued them.

“Here, Xiuying. Take the reins,” Tsering said to her friend.

The Firebender’s eyes widened but sparkled as she nodded and switched places. The Avatar trusted her enough to give her temporary command over her bison. Fear of heights or not, Xiuying would take the thin rope in her scarred hands with her chin held high in honor.

Numa was already breaking out bandages for Chomdem. The old woman wasn’t just covered in swamp grime; blood had smeared across her skin from multiple old wounds that re-opened in their escape. Tsering did what she could to wash Chomdem’s exposed skin before finally acquiescing to the searing heat coming from her lower limbs, turning to pluck thorns out of her feet and ankles. She winced as each barb left a tiny, seething red hole in her skin. Sho massaged his shoulders. He was still panting from the effort of controlling the packed skiff.

“That was some bending back there, Sho,” Xiuying called over her shoulder.

“Agreed,” Numa said, patting the boy on the back. “You saved all of our lives.”

“If you hadn’t thought so quickly, who knows what we would be dealing with?” Tsering added, clenching her jaw as she yanked out the last thorn, a stubborn spike embedded deep in her leg. She meant for her words to praise him, but Sho frowned.

“I wish I knew,” he replied. “Whatever it was got some o’ my kin.”

…And now, Tsering was taking him away from the rest of them. There was simply no time to try to find the Foggy Swamp Village under the massive sea of treetops again; they had to get to the Eastern mountains. Sho would have to come with them. Tsering was sure he had never left the swamp before. She touched his arm lightly.

“I am truly sorry that I roped you into this,” she said. “You didn’t ask for any of it… but thank you so much for all of your help. Without you, there’s no way we would have made it this far.”

“Don’t mention it,” Sho answered, glancing down at his feet as the corners of his mouth curled up ever so slightly. Tsering noticed a flush cross his thin cheeks.

The sun was setting behind them now. A weary silence fell over the group. By the way everyone’s shoulders remained tense, it was clear that the shock of the chase still lingered.

“Tsering,” Chomdem said inquiringly. She had been quiet since they broke through the trees, staring out at the horizon.

There was no doubt in Tsering’s mind that she had really been stuck in the swamp for years. Even now, the abbot did not turn towards her, and understandably so. At last, she could see and feel the open air. As a fellow child of the wind, Tsering thought she understood an ounce of what her senior must be feeling right now.

“I need to ask you something, but I fear it’s an incredibly… silly question.”

“Not at all, Sister Chomdem,” Tsering replied, surprised at her senior’s hesitant preface.

“When we boarded your… your bison,” the abbot began, still surprised that the young master she had last seen as a little girl already had her own animal companion, “there was Earthbending involved. I can see that you are an Earthbender, dear,” she addressed Numa, “but I believe you took the same stance as her, Tsering.”

Chomdem said no more, leaving space for the younger Airbender to fill in the blanks for her. Tsering smiled, nodding in understanding. She glanced down at the wooden necklace that Miksha made for her, not having noticed that she had begun to fidget with it.

“You’re right,” she answered. “Numa is an Earthbender… and so am I. And an Airbender, a Waterbender, and eventually, a Firebender, too,” she added. “I’m the Avatar.”

Chapter Text

For a while, there was quiet. By the look on his face, Sho clearly still didn’t fully believe what his Airbending friend had said. Numa gazed at Tsering as she secured a bandage on Chomdem’s forearm. The abbot’s expression was a myriad of emotions.

“The Avatar,” the older Airbender finally murmured. “You are Wan’s successor.”

“That’s right,” Tsering replied softly.

“Spirits above,” Chomdem breathed. Her eyes fluttered shut. She pinched the bridge of her nose, as if the added pressure would help staunch her tears. The group let her process the new information in silence. Tsering could feel her friends looking from her to her elder and back again, but she didn’t take her gaze off Chomdem. When the old woman finally opened her eyes again, she stared at Tsering for a long time.

The abbot may have been declared missing a few years ago, but she had been away for much longer. Tsering was no longer a small child; she had grown and changed in Chomdem’s absence. She had her tattoos. She had her own bison. She had new friends and a new perspective since she left their home. Not to mention being the reincarnation of a person Chomdem had cared deeply about. Tsering had grown used to all the details of her newfound identity, but knew that each time someone else learned who she was, she would have to receive their reactions with patience and grace.

“I didn’t believe it at first either,” Xiuying’s voice filtered through the quiet, “but it’s true. She hasn’t tried Firebending yet, but Tsering can bend the other three elements, no problem.”

Chomdem looked at Xiuying, who had turned around from her position on Pingdeng’s neck. The abbot’s expression warped unexpectedly as she studied the Firebender’s features.

“I know your face,” she finally said, her hushed voice the snapping of farway twigs. “You… you are a descendant of Xiupeng.”

Tsering looked at Xiuying. The color had drained from her face.

“H-how do you know–”

“Xiupeng,” Chomdem cried, “was the man who killed Avatar Wan.”

Xiuying’s golden irises quivered. Chomdem’s revelation hung thicker in the air than the clouds that passed them by.

“My f-father… killed Avatar Wan?” The Firebender’s words were strangled. The old woman nodded. Tsering watched Chomdem’s troubles come alive in the deep lines of her face.

“I came to the swamp on my way to the city of Omashu. When my bison, Tenten, and I flew over it, it was as if… It was as if it called to me. Perhaps it is difficult to believe,” she said, shaking her head. Tsering and Numa shared a look.

“We believe you,” Tsering said reassuringly.

“I’m not sure why I answered the call… in retrospect, I should not have,” she continued, looking down. “But Wan once told me that he wished to visit the swamp and cleanse his spirit there, so I thought perhaps… perhaps I could cleanse mine, too.” Chomdem paused, closing her eyes again. “He told me of a grand tree that could supposedly guide people toward enlightenment… I never found it. Tenten and I were separated in a storm within hours of my arrival; I am still not sure what became of him. I only grew more and more lost in the swamp.

“I was terrorized by visions, by memories and nightmares alike,” she said slowly. “The memory that haunted me most in the swamp was the day I found Wan after he had… crossed over to the realm of the spirits.” Chomdem sighed. “There had been a brutal battle between warring tribes. Wan had tried to stop it, at the cost of his own life. It was the Avatar’s last stand,” Chomdem went on, the pain in her voice palpable.

Tsering felt a familiar wisp of emotion in her heart. She knew this story, but how?

“When I found Wan, the fight was long over. But the swamp magnified my memories. I saw parts of the battle as if I had been there. I saw Wan struggle to contain the violence – he was an old man, you see, and no longer at his full strength. I saw a Firebender, a man who you resemble so much…” Chomdem trailed off, sorrow carving trenches in her brow. Everyone quietly awaited her next words.

“I saw Wan die, again and again, as I tried to find my bison,” the abbot sighed. “I heard Xiupeng give Wan his name before he dealt the fatal blow, as clearly as if I had witnessed it myself.”

Tsering’s mind suddenly conjured the images that she had seen in Tu Zin and Omashu. The arid landscape with the giant earthen rings. The scene warped into a bloody battlefield. The fire. No wonder she had seen it while evading Xiuying’s flame. It was her past life recognizing the flame of Xiuying’s kin. It was her past life remembering the last day of his life.

Xiuying was completely still, except for her trembling lip. For the first time, Tsering saw her friend as the scarred and terrified little girl that she used to be. Her knuckles were white around Pingdeng’s reins, her back rigid until a gasping breath forced it to bend forward.

“I–”

Xiuying’s voice drowned in her tears. Tsering could see it in her friend’s expression. She hadn’t known that piece of her family history. She hadn’t known that her father’s legacy was the Avatar’s final battle. She hadn’t known that her own blood had spilled the blood of her friend’s past life. My father wasn’t always a bad man, Xiuying had said to Tsering on the day they had met. Killing the Avatar must not have been a significant enough event for Xiupeng to tell his daughter about. Either that, or the Firebender’s father intentionally hid it from her.

Pingdeng had stopped moving forward and begun to float in place, aware that the person steering was no longer paying attention. Numa and Sho crept over to where the Firebender sat. Sho gently relieved her of the reins, which he handed to Numa before helping Xiuying into the saddle.

“I’m terribly sorry, dear,” Chomdem said quietly, a hand to her chest. “Memories weigh so heavily on the heart.”

Tsering knew the abbot hadn’t meant to cause so much pain by sharing her own. Some stories simply had to be told.

Xiuying pulled away from Sho and fell into the Avatar’s arms, sobbing. Numa looked at the two of them with an unreadable expression, her moon-shaped necklace flashing in the evening light, before turning back to the darkening horizon.

After some time, the fiery girl stilled in Tsering’s embrace. The daughter of the Avatar’s murderer sighed into the arms of Wan’s next life. Tsering was confident that it was impossible for their friendship to have been pure coincidence.  Some spirit of fate must have brought both girls to Tu Zin, tucked Xiuying’s dagger into the sand under Tsering’s foot. They were brought together for a reason, she decided, squeezing her friend tightly. Together, they would balance the unfortunate record of their history, and in turn, the rest of the world.

“Sorry, but… is anybody else freezin’ their keister off?” Sho mumbled with a shiver, his long arms wrapped around as much of his exposed skin as possible.

“There should be an extra pair of pants in that bag over there,” Tsering gestured with her chin to the remaining supplies strapped to the back of the saddle. “They’re probably a bit small... I’m sorry there isn’t more.”

“Never heard o’ pants before, but they sure are cozy,” the Waterbender replied as he tugged the brown Air Nomad apparel over his tribal loincloth, glancing around at the rest of the group’s waistbands to deduce where his own should be. The ends of the pant legs, which would normally gather at the ankles of someone Tsering’s height, just covered the lanky young man’s knees. Still, they fit his thin frame well, she thought.

“So… what was that thing comin’ for us back there?” Sho asked as the turkey-duckbumps across his skin dissipated. Now, it was Chomdem who shuddered.

“One of Vaatu’s oldest and most formidable allies,” the abbot replied. “As soon as I entered its territory, I knew that I was in the presence of a dark and mighty spirit. I refused to learn its name, nor to give it mine…. If I had, there would have been no chance at salvation.

“Did any of you have any strong negative emotions in the place where you found me?” she asked, looking around. Xiuying did not move – in fact, Tsering wondered whether she had fallen asleep – but the rest of the youths nodded.

“A rogue spirit… I knew it,” Tsering murmured.

Chomdem looked at her and nodded solemnly; of course, the Avatar would feel a powerful spirit’s aura. The abbot appeared to have already accepted Tsering’s revelation.

“It hunted me,” Chomdem went on, her face remarkably tranquil now despite the horrors of her story. “It was the ultimate test of negative jing. The spirit never found me, but it could sense my energy. I only heard its voice once… an awful sound. It told me how lucky I should feel, for it found easy prey in the swamp, but I would finally be a worthy meal.”

Tsering had never heard of a spirit with such abominable intentions; by all accounts, not even the spirit of chaos itself ate human beings.

“So, that’s what happened to my kin,” Sho whimpered, holding his head.

Tsering closed her eyes. Could the world be any more out of balance? Wan had dedicated and sacrificed his life to be the bridge of harmony between humans and spirits, and he had hardly scratched the surface. While humanity warred against itself, spiritual matters were neglected, allowing rogue spirits to wreak havoc undetected. This was what she had inherited; Wan’s problems and more were now hers to solve.

And she wasn’t even sure what waited for her back home.

When she opened her eyes, Xiuying was looking up at her. Her eyes were the gentle light of a sunset finally breaking through stormclouds.

“Tsering,” she murmured. “You’re not alone. It’s going to be alright. We’ve got your back.”

It was as if her friend had read her mind. Tsering looked back at her, then at Chomdem, Sho, and finally, Numa, sending a silent prayer to the spirits. Please let Xiuying be right.

They flew into the night, long after the swamp passed them by and was replaced once more by dusty, barren, edge-of-the-desert landscapes. Aside from Tsering and Pingdeng, everyone else was asleep. The Avatar highly doubted she would be able to rest tonight, gearing herself up for a long night in the sky. Eventually, though, even her steadfast companion began to drift in mid-air, wavering and veering in his path. It had been a long day.

“Let’s take a break, buddy,” the Avatar whispered soothingly to him, stroking the soft fur between his mismatched horns.

Pingdeng huffed, floating raggedly in the direction of a high cliff protruding from the earth. As they neared the bluff, Tsering came to recognize it as the same one that her and Xiuying had spent a night on, when they came this way going the other direction. The memory brought a sentimental smile to her face as she took her bison down gently, taking care not to wake her slumbering passengers. The plateau had a thin, sloping wall that would shelter the group from most of the silty winds coming from the desert: the perfect place for everyone to rest for a while. Everyone else, at least.

Tsering climbed off Pingdeng’s neck and made her way to the edge of the cliff, staring down at the land below. They couldn’t be too far from Tu Zin now. I hope Yao is well, she thought, pulling out the map that Miksha gave her a long time ago. From many months in the dense swamp air, the paper had softened, and Tsering unfolded it slowly. She sat, letting her legs dangle over the cliff’s edge, gazing at the marking that Miksha had made on the paper. Memories weigh so heavily on the heart.

Tsering tried to remember how she felt when she had first left the village, when her and her newfound animal companion had first set off on their journey to Omashu. She tried to remember how it felt to have no hair, how it felt when her tattoos were still fresh and sensitive, how it felt to wave goodbye to Miksha and Aarav and Norbu and the rest of her people. A soft breeze tickled her nose. She flicked her bandaged ankles, gathering the updraft in controlled little whirls of Airbending like she used to do years ago while she waited for Yu on Lion Turtle’s Cliff. She pulled the ankle of her trousers up to her knee and stared at the long, thick scar on the side of her leg, a relic from a bandit raid that her and her friends had stopped together on their way to the swamp. Things had changed.

She had changed.

Her and Pingdeng had first crossed over the Eastern mountains as a group of two, and now they were returning in a group of six. Strangely, she couldn’t imagine it any other way.

The breeze picked up abruptly, and the map was lifted from where she had set it down on the cliff beside her. Tsering knew she could easily grab her glider-stick and retrieve it, but instead, she watched the paper float and glide on the wind, further and further out of reach. She knew where she was going anyway. If the air currents favored them, and Pingdeng flew as fast as he could, they would hopefully reach the Eastern mountains by sunset tomorrow.

Tsering watched the map spiral downward until another breeze too far down to feel caught it and swept it out of sight. She remembered the last sunset she had seen from her village, the light that had submerged her whole world in gold, promising an adventure ahead. The Avatar wondered what awaited her at the end of tomorrow’s sunset.

Chapter Text

Chomdem assumed she would be the first of the group to wake. She had developed near nocturnal habits in order to survive the Dark Swamp, and the day’s light had not yet diluted the inky black of night when she opened her eyes. However, perched atop the high rock wall of the cliff was none other than Tsering. The Avatar faced the direction in which the sun would soon rise, her back to the group. The long, thin wooden stick that she had given her elder as a support yesterday rested atop her crossed legs. With great strain, Chomdem climbed up to the top of the wall – her strength had not yet returned, and she doubted very much that she could have lifted herself up with just Airbending. Tsering’s eyes were closed, but her purposeful posture told Chomdem she was not sleeping.

“You should get some more rest,” the Avatar whispered gently.

“I’m not used to being outside of the swamp anymore,” her senior admitted. “It will be a difficult adjustment.”

“I am so sorry that it took so long for one of us to find you,” Tsering sighed, looking at Chomdem with tired eyes. The girl was too young to look so exhausted.

“There is no need to apologize,” the abbot replied. “I should be the one apologizing, after all. I should never have gone to the swamp. I didn’t go as a part of my mission… only for selfish reasons. I am sorry that your first task as a master and Avatar was cleaning up after my mistakes. I am sorry that I missed so many formative years of your life in my absence. The Avatar needs friendly faces to guide them on their path.”

Tsering knew from the heaviness in her words that Chomdem was thinking of Wan, of how so much of his journey had been spent alone. But Tsering had never really been alone. Not like the woman sitting next to her.

“You shouldn’t feel bad just for going somewhere you felt called to,” Tsering murmured. “We are supposed to be a wandering people.”

Thinking of her life in the village made her organs twist with mixed emotions. She had been safe; her people had been safe; but what about the rest of the world? It needed the Avatar to lead it towards balance, to be a beacon of hope and peace... and it had needed her for a long time. While her people overlooked their nomadic roots, they hadn’t even known that the Avatar was living among them, sheltered away from her duties. For sixteen years, she hadn’t known she was Wan’s reincarnation. No one had. Even now, almost no one knew that Raava had never left the physical realm at all, that she had been living in the last lion turtle village at the very edge of the known world.

Tsering’s stomach gave another lurch when she thought of Yu. Her first task as the Avatar had nearly been completed, and yet another one lay at the end of it, one that seemed ever the more daunting.

“Sister Chomdem… I need to tell you something about what might be waiting for us back home.”

When Tsering finished describing the vision Raava had given her at the banyon-grove tree, a vein of sapphire shimmered at the farthest ends of the horizon. Chomdem looked thoughtful.

“Perhaps Yu’s face is merely a symbol of the village itself,” she mused. “And the trouble resides among our people.”

The notion was slightly more comforting than those that had been invading Tsering’s mind for the past day. She swallowed the bile that had risen in her throat.

“Still, you are right,” Chomdem added. “Your vision is not something to take lightly. We must hurry back.”

Tsering nodded, swinging her legs over the wall to leap off. “I’ll wake everyone up.”

“Tsering,” Chomdem said, stopping the girl with a gentle hand on her shoulder. The way the young Avatar gazed at her, attentively awaiting her words, reminded Chomdem of when Tsering was a little girl. She had always been such a kind, joyous soul. The abbot hoped that whatever waited for them at the end of this journey wouldn’t tarnish that kindness. She hoped that Avatarhood wouldn’t tarnish that joy.

“Thank you… for rescuing me,” the old woman whispered. “I am not sure how much longer I could have survived that horrible place.”

For the first time since they had been reunited, Tsering smiled with an unhindered happiness.

“You are a part of our people, a part of my family. After the abbots told me you were unaccounted for, I was eventually going to come and find you, whether they gave me permission to or not.”

And with that, Wan’s next life jumped off the wall to rouse her companions and begin her next trial.

As Pingdeng ferried the group closer and closer to uncertainty, Tsering began to feel ill. Nerves ate at her stomach lining and chewed on the strings of her heart.

“You’re shaking,” Numa murmured, resting a hand on the Airbender’s upper back. Tsering hadn’t noticed. From her place on her bison’s neck, she learned into the grounding warmth of the Earthbender’s palm.

“I don’t know what to do to feel okay right now,” she sighed.

“You know what might help?” Xiuying said, a playful smirk emerging on her face. “Putting the physical stress somewhere else. Why don’t you show Sister Chomdem how your glider-stick works? It gave me a good scare when we first met.”

“That’s what we need, more scares,” Sho retorted sarcastically. Xiuying lightly shoved his shoulder. It appeared the fiery girl was finally warming up to the Waterbending boy.

“Actually, that’s not a bad idea,” Tsering replied, handing Pingdeng’s reins to Numa and grabbing her glider-stick. Her time in the swamp hadn’t ruined the cloth fans or even warped the woodwork at all. She was grateful she’d asked for Miksha’s help in constructing it. The combination of their craftsmanship skills meant her invention was extremely durable.

“What are you showing me?” Chomdem asked with interest.

“One of the reasons I became an Airbending master,” Tsering answered, diving off Pingdeng in a whirl of Airbending.

In mid-air, she flipped so she was falling down back-first, facing the bison above her. For the first time in what felt like forever, hearty laughter sprang up from her belly as she heard Chomdem gasp, watched the abbot lean over the saddle and look down at her with a frantic expression.

“Tsering!” the old woman shouted after her.

The Avatar flipped over again, all four limbs spread wide. She closed her eyes, savoring the sensation of the wind swirling all around her, blustering through her hair. She was an Airbender above all else, after all, a child of the Eastern wind. What greater feeling was there than letting all her inhibitions take flight?

Tsering finally twirled open her glider-stick, the thing that had started out as a dream and a bundle of tree branches. She spiraled upward in defiance of gravity, laughing at the very concept that most living things were bound to it. The fans that Miksha had cut and brought to Centering Hill one fateful night soared across the air currents, carrying the Avatar with them. Once upon a time, she had nearly died for her lack of control over the contraption. Now, it felt as if the glider-stick was fused to her hands and feet; it was an extension of her body. Tsering twisted and twirled, bursting through clouds and drawing loops around her bison, who grumbled playfully, offering her a speed-boost with a swipe of his massive tail. Below her, Xiuying and Numa grinned, and Sho and Chomdem’s jaws hung open. It was as clear as night and day who had seen her tricks before, and who hadn’t.

“You can fly!” Chomdem exclaimed as the Avatar came to hover over the saddle, matching Pingdeng’s speed.

“That’s right… although, I guess it’s technically gliding,” Tsering shrugged nonchalantly, whirling her glider-stick closed and landing neatly back on Pingdeng’s neck. With her free hand, she ruffled the fur behind one of the bison’s ears, receiving a loving rumble in response. The Avatar flicked his reins, and with another swoop of his tail, he surged forward even faster.

“What is this?” the abbot asked incredulously, gesturing at the glider-stick. “How… how…”

“I call it a glider-stick,” Tsering replied to her lack of words, handing the wooden rod to the older Airbender. “I invented it myself. I use it with Airbending to ride along air currents. I also like to use it as a propellor by whirling it over my head, or as a way to generate stronger air blasts by swinging it around. I’m sure there are more uses too, but I haven’t exactly had time to discover them,” she added with a chuckle as Chomdem accidentally opened the glider, yelping in surprise as the fans popped out.

“You got your glider-stick that enhances your bendin’, and we got our skiffs that do the same,” Sho said. “That’s pretty neat.”

“And I have my nunchaku,” Numa added shyly.

“And eventually, I’ll have my flaming dagger!” Xiuying proclaimed.

Numa threw her arm around the Firebender. Tsering laughed again. Xiuying was right; it did feel better to let some of the stress out, even temporarily.

As the day flew by, though, the sick feeling crept back into Tsering’s bloodstream with a vengeance. The sun had begun its descent towards the horizon. Tsering could see the mass of the Eastern Sea glittering in the auburn light. She could spot some of the highest peaks of the Eastern mountains in the distance. It should have been triumphant joy she was feeling, catching the first glimpses of her home after so long, feeling the first gusts of cold wind pouring from the other side of the towering crags, returning from an arduous journey having accomplished her goal and more. Instead, Raava’s words seemed to echo all around her, filling her with dread. There is no time. Go, and bring balance to your home. There is no time.

Tsering shook her head, trying to clear it. I’m not too late. Whatever is going on, I can fix it. There is time, she tried to reassure herself.

“I cannot believe it,” Chomdem breathed behind her. “The Eastern mountains, after all these years.”

“We’re almost there, aren’t we?” Tsering muttered, both in distress and disbelief.

“Those are the tallest mountains I’ve ever seen,” Xiuying emphasized.

“Those are the only mountains I’ve ever seen,” Sho replied, stupefied by the slopes that grew ever steeper in their vision.

“What are you talking about? We’ve been flying past mountains since we left the swamp,” Xiuying retorted.

“Well… these ones look a whole lot different from those ones, is all,” Sho shrugged.

The sounds of their bickering gradually faded to white noise in Tsering’s ears as they crossed the Eastern Sea. Something wasn’t right. Her knuckles tightened on the reins as they approached the mountains.

“Tsering?” Numa’s voice sounded far away.

Here they were, floating between the mountaintops that she had achingly missed for so long, and now, all Tsering wanted to do was turn and flee from the sight before her.

In the vast space between the steep slopes where her home, her best friend, her rock used to be, there was only air.

Yu was gone.

Chapter Text

“Um…what are we looking at?” Xiuying hesitantly asked when the Avatar didn’t move for several minutes.

“I could ask the same question,” Chomdem murmured. “The lion turtle is supposed to be here.”

“Oh no,” Numa whispered.

Tsering’s voice came out like stone. “We need to find him.”

A loud crash echoed across the trees in the deep depression below them. With clenched jaws, she flicked the reins, directing Pingdeng downward in the direction of the sound, her heart threatening to beat right out of her chest. A flash of fiery orange from behind the massive stones below made more than one person in the group gasp. Tsering’s teeth dug into the inside of her cheek with such force as they skirted the bases of the mountains that she drew blood. The taste of iron flooded her tastebuds as the rock formations finally parted to reveal Tsering’s worst nightmare.

“Spirits,” Sho uttered in disbelief.

“No,” Tsering wailed as Pingdeng landed before the body. The bison roared in a mournful anguish. “No, no, no, no, NO!”

She leapt off Pingdeng’s neck and staggered forward. Smoke plumed in a multitude of pillars atop Yu’s back. Burns and lacerations covered his huge, gentle face. The sounds of intruders shouting, of clay and wood smashing, of footsteps trampling everything she had ever known reverberated in Tsering’s skull. She didn’t even notice her friends right behind her, didn’t notice her hands fervently gripping her own hair, the tears on her cheeks as her lungs gasped for air at a rapid pace.

Tsering had been raised with absolutely no concept of the cruelty with which humans could inflict terror on the world when infected with hatred. She had no tools at her disposal, no way to fathom the loss of her dearest friend, her village’s backbone, the magnificent and otherworldly creature that should have lived for hundreds, probably thousands, more years. Such an atrocity had never been more than a nagging, irrational fear in her mind; she was completely unprepared to face the violence and devastation that had swept across the world and made its way to her safe, secluded corner.

The girl from the lion turtle village sank to her knees before his hulking, lifeless frame. She knew that Yu had most likely never touched the ground before this day. The thundering of various elements throughout her village grew muffled in her ears. Right now, Tsering couldn’t think, couldn’t move. She couldn’t feel anything but dull, sickly grief engulfing her entire being, flooding every vein, darkening her bones. She was the Avatar, and not even she could’ve protected him. Her whole body shaking, she fell forward onto her hands, glaring at the ground, the tears streaming from her eyes turning the scorched earth to mud.

Lifting her head, she screamed, her despair and rage echoing throughout the valley. It was a bestial cry. A gust of air blustered outward from her body. Pingdeng, terrified by the scene, bellowed in horror and fled, carrying Chomdem, who was stunned motionless, with him.

Tsering’s tears sparkled as a blinding white light seeped through them. Her tattoos began to glow, frosty light spreading from her feet to the point on her forehead. The wind around her stirred into a fierce gale, with her as its eye, forcing her friends backwards. She slammed her hands against the ground, her nails digging into the loose dirt, and a dozen boulders erupted from the land. In a cyclone of air, Tsering rose from the earth, still screaming, tears still pouring from her blazing eyes.

“Numa, we need to take cover!” Xiuying frantically shouted over the typhoon winds developing around their friend, shielding her face from flying debris.

Numa nodded silently, unable to take her dismayed gaze off Tsering. She pulled her palms apart and stomped the ground, bending a trench for her, Xiuying, and Sho to jump into. The Earthbender hastily summoned a thick wall of earth above the ditch to shield them. Through a slit in the rock, they stared at their friend, the Avatar, crying out in agony from dozens of feet in the air, with glowing eyes and tattoos the likes of which they had seen only once before. Sho paled, his complexion nearly matching the whites of his widened eyes. Xiuying began to cry. Numa squeezed her friend’s hand as they watched helplessly.

Tsering could feel Wan’s pain, his anger, his overwhelming grief as he watched the peace in the world fracture and shatter all around him. She could see the wars he struggled and failed to end, the conflict he gave his own life to try to stop, all his problems that were now hers. Tsering hovered over the village in her whirlwind. The bandits that were not pillaging inside of huts, pagodas, and temples stopped and stared up at her in horror. The Avatar clenched her fists until the boulders around her broke and condensed into rocks as hard-packed as metal and began to rotate around her in a whirling ring, exactly as Numa had shown her in the swamp. She swept her hands from left to right, beckoning the water from the pond by the temple where she had been anointed an Airbending master. It soared through the air and wrapped around her in a loop opposite the earthen one. Tsering thrust her palms forward, and a lethal wave of wind, rain, and earthen hail swept over the village. The force of the Avatar’s bending ripped the persimmon trees from their roots and crumpled the structures where her people had once meditated, worked, lived. The pillagers shouted and shrieked as they were vaulted off their feet, out of the village, and off Yu’s back entirely. Through her veil of light, she could see that there were no Air Nomads among the hundred or so howling bodies; her people must have fled when the raid began. No one would ever again set foot in the village. No one would ever again tread upon her friend’s corpse.

“Tsering!”

She could hear a voice behind the screams that filled her skull. It was Numa. She had left the shelter and made her way towards the Avatar’s tornado, anchoring her feet to the ground with each step through her own Earthbending. The older girl dodged a flying tree trunk before straightening back up.

“Tsering, I know you’re still in there; please, listen to me! I know that you’re feeling inconceivable grief right now. I know how you feel – I felt it too when I learned why I had to grow up without my father. I know you’re broken down… but we can work through this together; we can build you back up! Please, come back. None of us can imagine the heartbreak you’re feeling right now, but… we need you.”

She paused, gazing up at Tsering with tears streaming down her beautiful cheeks.

“Tsering… I need you.”

All was silent but the raging windstorm. Tsering’s arms fell to her sides. The water and earth that had levitated around her, now freed from her control, fell to the ground, and she slowly floated back down with it. The intense glare of her past life left her eyes, and she turned and fell, weeping, into the arms of the powerful young woman who had braved her storm to talk her down.

Chapter Text

Tsering was drained. Emotionally, spiritually, and physically. She hadn’t slept in two days, hadn’t eaten in nearly as long. She hardly had any tears left to cry, weeping nothingness in Numa’s arms. Xiuying and Sho crept out from the earthen shelter and joined in on the hug. Like Tsering had done with Xiuying the day before, they held her quietly, supporting her for as long as she needed.

“He is… was… my best friend,” she whimpered. “He was… he was supposed to be here when I returned. He was supposed to hear all my new stories. We were supposed to eat persimmons together.”

She’d had no idea that when she said goodbye to him all that time ago, it was for the last time. She understood now why she had been pushed to tears at that moment. Tsering had thought he would still be there when she came back, that everything would be the same as it was, with sweet fruits and long talks and comfort. But some otherworldly part of herself had known all along that she was wrong.

Their final conversation replayed over and over in her mind. Yu’s calm voice thundered in her ears. I will be here for you for all your days, and for many of your next lives… Avatar.

The Avatar shook her head. As much as she wished for his words to be true, the corpse before her wordlessly told her otherwise. She stared at his body, searching for some indication that he was still breathing, for a twitch of his bloody eyelids, a whisper to escape his crooked, broken jaws. But there was only silence and stillness. Tsering felt lightheaded and nauseous. Tunnels of darkness swirled at the edges of her vision. Her whole world was uprooted, spinning on a fragmented axis.

“Tsering!” a voice suddenly called from above. The group hug unfolded as everyone’s heads turned towards Lion Turtle’s Cliff. Tsering blinked, squinted in disbelief. She couldn’t believe her eyes.

Miksha flew down towards her and her friends, not on the back of a bison, but with a glider-stick. Her orange robes billowed around her in the unsteady air currents left over from the Avatar’s breakdown. Behind her, Norbu and a half-dozen or so more Airbenders flew over the cliff, all using their very own glider-sticks. So, that’s how they managed to flee the bandit raid. Miksha must have done exactly what Tsering had hoped for and introduced the Avatar’s invention to the other Airbenders in her absence.

The flying array of autumn-colored robes was the last thing she saw before everything was engulfed in black.

It was at around twelve or thirteen years of age that Tsering’s angst reached its apex. Her peers were constantly testing her patience with snarky comments, giggling whispers, and sneaky exclusion. On a day when the weather was so fair that it was nearly impossible to have a bad day, Tsering was having an awful one. The other air children, tired of trying so hard to subtley leave her out of things all the time, had sent their most outspoken representative to tell her that she was explicitly not invited to play Ghost in the Grove with them after the afternoon meditation. After all, it was hard to hide with the way she looked, and she understood that it wouldn’t be fair to her or the others, right?

Tsering did not understand. The young Airbender with the mottled skin finally lost her patience. She shouted after the brazen boy that she was going to make up even better games, the best games, and never let any of the others play it with her; they would be sorry they ever left her out, and she would laugh at their sorrow as she played with newfound friends. The boy, already walking away, shrugged in indifference. Tsering remembered the smoldering rage that filled her chest, the tears that stung her eyes, her heartbeat in her hands as she balled them into fists.

It was at that moment that Miksha had entered Tsering’s line of sight, having heard her shouting. The abbot’s touch was gentle, her words feathery-soft against the child’s blistering anger. Tsering was too upset to explain what had happened, only that she wanted to make them feel as bad as she did.

“Revenge is a two-headed rat-viper,” Miksha had murmured, wiping the pre-teen’s tears. “As you watch your enemy fall, you are being poisoned as well.”

Late morning sunlight filtering through foliage and onto Tsering’s face urged her awake. She sat up slowly, pressing herself against the trunk of the tree she had apparently been sleeping under. A bison-fur blanket covered her, dappled with a few fallen yellow leaves. She was already aware of the puffiness of her eyes, the soreness in her muscles, the ache in her heart. For a moment, Tsering thought it was the emotions of her dream, her memories, transcending into the waking world. Then, she remembered where she was.

Numa slept hunched in a sitting position in front of her, her elbow on her knee and her cheek resting against her palm. She must have kept a diligent watch over the Avatar to have fallen asleep in such an uncomfortable-looking pose. Tsering’s heart fluttered. Then her stomach growled. Loudly. So loudly that the Earthbender jolted awake.

“Tsering,” Numa mumbled, rubbing her face. “You’re awake.”

“I am,” she replied, unsure if that was actually true. “What happened? Where is everyone?” She paused. “Was last night… real?”

Numa hesitated, her mouth pulling to one side.

“Yes,” she said, “it was. Xiuying, Sister Miksha, and some others are rounding up the bandits who attacked your village. Sho and everyone else are up here on the cliffs, building makeshift shelters, tending to wounds… processing what happened.”

Numa failed to suppress a yawn. Despite how exhausted the young woman looked, her skin still glowed in the light, her eyes still shimmered. She looked as beautiful to Tsering as she ever had. “I didn’t want you to wake up in the thick of it, so I brought you here after Sister Miksha and the others found us.”

Tsering pushed back the image of Numa carrying her here, swallowed the rising disappointment at not having been awake to remember what it felt like to be in her arms again. There were too many other things to think about now.

“Where is Pingdeng?” She asked, suddenly panicked. Her bison had flown off last night, frightened by her, by the Avatar State. What if her turmoil had damaged their bond? Or severed it?

“He actually carried us up here,” Numa answered, gently placing a hand on Tsering’s outstretched leg. It was still bandaged from the thorny fern-grasses in the swamp. It appeared that the Avatar State had agitated the wounds underneath the crimson-stained fabric. “Don’t worry. Pingdeng’s not gone. Although… Xiuying borrowed him to go and help capture bandits. We would have asked you, but–”

Tsering raised her palm. Of course, it was fine. She trusted her friends with her life, and if Pingdeng had allowed Xiuying to take him, he felt the same way.

For a while, the pair rested in silence. Numa inched her way towards the shade of the tree until she leaned against its trunk as well, her and Tsering’s arms touching. She appreciated that the Earthbender understood when it was an appropriate time for words, and when it was time for quiet. There was probably nothing more that could be said to comfort her, anyway. For now, the simple brush of their skin together was enough. Countless emotions overwhelmed her as she recalled the events of the previous night, the sensation reminiscent of when Tsering had uttered Chomdem’s name in Wan’s presence and his energy nearly threw her off her bison.

“The abbots have always taught us to forgive,” Tsering finally sighed, “but I don’t think I can do it. Those people displaced my entire village. They… murdered my friend, my best friend in the whole world. They… they murdered a lion turtle.”

Numa nodded quietly.

The Avatar buried her face in her hands. “They slaughtered one of the world’s oldest and grandest creatures… for what? Glory? Riches that they thought we might have had? Sheer cruelty?” Tsering’s words came out in a forced mockery of laughter. “I can’t believe… I…”

“I know,” Numa murmured gently. “It’s unbelievable.”

Tsering’s airways felt constricted. How could she possibly grapple with this? How could she even discuss it further without invoking the Avatar State all over again?

Numa put her arm around her. The Avatar leaned into her embrace, trying to bring her breathing back into a meditative state. If she didn’t calm down, the resulting turmoil could put everyone on the cliffside in danger.

“I’ve never seen you bend like that… the way you did when we found him,” Numa said softly after some time. “It was terrifying. And amazing. I’ve never seen anyone bend like that – not even my mother.”

“Well, that’s because you had never really seen the Avatar State before,” Tsering replied. “Neither had I,” she added softly.

“What did it feel like?” Numa asked.

“It was probably the most intense sensation I’ve ever felt before,” she answered. Talking about her senses was much easier than talking about what had heightened them. And Numa’s arm slung over her shoulders was comforting, centering. “I could feel Wan’s bending in mine, almost as if he was there, magnifying my power. It was difficult to control. The pain inside my heart was so powerful, it was like my spirit was going into defense mode. It was… a lot.”

Numa nodded again. The older girl turned her face away.

“You are incredible,” the Earthbender whispered so quietly that Tsering almost didn’t hear her. The Avatar gazed at her. She waited to speak until Numa finally looked back at her. Both young women’s faces flushed.

“I feel the same way about you,” Tsering replied in equal volume. “I don’t know how I would have gotten this far without you. I… can’t imagine my life without you now.”

“I only wish I could do more,” Numa replied. She took hold of Tsering’s hand. “I am so sorry for everything that’s happened, Tsering. I want you to know that whatever you decide to do from here, I will stand by you.”

Tsering tried to smile through her trembling chin.

“Promise?” she murmured.

A familiar rumbling sound from the cliff broke their eye contact.

“Tsering! You’re awake!” called Xiuying from Pingdeng’s withers. Tsering waved weakly at her companions as they approached, other monks and nuns on bison not far behind. She sighed in relief, certain now that there was no way her bison had been scared off for good. His eyes sparkled as he looked at her, his huge teeth parting in a roar that gave him the appearance of a grin. I’m so glad to see you, she could imagine him yelling towards her as he passed.

The beast’s happy expression was starkly juxtaposed by his saddle. It was packed full of people with their hands bound. Many were injured, all were filthy, with smudged war paint and clothes tarnished by blood and grime. When they noticed Tsering, many of their faces flooded with fright. If they could have moved, they surely would have inched as far away from her as they could; many leaned back in their sitting positions, murmuring worriedly.

Tsering’s eyes widened, her organs wrestling inside of her body. The Avatar had never been the target of such fearful looks before. These people were genuinely afraid of her. Then, she remembered why they were there. Her shock boiled into anger as she glared at the outlaws who had ransacked her village and murdered Yu. Her fists clenched with such a force that blood dripped from her palms where her fingernails dug in. They should be afraid of her.

“Tsering,” Numa said, a hand on her arm. All the Earthbender could offer her was her own name.

Through the haze of anger obscuring her vision, Tsering spotted a face among the pillagers that made her blink. The teenager couldn’t have been much older than the Avatar. Their hair was sheared everywhere but the top of their head, where long, curly tresses sprang forward. Their skin was not quite as dark as Tsering’s, but paler pigment had stretched just as noticeably over their eyes, nose, mouth, and one of their ears. The two stared at each other in equal measures of surprise.

Tsering had always thought she was the only being in the world with this condition until she met Pingdeng. Now, it felt as if she were looking through a strange, warped mirror.

“Tsering!” called a voice.

Tsering was jolted out of her stunned trance. From the very back of the group of bison, she spotted Miksha flying towards her. She had left Kokoro to transport their share of the captives alone and flew towards the cliff with her glider-stick. In mid-air, she whirled the contraption closed, landing right beside the Avatar.

“Tsering,” the abbot said again, her voice quivering as she threw her arms around her. “Thank the spirits,” she breathed as tears spilled down her cheeks. “I am so glad that you are here. And you brought Sister Chomdem safely back to us as well. I am so, so proud of you.”

Her words were like the icy spray of the sea on a blazing hot day. In the midst of the tragedy, Tsering had almost forgotten why she had left home in the first place, all that she had accomplished in her time away.

“Thank you, Sister Miksha,” she said into her guardian’s shoulder. Her palms stung from within her tightly folded fingers as she tried not to get blood on Miksha’s robes. Or start crying again. “I’m so glad to see you… but Sister Chomdem… is she alright?”

“It will take time for her to recover physically,” the older air master replied. “Emotionally, I don’t think any of us are alright,” she added gravely, pulling away from Tsering and looking her in the eyes. Concern swam in her hazel irises. And pain. Tsering couldn’t recall ever seeing such an expression from her. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

Numa flinched in the silence that followed. Tsering looked down as another wave of unfathomable pain seized her. She nodded quietly, gritting her teeth in hopes that clenching her jaws could somehow stop her eyes from leaking.

“Oh, my sweet child,” Miksha whispered, pulling her into another embrace.

Miksha hadn’t known about Tsering and Yu’s friendship for very long before the Avatar left the village. Nevertheless, she had known Tsering throughout her life. We’ve been good friends since before my parents left, the girl had told the abbots after her master ceremony. Despite that they all had shared a home on the lion turtle’s back, he had been perhaps most fundamental to Tsering. This was a permanent, life-altering loss for her. And, as the Avatar, she would have the burden of helping the abbots decide how to move forward. After all, Yu’s death was bigger than just the Eastern Airbenders.

“You can stay here for as long as you need,” Miksha soothed, “but eventually, we must get you to our camp. You need food, fresh robes, and… well, we need you. You are our Avatar.” She rose to her feet and opened her glider-stick. “I should get back to my bison. Please come to the camp when you are ready. It’s not a far hike from here… do you remember the way, Numa?”

“Yes,” the Earthbender said. “Thank you. Please don’t worry about us.”

Miksha smiled, nodding at the older girl before fixing Tsering with one final look. The older Airbender’s eyes glistened with innumerable emotions. Neither of them could have imagined this was how their reunion would be, overshadowed by death and displacement. Not to mention Tsering’s new scars… and new friends. They had a lot of catching up to do.

“Right,” Miksha sighed. “I will see you both soon, I hope,” she declared with as much enthusiasm as she could muster.

Then, she turned and threw her glider-stick heartily in front of her. Tsering’s breath caught in her throat as the woman who had loved and guided her all her life rushed forward and leapt off the cliff, grabbing the handles of the glider in mid-air and soaring away. The dazzling smoothness of the move nearly made Tsering forget herself. She had missed Miksha’s presence achingly. Chomdem had been right. Now, more than ever, the Avatar needed friendly faces to help guide her on her path.

“Airbending is so unreal,” Numa mused. “It’s been an honor to be in the presence of so many air masters.”

“I take it you and Sister Miksha were introduced while I was unconscious,” Tsering turned back to Numa. She nodded.

“And the other abbots, too. Sister Miksha told me that she’s been your mentor essentially since you were born.”

“That’s right,” Tsering replied. “She’s been like a mother to me... but at the same time, so much more than just a mother.”

Numa nodded.

“It feels so special to finally be here, and to see your home. I showed you so much of mine when you came to Omashu, and now I get to see yours,” the Earthbender said. Tsering smiled sadly.

“I wish you could have really seen my home,” she muttered, a hard knot of grief settling into her stomach. “Our village was so, so beautiful. I wanted to show you everything… where I slept, where my master ceremony took place, where I gathered persimmons, where I talked to Wan for the first time. I wish… I wish you could have met Yu.

“This wasn’t how it was supposed to be at all,” Tsering breathed after a long pause. Her eyes burned.

“I know,” the Earthbender murmured shakily. They looked at each other. Tsering touched a finger to Numa’s quivering lip.

Together, they cried for what should have been.

Chapter Text

By the time Numa led Tsering towards the Airbenders’ camp, clouds had swarmed to cover the sun, and the Earthbender shivered with every gust of chilly wind. It was autumn, all right. Tsering’s birthday must have been fast-approaching at this point. What an ill-omened way to begin her seventeenth year.

“It’s just past that big cluster of bushes ahead,” Numa instructed. Tsering’s exhale was shaky as they stepped into the energy of her memories.

“This is the cliff where I used to meet Yu,” she said. “I call it Lion Turtle’s Cliff.”

As she looked out over the rocky ledge, she could almost see the majestic beast swimming through the air, effortlessly defying gravity despite his immense size. She could almost see him turning towards her, his kind, intuitive eyes reading her spirit, his huge mouth opening to catch the persimmons she tossed at him. Her breath caught in her throat as the transparent Yu of her imagination vanished, his outline dispersing like smoke. Never again would they meet here.

Tsering shuddered. Numa grasped her hand.

“Come on,” she whispered to the Avatar.

They ducked under the branches and into a flurry of activity. Sho was helping Norbu and the largest group of Airbenders construct huts of wood and cloth. Benders on glider-sticks and bison flew in every direction, carrying supplies here and there. Aarav disappeared inside one hut carrying bundles of foraged medicinal herbs, several air children following closely behind. Furthest away from where she stood, Xiuying and Miksha were unloading groups of outlaws and directing them behind a massive boulder, out of Tsering’s sight. It seemed that with a steep climb or a steep fall on all sides, there was no worry of the bandits fleeing. Again, the Avatar noticed the person with the multi-colored skin among the captives.

 “Hey, it’s Tsering! Tsering is back!” a familiar voice shouted.

The Avatar turned towards the huts. It was Gyari. She had grown taller since Tsering last saw her. More notably, she was smiling. At Tsering. The younger girl’s call caught everyone else’s attention as well. Sho waved at her. Airbenders dropped their projects and hurried to greet her, to commend her for finding Sister Chomdem, to praise her for her invention of the glider-stick, to offer her tearful words about what happened to the lion turtle. It was more attention all at once than she had ever received in her entire life. Whether or not Tsering was ready to face everyone, here they were.

“Hello, hello. Thank you. It’s good to see you. Yes, I… I know. Thank you so much.” She had no idea what to do or say. All she knew was that she desperately wanted to be at the opposite end of the camp. “Please excuse me,” she said to them, grasping Numa’s hand and pulling her through the crowd towards Xiuying and Miksha. She could feel Gyari’s curious gaze against her tattooed neck. Now was simply not the time to be answering everyone’s questions.

Xiuying rushed forward with her arms outstretched as soon as she noticed Tsering approach. The warmth of the Firebender’s hug brought more tears to her eyes.

“We just can’t catch a break, can we?” the girl in red laughed, sniffling.

“No, we really can’t,” the Avatar chuckled sadly.

Xiuying squeezed her friend firmly before pulling away, holding her shoulders as she looked into her eyes. Her golden irises shimmered behind her tears, a sunrise through a waterfall.

“Tsering… I’m so sorry,” she stuttered, at a loss for words. “I’m… I’m here for you, alright? Anything you need.”

Tsering nodded. “Thank you, Xiuying… for everything,” she said, embracing her tightly once more.

Numa came forward to enfold the Firebender as Tsering turned towards Miksha. The abbot was physically supporting the last bandit, who had a broken leg, and helping them over to where the rest of the pillagers sat quietly. It seemed like the captives felt thoroughly defeated after their encounter with the Avatar State last night. Many of them stared at the ground. Not the teenager with the blotchy skin, though. They looked right at Tsering. She tried to ignore the inquisitive gawk.

“Sister Miksha,” the Avatar said once Miksha had her hands free.

“Oh, Tsering, you are here,” Miksha remarked, hastening to hug her again. “Come; let’s get you cleaned up.”

“Actually, I have some things I need to say to the village first. Is that alright?” Tsering asked. A fiercely stern look filled Miksha’s eyes.

“You may be the Avatar, but you are still under my care. You need to stop and rest sometimes. I will ask Siblings Aarav and Norbu to gather everyone around in a while.”

 Tsering huffed, displeased by her senior’s sudden decision to introduce positive jing into their relationship. Another loud rumble from her stomach told her that Miksha was probably right, though. She couldn’t carry on like this, running on less than empty. She gestured for Xiuying and Numa to wait as she followed Miksha towards the hut that she’d seen Aarav enter.

“I can wash myself, you know,” Tsering tried to allow a playful sarcasm to enter her tone as Miksha set to work gently washing her hair and scrubbing her skin once they were alone. After so much time away from other Airbenders, she had nearly forgotten how to speak to her own people; her voice felt changed, her words foreign.

“This is not about what you’re capable of,” Miksha replied simply, not looking up from her task as she rinsed dried blood and swamp grime from the damp cloth over and over.

Tsering nodded. She sighed and closed her eyes, trying to focus on the physical sensations of her guardian cleaning her skin, the currents of gratitude among the waves of emotions swirling inside of her. She hadn’t properly bathed since Omashu. She probably smelled terrible. She probably looked terrible. If Miksha hadn’t already been there for so much of this side of Tsering’s life, for all the unclean, unpleasant experiences that come with growing up, she would probably be embarrassed. The Avatar stared at the top of Miksha’s head, at the blue tattoos that disappeared into her shaved hairline. Tsering needed a proper shave, too.

“So… your new friends are certainly an interesting lot,” Miksha mused thoughtfully. “How did you come to meet them?”

Despite it all, Tsering couldn’t suppress a smile at the reminder of Sho, Xiuying, and Numa. It felt like ages that she’d known them, yet the stories were still fresh in her mind.

“I met Xiuying first,” the teenager began, “in a village right across the sea.” She chuckled. “I found her dagger buried in the sand, and she attacked me because she thought I was trying to steal it.”

Tsering recalled Wan’s nostalgic grin when he’d mentioned his best friend who had guarded the spirit oasis in the north, wondering if her expression mirrored his as she spoke about her dear friend.

“We met Numa in Omashu, the city where you thought Sister Chomdem was. She’s…” Tsering paused, trying to will the heat out of her cheeks and ignore the increased tempo of her heartbeat. “She’s the daughter of the city’s founder, Oma. They are both incredible people… and incredible Earthbenders. Numa actually taught me how to Earthbend.”

Miksha glanced up in surprise.

“It’s been tricky for me to get the hang of… it is so different from air and water,” the Avatar went on. “But with Numa’s patience and guidance, I managed to do it in the swamp. All I really did was lift a rock up, but…”

Tsering winced as Miksha turned her hands over to examine her palms. The abbot stared at the fresh crimson stains for a moment without saying anything before setting to work with a fresh cloth.

“And the young man wearing your pants?” The older woman asked, smirking as she raised an eyebrow up at her ward. Tsering blushed.

“Oh, that’s Sho. He’s… it’s not like– um, we met him in the swamp. We never would have found Sister Chomdem without his help. He’s a good friend… just a friend.”

Miksha laughed. It was like music to Tsering’s ears. “You can relax, Tsering; I was only teasing. I’ve noticed the way you and Numa look at each other.”

Tsering swallowed, suddenly feeling parched as she felt her face and ears grow hot again.

“I am so happy for you,” the abbot said softly as she finished wrapping Tsering’s hands and feet in fresh bandages.

Miksha’s smile, directed at her, was like warm sunlight on a frigid morning. The Avatar nearly began to cry again. She wiped her eyes as the abbot placed a mirror in front of them.

“I never got the chance to show you how to shave your own hair before you left,” the older Airbender mused. The younger Airbender shook her head. Neither said a word as Miksha methodically dragged a blade up past Tsering’s forehead. She paid attention to the gentle sweeping motions, the angles, the clean hairline left over once Miksha was finished. Tsering blinked at her reflection. Her tattoos gleamed in the filtered light of the hut. She looked like a real, established air master now.

“I’ve missed you so much, Sister Miksha,” she sighed.

“I’ve missed you so much, Tsering,” Miksha replied, grasping her hand before turning and placing a persimmon in it. “You need to eat,” she murmured, rising to her feet. “There are clean robes behind you.”

Tsering nodded. She didn’t look up as Miksha left her alone. She couldn’t. She stared only at the persimmon. The little orange fruit seemed to glow in her hands, countless memories rushing forward into her mind. Tears flowed down Tsering’s cheeks as she took a bite.

Chapter Text

Tsering stepped out of the hut to find Xiuying, Numa, and Sho waiting for her. She wondered how long they’d been there, immediately feeling bad about nodding off once she’d changed into fresh robes. Without saying anything, they all wrapped their arms around her. Tsering’s eyes widened, then fluttered closed in the comfort of her friends’ embrace.

“Are you alright, Tsering?” Sho was the first to break the silence.

“Are any of us?” Xiuying sighed. The four of them hummed in half-hearted laughter, but the questions went unanswered.

“Thank you for standing by me through all of this,” Tsering finally said after one of the longest hugs she had ever experienced in her life. “I’m sorry, but… I need to stay here. I need to tell my people that I’m the Avatar; I need to help everyone rebuild. I understand if you want to go back home… Oma, your friends, the Foggy Swamp villagers, they must be worried sick about you,” Tsering sighed, her heart aching at the thought of the group going their separate ways. “So, if you do want to leave, I would just ask that you wait until after I–”

“Tsering, stop,” Xiuying cut her off. “You are my home. I – we, are not going anywhere. We’re staying and helping, too.”

Numa nodded in agreement. “My mother knows that I can handle myself,” the Earthbender shrugged. “There’s no way we’re leaving you, so you can clear that thought right out of your brain.”

“I’m more’n happy to lend a hand, too,” Sho insisted. “Lo will tell the rest of the village I’m helpin’ the Avatar. Besides, I reckon she can keep an eye on me even all the way out here,” he chuckled.

Their words brought a smile to Tsering’s face. Especially Sho’s. It was the first time the Waterbender had acknowledged that she was the Avatar.

“Sister Miksha and the others are all waiting for you,” Xiuying said. Tsering nodded. Nothing more needed to be said.

The Avatar squeezed her friend’s hands before turning towards where the four abbots had gathered the entire village of Airbenders to await her words. As she approached, the abbots, her peers, her seniors, the people with whom she had lived for her entire life, all looked to her. A plethora of emotions shined on the Airbenders’ faces as Tsering’s gaze swept over them. She wondered how those emotions would change after what she was about to say. The abbots stood beside a large boulder at the front of the gathering. Tsering boosted herself onto it. She took a deep breath.

 “I’m so glad to see all of you again. It is such a relief to see everyone in one piece… more or less.”

The Airbenders were hushed, awaiting her next words. The cloud of what had happened hung silently over them all. Tsering paused, gathering her thoughts. She found Lobsang in the crowd. He had a full beard now, and was holding hands with the same boy who had told her she couldn’t play with the others all those years ago. She tried not to stare for too long.

“The reason why I wanted to speak to you all is because there is something that I have to tell you… something that I should have told you all before I left. It’s the reason why my eyes glowed at my master ceremony, why I was sent to find Sister Chomdem, and not one of the older Airbenders.

“It’s because I am the Avatar,” she declared. “I am Avatar Wan’s reincarnation. Raava lives on, inside of me. I am tasked with bringing balance to the world.”

It was clear that the abbots had not told the rest of the village about her Avatarhood in her absence. Many of the villagers’ mouths hung open.

“The village is no more,” she went on. Emotion welled up in her chest. She swallowed it. She needed to be the Avatar for them right now, not just a fellow villager.

“Yu’s death is a tragedy beyond comprehension. I – we will never be the same without him.”

She paused, her exhale long and shaky. She pressed her palms to her eyes, trying not to cry while trying to collect her thoughts – it felt like grasping for a leaf floating through a whirling obstacle course. Throughout her childhood, she had tried her best to help her peers see the brighter side of things when times got tough. Now was the ultimate test of whether she could still do that.

“We must look at this immense, immense loss as… as an opportunity for our people to grow, to embrace change. Yu protected us from the world, but… he also isolated us from it.” Tsering stopped, glancing at Numa, at Xiuying, at Sho. All three of them smiled up at her encouragingly. None of them would be in her life had she never left the village.

“There is danger, yes… but so much beauty to be found in the world, if only we give it a chance. Wan brought the physical realm into a new age,” she said, finally finding a rhythm in her words. “It’s time we actually participate in it. Together, we can help guide the world away from suffering and towards understanding. We can help each other.

“We have been broken down, and we must build back up again. We must create a new home here… not just for us, but for the whole world. A shelter for Airbenders and sky bison to return to after our journeys. A place for travelers of all walks of life to abandon violence and seek refuge, to learn our ways in peace.”

Tsering paused, needing to catch her breath. Her whole soul ached for Yu, for her and her people’s loss. Her heart yearned to find hope again. And hope would be found in their new home.

“Together, we must build a haven of enlightenment. A temple. The Air Temple of the Eastern Mountains.”

Tsering wasn’t sure how her people would react. With everything that had happened, she wasn’t even sure of how she felt. But saying it out loud, hearing the name she’d essentially conjured on the fly, felt right. Around her, the Airbenders were nodding, smiling, weeping. At the front of the crowd came the sound of clapping hands. Gyari was applauding. Other monks and nuns around her followed suit, until the entire village was applauding the Avatar. Tsering smiled at Gyari, who smiled back at her, tears brimming in their eyes.

“Together!”

“The Eastern Air Temple!”

“To the Avatar!”

“Avatar Tsering!”

Miksha jumped up onto the boulder beside Tsering to give her a hug that forced the air from her lungs.

“That was simply beautiful, Tsering… or should I say, Avatar Tsering?” she murmured. “You’ve been back for hardly a day and have already pledged to help bring the light back into our darkened lives. Thank you.”

The abbot turned to the Airbenders as their applause and tearful cheers died down.

“This tragedy has changed the course of all our lives, forever. As Avatar Tsering said, we will never be the same without Yu, the lion turtle.

“Avatar Wan’s era lasted twenty-four thousand, eight hundred and twenty-six days, and we have lived in Avatar Tsering’s era now for six thousand, one hundred and thirty-three. We must help the Avatar usher in her era, an era of balance.” Miksha’s jaw hardened. “…And that starts with bringing the invaders who ravaged and destroyed our home to justice.”

Quiet surged over the crowd. Tsering stared at her guardian with wide eyes. A public trial? Right now?

Miksha took her ward’s hand, and together they jumped off the escarpment, turning to face the other abbots. The Avatar was surprised to see both Norbu and Aarav wiping tears from their eyes, and Chomdem up and about altogether. The abbot donned fresh robes, fresh bandages, and a freshly shaved hairline. Her gladness at seeing Chomdem so rejuvenated was overshadowed by the tension in the air. She wished that the abbots had conferred with her before getting the whole village involved with the issue of the bandits.

“Many thanks to you for bringing Sister Chomdem safely back home, Avatar,” Norbu said. All four abbots pressed their fists together and bowed to her. It seemed an inappropriate moment for the sentiment, with their entire village silently awaiting their next move.

“The gratitude is entirely mine,” Tsering replied, trying and failing to stay present. “I would not be who I am now had I never left the village.”

“We are all so grateful to you, Avatar,” Aarav blubbered, their emotions overflowing. Tsering fidgeted with her necklace. She could feel hundreds of eyes on her from multiple directions.

“Now… would you be so kind as to move this rock?” Miksha asked loudly, gesturing to the boulder the two of them had been standing on. Tsering realized it was concealing the captives from the villagers.

She gulped. It was unlike Miksha to ask so much of her in such a public setting, let alone to assume she had gained enough Earthbending proficiency in her time away to move something so large. She had only Earthbent alone outside of the Avatar State once, and it had been a much, much smaller stone. She looked at her friends, who flashed her concerned, but reassuring smiles. Tsering nodded, turning back towards the hulking rock. I can do this… maybe.

The key to Earthbending is a grounded stance, Numa had said to her in the swamp. She slowly lowered herself into the stance that she had taken only a few times before. The emotional highs and lows of the last few days were throwing Tsering for a loop. She shook her head. Stay grounded. Focus only on the earth right now, she thought, taking several deep breaths. She reached for the stone.

There was that same solid energy in her palms again, overwhelming her senses, straining her muscles. It would be a rocky road to master Numa’s native element, she thought, gritting her teeth as sweat began to drip down her back. Or, maybe the boulder in her bending grasp was just extremely heavy. A true Earthbending stance is unbreakable. Numa’s voice echoed in her mind so clearly that Tsering glanced around to see if the Earthbender wasn’t right beside her. The Avatar huffed and stomped the ground, rooting herself to it, solidifying her connection to it. And then, she pulled. As hard as she could. And the boulder shifted. Many of the Airbenders gasped in surprise while Tsering gasped for air.

“She truly is the Avatar!” someone cried as the massive hunk of earth slid forward, gouging the soil out from the space it had likely occupied for countless years. Tsering dragged it for several paces, thinking she might faint from exertion, her vision tunneling. Then, she felt Numa step in beside her.

“I thought you might want some help,” the tall girl said warmly, sinking into her own stance.

The weight of the earth in Tsering’s grip suddenly diminished. She looked at Numa beside her. Through the older girl’s smile, Tsering could see that her jaw was clenched as well. A single bead of sweat crept down her temple. Together, the two girls hefted the gigantic rock through the air and over the cliff. The Airbenders shrieked in awe. The Avatar’s heart raced as she gulped in air. Numa wrapped her in a hug. She rested a hand on the back of Tsering’s head, pressing the Airbender’s ear to her steady heartbeat. No one had ever done that before.

“I’m so proud of you, Tsering,” the Earthbender whispered. “You’re so much stronger than you know.”

The excitement of the Avatar’s feat quickly dissipated with the dust. Airbenders and bandits stared at each other, one side bound, the other bristling.

Chapter Text

“It’s time,” Norbu grunted. The abbots made for the other, larger boulder anchored behind the pillagers. Tsering glanced back at her friends before following them, having no idea what her role in this situation might be. Please don’t make me try to Earthbend that…

Norbu leapt onto the escarpment. Together, Aarav and Miksha bent a cloud of air under Chomdem that lifted her onto it before jumping up as well. Miksha nodded gravely at the Avatar, signaling for her to join them. Tsering sighed heavily, trying to force some of the stress out of her body. From this vantage point, she could gaze upon the entire cliffside encampment. It was an imtimidating sight. She was still trying to process everything that had happened, struggling to not float right out of her body, when Aarav began to speak.

“Airbenders,” their voice sang across the crowd. “Our deepest thanks to all for your efforts since the grievous attack on our home. We must continue to recover from this disaster with courage and face this situation as one united village. The Avatar has returned with Sister Chomdem and offered a wonderful proposition for moving forward, and I believe that together, we can bring her vision for the Air Temple of the Eastern Mountains into reality.”

Many of the Airbenders had relaxed into Aarav’s soothing words. It was good that they spoke first. Norbu stepped forward and cleared his throat.

“Now… to the criminals who infiltrated our home and slayed the air lion turtle, Yu,” the abbot boomed. Tsering flinched. Many of the bandits cringed, very few of them turning to meet Norbu’s eyes. “You have brought unspeakable evil to our community. You have destroyed our home and displaced our people. But your crimes carry more weight than you even realize,” he emphasized. “To slay a lion turtle is to commit an offense beyond the physical realm.

Perhaps it is of little importance to you, but the lion turtles are among the oldest, wisest, and most powerful beings in the world. Their bending abilities extend past the tangible elements that we know; they may bend all cosmic energy in the universe. Your cruelty has created a rift in this energy.” He paused. Tsering was unaware of the tears on her cheeks until she looked past the bandits to the crowd of Airbenders. Some of them cried quietly as well.

“Your deed will bring you no glory, no riches, and no splendor. It is simply unforgivable, a fact which puts us as Air Nomads in a difficult position, as we are a forgiving and non-violent people.

“Thankfully, the Avatar herself is one of our own,” Norbu continued. “She is the bridge between the physical and cosmic realms. We abbots are mere authority figures in our humble village, but her authority rises above all else in this realm.”

Tsering blinked. As all eyes fell on her, Norbu’s words sank in. Above all else in this realm.

“Avatar Tsering, what do you think is the best way to bring balance to this situation?” Chomdem asked.

It seemed the abbots would leave the decision up to her. Wonderful. Despite having had a moment to freshen up, she still felt like she’d been tied to the back of an ostrich-horse and dragged through the Si Wong Desert, but sure, she could decide the fate of Yu’s murderers right now. She sighed, dragging her palm across her face and stepping forward.

“I believe… I believe we should hear what they have to say for themselves,” she replied, turning her gaze from the abbots to the captives. Many of them paled before her narrowed eyes. She had no idea what she must look like to them right now. “Tell us why you have come here. Tell us why… why you have inflicted this wound upon our world.”

For a long moment, there was silence. The bandits looked at one another, none wanting to be the first to speak to the person who had single-handedly wiped Yu’s back clean of them last night. Then, a figure rose to their feet among the group. Several of the men around them immediately swelled with anger. Tsering’s heart skipped a beat. It was the teenager with the multicolored skin. Without the ability to use their hands, they blew a puff of air to move a strand of curly locks that had fallen over their eye.

“May I speak?” they asked. Tsering was startled. It seemed unlike an outlaw to have such manners. She nodded. The captive bowed their head in thanks.

“My name is Anri,” they said. “I was kidnapped by this gang a few moons ago when they raided my village. They killed my cousins before I could stop them… they tried to kill my sister and I, too, but I fought them off. While I was defending my sister, they must have thought I was a pretty good Firebender, because instead of killing us, they decided to take me with them.”

Anri paused. Tsering was shocked at their outspokenness. It could have been a huge risk to share such a horror in front of the very people that had caused it. She wondered briefly if they were lying, but the enraged expressions of the bandits surrounding them told her that they weren’t. She realized then that they weren’t wearing any war paint, that their clothing was not the same as the mismatched, pilfered getups worn by the rest of the gang. Tsering wondered how she hadn’t observed that before.

“I never wanted to be an outlaw, and I never wanted to kill a lion turtle,” Anri continued. “I thought if I played along with whatever they were doing, I might be able to escape and get back to my sister… Clearly, I was too late to avoid being a part of this. I can’t speak to the gang’s motive, since I don’t know it, but I can say that I am deeply remorseful for the damage that we have caused. You’re right; it is unforgiveable, and I am sorry.”

They sank to their knees, stretching their bound wrists in front of their bowed head. The gesture was incredibly moving to Tsering.

“I can speak to our motive,” a rough voice came from the opposite end of the crowd. A man had struggled to his feet. It was the bandit with the broken leg. He winced before drawing a breath.

“Years and years ago, our leader heard a rumor that those who slayed one of the original bending creatures would be forever exulted in the eyes of man and spirits. One day, he set his eye on the lion turtles, and he could never let it go. He became obsessed, always saying that the life of a lion turtle was the ultimate prize, and that we would be rich with gold and glory if we managed to take one down. But they were impossible to find; Big Man could never figure out how to locate one. His obsession drove him insane… until not too long ago, when he heard that there was a lion turtle lingering in the Eastern mountains.” The man trailed off. Tsering was startled by a sudden pain coming from her palms. She hadn’t realized that she was clenching her fists. She wondered where “Big Man” was now.

The man went on. “The journey here was long and treacherous, but Big Man insisted we come. Sure enough, we found the lion turtle. He didn’t have a plan at all, he told us to just attack with as much force as possible. The lion turtle didn’t fight back. Despite its massive size, it was gentle as a koala-sheep… it brought a great deal of conflict into my heart, and even now, I find myself wondering why we did such a thing.

“Ironically, Big Man fell to his death as we felled the beast. I think that as we watched him fall, a lot of us realized that the only reason we were doing this at all was because of him, and that there was no way we were going to be rewarded for such a thing… but there was no going back.” The man scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “So, we did what we know best: tried to take every valuable thing we could find in the village on the lion turtle’s back and get out of there. That’s, eh, when you came in, Avatar.”

Tsering’s jaws clenched together in the shocked silence following the man’s testimony. If she could Firebend, she was certain she would have burst into flame. Surely, she would have erupted for her dear friend, stolen from this world forever because of a single man’s delusions. A man who hadn’t even lived to see how futile his efforts would be in bringing him triumph.

If only she had been here. If only she had returned just a few days sooner, she could have stopped them.

Welling up within her was that same searing anguish and desire for revenge that had plagued her in her younger years. She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her palms to her temples as the emotions crashed over her. The meditative breaths that had helped her through so many troubled times were shaky and inconsistent, like a trapped bird struggling to free itself. Tsering could feel the trigger response of the Avatar State deep within her body, a tiny bud threatening to blossom out of control. She wanted to sink to her knees and scream, to hide her face and run away and set the whole cliffside ablaze. But she couldn’t. Revenge is a two-headed rat-viper, Miksha’s words echoed in her mind as if she were saying them to her now. As you watch your enemy fall, you are being poisoned as well. She was an Airbender, a child of peace. She was the Avatar, a symbol of balance. She could not let her rage and fear take the lead again.

She opened her eyes. Countless eyes stared at her, but she had nothing to say. How could she possibly decide what to do with the people who had blindly followed their deranged leader into committing one of the most heinous acts in the known world?

“Avatar Tsering,” a voice snapped her out of her spiral. It was Anri. They had risen to their feet again. “If I may propose a course of action so that you don’t have to…” Their voice was soft, and they paused to wait for Tsering’s nod. “We all saw you last night, when your eyes and tattoos glowed, and you summoned three different elements at once to use against us… there is no other human alive as powerful than you, no one else who even deserves exultation. You are the Avatar.”

Anri paused to take a breath. More of the bandits turned to look at Tsering now, awe twinkling underneath the fear in their eyes. A rousing breeze sent golden leaves flickering around the camp like the sparks of a flame. The bound Firebender went on.

“We have wronged you and your people. We have caused irreparable damage. We deserve no mercy, yet you are merciful. So, let us take responsibility for our actions, then, and make it up to you. Let us aid you in righting our wrongs by serving you. In my opinion, it’s the least we can do.

“I pledge my life to you, Avatar Tsering,” they professed, lowering themself onto one knee without waiting for a response or rebuttal. “I vow to serve you for all my days, to offer any assistance I can in helping you bring balance to the world.”

For a moment, there was only stunned silence across the gathering. Tsering stared at Anri. They gazed back at her. The Avatar’s head spun as her mind mapped out the multitude of different paths spreading out before her in every direction. This was a way to bring the bandits to justice without compromising her and her people’s values. The pillagers may have destroyed their home, but they could help them rebuild it. She could sense that Anri was being genuine, that they were literally putting their life on the line for everything they had said already.

Lobsang rose to his feet.

“You are not seriously considering this, are you?” he turned his question towards the abbots, towards Tsering. “How can we possibly trust these people after everything they have done? How can we possibly welcome them into our h– our land?”

Several of the Airbenders shouted their agreement with the young man’s sentiment.

“How would we ensure they honor the agreement?”

“Where would they stay? Who would take care of them?”

“What if they escape and hurt us again?”

The tension between both groups rose to a palpable strain. Tsering buried her head in her hands. It was too much.

“Does anybody have a better idea?” Xiuying’s voice flashed like fire across the crowd. The quiet that settled over everyone was enough of an answer to her question.

Tsering looked down to where her friends stood. Numa stared at the sea of bandits, her face stony. She achingly wished the Earthbender would turn and look at her. The teenager felt Miksha’s hand rest on her shoulder.

“Maybe we should take a break and wait to make a decision,” the abbot said gently, her tone telling Tsering she was trying to soothe her. The Avatar nodded, clenching her jaw. Maybe we should have waited to have this entire trial.

“We will convene with the Avatar tonight and resume tomorrow,” Miksha addressed everyone. It seemed everyone was equally tired of trying to come to a consensus. Many of the Airbenders wordlessly made their way for the huts.

Tsering hadn’t noticed that the sun was setting. She hadn’t noticed the exhaustion seeping into her bones. She hadn’t noticed the hunger clawing at her stomach. The abbots floated down from the boulder and began speaking with several of the senior monks and nuns about where the bandits should sleep tonight, about how much rice there was, about treating injuries and finding clean water. Sho had joined the conversation. Xiuying and Numa offered their arms for Tsering to jump down into.

“I’m so sorry they put you on the spot like that,” Xiuying grumbled into their hug. “You may be the Avatar, but you’re still a person. You’re going through just as much pain and grief as they are.”

Tsering sighed. It had been a long time since she was in her guardian’s presence, but Miksha’s behavior seemed especially out-of-character. Everyone’s probably all mixed up inside from what happened.

“I need to talk to Wan,” she finally said when they pulled away. “I need his guidance.” The girls nodded. “I need to go somewhere where I won’t be disturbed, away from everyone else’s energy,” she went on, “and I know exactly where to go. Will you both come with me?”

“Lead the way,” Numa replied, squeezing her arm.

Chapter Text

Despite the fatigue, Tsering rose ahead of the sun. Before this day began and difficult decisions were made, there was something else that needed to be done.

“Wake up, darling,” she whispered to Pingdeng, rubbing his nose. With a soft mumble, his gentle eyes slowly fluttered open. “I have something I need to do… will you come with me?” she asked. The beast huffed in agreement, rising quietly to his feet and shaking the sleep from his pelt.

A thick fog hung in the chilly air as the Avatar and her bison made their way down the cliffs, into the stillness of the valley. Muted even more by the dense haze, the quiet was haunting. Tsering shuddered as the silhouette of Yu’s body appeared, unmoved from where it had been left just two days prior. Pingdeng seemed hesitant to land so close to the lion turtle, grumbling in discomfort at the proximity to the corpse. In silence, Tsering jumped from the bison’s neck and stepped forward. Time seemed to slow as the Airbender gazed up at her dear friend. The seconds crawled by as she worked up the courage to begin Wan’s ritual. Strangely, the Avatar felt completely at peace as she closed her eyes and evened out her breaths. Despite the intense hush, the ground below seemed to hum to her, the moisture in the air whispering wordless encouragement.

Tsering summoned a cloud to lift herself up to Yu’s face. She reached out and traced the swirling markings on his forehead, finally resting her forehead against his. Her tears glistened in the pre-dawn indigo overhead as they trickled over his skin.

“Yu… my dear friend,” she whispered shakily. “I will always love you.” Tsering paused, imagining the lion turtle’s eyes opening to rest on her as she etched the feeling of his skin forever into her mind. “A part of you will live on… in me. In my memory. I promise.”

Reluctantly, she withdrew from him, landing back on the ground with a sigh. The Avatar closed her eyes again as she channeled the swirling energy of the elements around her, blocking out everything outside of the valley. She let herself become simultaneously grounded and untethered as she reached out for Raava and Wan; she needed them for this next part. Her eyebrows furrowed. She had never summoned their spirits at will, she thought, unsure if she could do it. However, as she breathed, the peace that enveloped her grew into a tangible light inside her. Knowing that her and Pingdeng were safe, she let it out. The Avatar embraced the fog, reaching out and pulling it into currents as the light spread across her tattoos and out from her eyes. With calm, fluid movements, she directed the streams of mist to flow around Yu’s body. In contrast with the last time she was in the Avatar State, this time felt completely different. Tsering was in full control of her power as she let it flow through the rings of vapor in a scintillating glow around her friend’s body. She moved her hands and arms in a hypnotic rotation and then pulled them upward. The light slowly engulfed the lion turtle’s frame in a blinding glow, then rose into the sky and dissipated, twinkling like stars migrating across the sky. Tsering pressed her palms together as she bowed, sobbing.

“Go, and be at peace,” she cried softly.

Tsering gasped as Yu’s flesh suddenly hardened, turning to stone before her eyes. She couldn’t believe it – with his spirit freed, he would be forever immemorialized here. The morning sun rose above the peaks and illuminated her friend’s final resting place, as if by divine timing. Pingdeng lowed, pushing his forehead into Tsering’s back. With the remaining glimmer of the Avatar State shining through her, she turned and hugged him. His arrow and eyes glowed briefly along with hers before their light faded together. If there was any doubt inside about the strength and sanctity of their bond before now, Tsering was relieved of it.

Pingdeng roared as the ground abruptly began to shake violently. The Avatar clutched his fur for stability. An earthquake? They weren’t uncommon in this region, but this was a large one, and it kept growing in intensity.

“Pingdeng, let’s g–”

Tsering was cut off as she turned. From a gaping pit that had opened in the earth behind them, a lion turtle emerged. The Avatar’s jaw fell open. This creature had different markings and a vastly different energy than Yu; she was certainly not Tsering’s friend. Still, she looked at the teenager as if she knew her.

“Avatar Tsering,” the beast’s voice boomed. So, she did know her.

“Y-yes?” she answered, stupefied. The sunlight shone in her eyes, obscuring her vision. Was this an illusion?

“I have come to you on behalf of the rest,” the lion turtle said slowly. Tsering knew that she meant the other lion turtles, however many of them there were. “You had a sacred bond with one of our kind, and now, you have guided him to the spirit world. For this, we thank you. You have demonstrated a deep care for and understanding of bending, Avatar. We would like to teach you one more element.”

Tsering blinked. There were more than four elements? How was that possible?

“This element is beyond the physical four,” the lion turtle explained, as if she had perceived the Avatar’s questions. “It is reserved for those few whose energies and spirits are unbendable, and who can be trusted with the energy and spirit of another.”

The lion turtle extended her massive claws towards Tsering. She touched one claw to the girl’s heart, and one to her tattooed forehead. The contact sent a dazzling energy coursing through her, from her scalp to her fingertips and toes. Despite having had a direct interaction with the spirit of light herself, Tsering had never felt a sensation quite like this one; it felt somehow as if the lion turtle was gifting her another aspect of her own spirit that had been missing. It was painful and relieving at once, a searing heat and freezing chill together – this was no illusion. Tsering understood what it meant. She bowed deeply to the lion turtle in the traditional Air Nomad way.

“Thank you,” the Avatar breathed.

“Thank you, Avatar,” the lion turtle responded simply.

Without another word, she sank back below the ground, and the pit was closed. Tsering wondered if this lion turtle, with her earthen energy, had been the one to turn Yu’s body to stone – to ensure he would never rot away. She sighed, turning back to face the rock which held his shape. Lion Turtle’s Rock, forever resting below Lion Turtle’s Cliff. What a special thing, she thought, to have witnessed him become part of their land. A bittersweet sadness washed over her, and she let the tears fall yet again. Soon, everyone would be awake, and it would be time to change the course of her homeland forever. Tsering felt much more prepared now to face what was to come.