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Chapter Text

Gölet

My heart and head hurt, my eyes felt like they were dripping with water, my torso felt like it was broken, bruised and battered. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this, like I was in a human’s body. But here I was, half in and half out of the mortal plain of being. Kahin made a sound similar to a gag behind me, it seems the library had a silent affect even over the more loud-mouthed spirits. Wan Shi Tongs’ library echoed our nonexistent footsteps, as though mocking us on our lucid form in this state. Kahin, who was very well travelled, let out a large sigh, followed by a choking noise, a soft laugh and a rather loud yell, sending my senses into a jump as my body tensed at the loud yelp.

“Kahin, warning.” I hissed as a fox fled away from the two of us. A few of Kahin’s mouth curled up. Fuck, I made the crucial mistake with the spirit of the word, I spoke. Before I could stalk away to find Wan Shi Tong, he opened his big mouth. Predictable.

“Oh please, you know what this plain does to me, isn’t that why I got a ban from the mortal realm all those kunen-mo ago? Seriously, a ban, you know that was the first ban I got? if I’m really thinking, I convinced Sacha to make all those tiny trees, and, oh, what are they called now? Bushes, thought it was going to be a waste of water, and Sacha’s time, and her spirit, and Mori had to go and get that round table up and Sacha was wailing and the forest partly died and Hei Bai got so pissed at her cause she let some of his forest die you had just moved around Wù zhǎozé and then you got pissed cause that tree that wraps around the spirit plane, you know the one, you know Sacha, she said that you had moved some of the vine water and that because…” That was the moment I stopped listening. Seriously, fuck this guy, ever since the humans discovered ‘lying’ he’s been an absolute nightmare. Fuck though, he’s a good storyteller, and, well, a mostly good influence. Sharing the stories of the different nations, and ideas and the spread of knowledge reaching others before the scrolls could. But, now I’m stuck with him for the next four nettaiya. Stupid spirits Kahin gets on my nerves.

Wondering the library was dull, but what wasn’t in the mortal plain. My head fluttered with thoughts, and all of a sudden I lurched forward, stumbling were I shouldn’t, spirits don’t fall. Fuck my head hurt. It was happening directly again. That sick humanly feeling I get when I spent time in the mortal realm, it felt like passing trough millions of humans at once, giving me that twist of crushing emotion. Kahin stopped.

“Gölet, is it happening?” I nodded my head in response. Kahin sighed, eyeing me strangely. It was no secret here, in the spirit world, that I was one of the many spirits that couldn’t take being in the mortal realm in our natural form.

(Unless you wanted to feel like your essence was being dispersed, and utterly torn apart, losing your sense of self, the type only immortals and gods tat have seen few to many moons have, before you, yourself, start short circuiting, and your left with a shattered mind and you’re scattered over the world. (yeah, not fun, every single spirits worst fear)).

But unlike the other spirits, I had never taken on a suited mortal form, I’ve only ever looked, twisted myself like this, which in a plain that doesn’t support the lucid type, does a toll if your not careful. Most pickup an animal persona, twining themselves with symbolism and superstitions surrounding the animal. It’s a good guise.

Kahin, the spirit of the mouth, doesn’t feel this affect, most of the more directly human related spirits have no issue existing on all plains of being, but that means more of the human related spirits, like Kahin, are barely heard of. There are scrolls of him down here in the library, that tell amazing tales, (though you could just ask him yourself). But nobody knows the correlation between being able to pass through plains with ease, and being worshipped and known. And if you ask me, and you are not to repeat this to Kahin, he is one of the most important spirits. Seriously, where would the world be without speech?

“Gölet,” He let out ten breathy sighs, “I think you should… do it.” My eyes widen in shock. fuck, was he seriously saying that?

“Seriously?” I ask, shooting him a look. He frowns, his mouths scowling.

“You know how I feel about it, you basically fuck off for half a kunen-mo, and leave me and Shinogu to cover. Not to mention Tui and La get a bit pissy when you don’t show up on your usual pond cleaning duties…”

“We both know I do more then that.” I shot back at him.

Kahin was stumbling over his words, shit. “But if you need, well, that, to be prepared for this, then you need to do it. You know what Agni will say, and, oh, you need to tell Tui and La, don’t worry, me and Shinogu will cover, Gyeolsa will help,” He paused, “No, no this is a good thing, we need footmen for this anyway, now we don’t have to worry about rounding up the Sprites.” He shot me a smile.

“You know I don’t actually remember anything when I do this, right? None of us do.” Even though Kahin was a pain, being spirit of the mouth meant he always knew exactly what to say. A bundle of knots in my stomach loosened. None of this was right, Spirits shouldn’t feel like this, like humans. I’m letting myself get lost in mortality.

“I’ll remind you.” He said it so firmly I almost believed him. It was the infliction that threw me off. Spirits, by nature, are gullible being, so that’s why Kahin is so ‘dangerous’, he manipulates more than I can imagine, I’m sure I’ve been fed lies too, though I would have no idea what those lies would be. “How long has it been,” he asked softly, “since you went into the mortal realm in that form?”

I reached through my mind to find that last time. I could remember last time so clearly, it was, to me, to that version of myself, one of the best lives I had. It was filled with her laugh and the feeling of humidity, and the coldness of the plants touch, and the warmth of theirs. I really fell into that life, I completely forgot what it was like to be my soul and became lost in the rhythms of humanity. I had completely forgotten myself, and when I returned here, that scared me. This is what I was, a spirit, not human, and no amount of form shifting could change that. But it had in that life, it had changed, and now, remnants of that lifetime, slipped into my conscious, and the human I had forged in that life, screamed and begged  me to answer if this was what he always was, a spirit, trying to escape his duties and trick himself and convince the world that he was more then a poised and dutiful spirit, with no sense of authenticity, or self. That version of myself was normally quite wrong about these sorts of things.

“Maybe, two kunen-mo? Maybe three?” I whispered, looking down.

“Three kunen-mo? I’ve got to give it to you, you’ve got resilience, Agni has only been able to make it through longer than you.” Kahin looked at me, his mouths in tight lines. “This is good, we need footmen, this is perfect, but you should go, just to make sure you’ll be ready when it hits. These next human years are going to be the greatest they’ve needed the spirits since last… fuck, I cant even remember, humans are so needy, you know, and if they need us this bad then something going on that will shake us up too. We’ve had the paths closed since the Avatar, now I think it was the first, or the second, wait what was his name, it escapes me at the moment, Wa- something…”

I let out a groan, half of annoyance half because a ripe hit my… gut, maybe? I’m not exactly sure of the human anatomy when I’m not in the human anatomy. I think I was stabbed there in a past form, maybe a two or five ago? Probably five, I had been stabbed a lot in five lifetimes ago, it was a lifetime I remembered distinctly. That version of myself, Ha-Jun was my name then, was usually silent in my mind, I think he might still be in a bit of shock, or denial, or both. Though sometimes, after the other had finished rattling my brain, he would whisper twisted sorts of things in the corner of my mind, he was a version of myself that scared me, he reminded me that even I was not safe from giving into that echo of mindlessness, the one that lizard-sharks have when they operate on instinct alone. The mindless brain of order, and mechanical killing to survive, no emotion, no grief, no thoughts to call their own. That is what I feared about humanity. Their depraved mind, and that’s why I hated going there, I didn’t know what the world would twist me into, I was a product of my environment. I was not my own, I had no control.

“Please, you know I can’t help, humans are useless, to spirits, aside from general maintenance on the ‘sacred spaces.’” I shot Kahin and smirk and he let out a chuckle. “I can’t believe you convinced them all to build those temples for us, I mean, what a waste of material. They know it just has to be practical right, like only the ‘Sages’ and the ‘Nuns’ will be useful, the duties they carry is the only thing we care about, not how they dress or if they create tiny little humans or not,” I snorted “Frankly, I know Tui and La don’t care about the offerings of the water tribes enemies, and Agni said something similar a while ago, you know Tui made me go down there and tell them to cut that shit out, it was making her feel faint. I said it a lot better then that though. You should have seen me Kahin, I was all like ‘Your sacrifice displeases the spirits, alter your mistake, or you will feel the full wrath of La!’” I laughed, “it scared the shit out of them.  Now they do some dance ritual instead, which Tui and La both like a lot more.” Kahin beamed at me.

“Is that why your being no fun now? You used it all up with that announcement!?” He smiled, “If I knew you could be lying little trickster, I would have been way more eager to come down to this place with you.”

“Well, it’s not like I was jumping at the opportunity to spend time with gabber mouth here,” I shot him a look when he feigned offence. “Seriously, could you talk any less?”

“And could you be any more stupid? Asking the literal embodiment of talking, to shut up? You should stick to you puddles, pond scum.” Kahins’ eyes lit up as he realized the double entendre. A groan escaped my lips and I tried to shoo him away from my spot on the floor of the library.

“Shut the fuck up Kahin,” I rolled my eyes.

“Do you get it? Pond scum, because that’s part of your duties, and because scum is an insult, do you get it Gölet, do you? I didn’t even get it till I said it, though, that happens a lot, I don’t really need to think before I speak, I often don’t have a lot to say on my own, most of my words are words already being spoken, or ones that have been spoken or one that-“ another movement from an invisible force and suddenly I lurched forward. Fuck, those voices were getting louder now, and I could feel my soul fighting to stay in control. Another lurch. I sat bolt upright as a pain rang through my head, and all of a sudden, my arm felt like it been set on fire, a feeling I was used to three lives ago. Kahin gasped. I dared a look.

Skin. Skin was coating my arm like armor, and I had…nails? Is that what they were called? Or fingers, or was that toes?

“Motherfucker.” I swore and my voice was shaky. Kahins’ eyes darted between me and the arm.

“Can I touch it?” He asked. I held out the unsteady arm.

“Go for it.” He grabbed the arm forcefully and my body shuddered with a response. Weird. A sinking feeling entered in my stomach. I was so dizzy, I needed to sit down, I was already sitting. I wanted to sleep, I was so tired, I wasn’t supposed to get tired, spirits weren’t supposed to get tired. I was falling. I felt myself rock forward, into the dark.

~~~~~~

I wasn’t really aware that I seemed to have moved, that I had gone from being on the floor against the bookshelf, to standing next to Kahin. I took a step away from him, turning slightly towards were I was sitting. It was there, were I had been just moments ago, was Bengt. I shot a sideways glance at Kahin, but his eyes were fixed of Bengt. On the man slumped against the shelfs.

I knew who he was, As much as they like forget me, I don’t forget them. He was a past form. The man I had grown to be in the human realm last time I went there. I remembered what it felt like to be in his body, his mind was my own, separated from the Spirit plain of existence. He was as much me as I was myself. I wasn’t possession. Possession requires that there was a soul in the body already, and implies that Bengt and I were two separate entities, when we were the same thing. No, possession requires a takeover, a capture of the body and gaining control. That was me becoming human. And what was happening in front of my eyes now, well this, this was my unbecoming.

“Wow, nice impersonation Gölet!” Kahin said, a bit breathlessly. That’s when he spoke.

“Where am I! Who,” his eyes narrowed. “What. What are you” he pointed at Kahin. Instead of reacting like any other spirit, (as in snaping at the human with a result of Bengt cowering in such a powerful spirits presence), Kahin laughed manically. I didn’t understand, why was he taking shit from this human?

“Wow Gölet! What a show! Are you still there, or has this conscious taken over?” His eyes were still solely fixed on Bengt.

“Wheres Gölet!? Where am I beast?” he said pintedly at Kahin. the human paused looking around, “Where did you take her? Where is Fēn!?” he tried to surge forward, but his feet were firmly on the ground. He screamed, a pure sound of pain. “Beast, unhand my wife! Fēn! Fēn! Darling! Fēn! Are you there Fēn!” His screams echoed around the library, of course, Fēn did not reply, for she was not, in fact, there. Kahin was practically in tears from laughing so much. Out of seemingly nowhere, a knowledge keeper fox dashed towards the human quickly, stopping right in front of him with a book in his mouth.

“We here at Wan Shi Tong Library ask that you, Bengt, human of the Wù zhǎozé, and, Gölet, spirit, guardian and keeper of the sacred waters of Tui and La, keeper of the Spirit Pools, Estuaries and Tidepools, refrain from yelling throughout this building.” The voice came from the fox, though the mouth did not move. The fox turned to Kahin. “We here at Wan Shi Tong Library ask that you, Kahin, spirit of the mouth and spoken word, refrain from yelling and provoking human attackers in this building.” The fox centered itself between, Kahin and Bengt. “Enjoy your stay in Wan Shi Tong’s Library!” and with that, the fox was gone.

Bengt’s eyes were wide, and he whipped his head in every direction, as though searching for something. “Where the fuck am I?” this time the human spoke with a whisper. “Where the fuck am I?” Bengt repeated again. Kahin was seemingly very amused by this, smirking at him, which was apparently the wrong reaction, as Bengt started to yell. “WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING, WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU!” Kahin responded quickly, with a simple,

“What do you think is happening,” as chatty as Kahin was, he had one power over humans that didn’t work on spirits. Getting people to talk. At this, Bengt blinked, the rage visibly dissipating. He cocked his head to the side like a child, as if he didn’t understand what he was hearing. Which would fair, he probably beyond confused with this whole situation. So was I, if I was being honest, and Kahin undoubtedly was as about as bewildered as you could get, he was just a bystander, a third party. This was between me and Bengt.

“I think… I think I’m in the Wan Shi Tong library?” Bengt seemed to ask Kahin. He looked around the room before returning is gaze to Kahin, a blank stare. Kahin gave a nod of encouragement as if to say ‘continue’. “I’m in Wan Shi Tong’s library. And…” he seemed to search his mind for a second. “And you’re Kahin, the spirit of the mouth and spoken word.” He spoke slowly, echoing the words the fox had said. “You’re Kahin. And I’m… I’m…Bengt? Yeah, I’m Bengt, from the Wù zhǎozé. That reminds me, have you seen my wife, Fēn? About this tall, ” He made a gesture to his ears. “Really beautiful, like, stunning, gorgeous really… have you seen her? I told her I would look for her when I got to the spirit world, after… after I died.” He frowned “I died? I did… didn’t I?” his head shook, dropping low so his chin was almost against his throat, neck thing, before immediately perking up again. Humans, so ever erratic. “Why did the fox refer to me twice? Once as myself , the other as…as… Gölet.” He paused, frowning. “I know that name, Gölet.”

“I would hope so, it is your name.”

“No, I’m Bengt.” His frown was turning into a scowl. “I know Gölet. He… he…” Bengt grabbed his head, pulling at his hair. Suddenly, his legs stopped shaking, and he became, well, almost calm. If you could call it that. Kahin and I could both see the anger that pooled under his skin. “Where the fuck is he?” he snapped at Kahin.

“Bengt, I know its hard to understand these sorts of spirit things-“

“Shut the fuck up Kahin,” he said his name like a curse. “Where’s Gölet? Where’s the thing that took my body, and stole my mind? Where is that bastard? I’ll kill him, you know? I’ll kill him for what he did to my life!” He twisted his torso around, a look only an rabid animal can get.

For the first time since I woke up on the other side of the room, since Bengt appeared, Kahin turned to look at me. Not Bengt. He looked at me and I realized, I had lost it. I had lost my body, my physical form to one of the past forms. To Bengt. And now he thinks his entire life he was possessed by an evil spirit, that he had no control his whole life. Which is… well terrifying to even think about really. I had just been watching this whole situation unfold, I hadn’t even said a word. I really was in fucked.

“Listen, Bengt. I get it, not really, it more of a saying really, but Gölet did not ‘possess’ you, and frankly, that’s a really loaded word with a lot of negative connotations to spirits. But he can’t possess himself!”

“What the fuck do you mean?”

“You are Gölet.” Kahin said it as though it was painfully that simple for the human mind to understand. Bengt blinked.

“What?” he hissed.

“You are Gölet, but Gölet isn’t you. Make sense?” Bengt predictably shook his head in dazed manner. Kahin simply sighed. “Gölet.” He spoke slowly, as though he was explaining it to a human, which, shit, he was doing that. “Is a spirit. Spirit lives in the Spirit world. No can go into Material world. Stays here. In spirit world. To go to your world, he changes to a physical body.” Kahin turned to me, “Do you think ‘physical’ is word he’d understand?”

“I know what physical means, idiot,” Bengt spat. “Who are you talking to? Is he there? Is Gölet there?” he turned his gaze roughly in my direction. “Do you hear me Gölet, do you hear me? I’m going to fucking kill you! I’m going to fucking ruin you!” I didn’t know exactly how he planned to kill a spirit with no weapon, but the threat still made me wince. Kahin spoke up again.

“Gölet is you Bengt. When Gölet needs to go the material world for duties, his spirit is placed into an infant that has not yet been seen by the spirit, I mean minutes old. Gölet lives in that body, but he has no memory of his past forms or his ‘life’ as a spirit. Other spirits guide him in these forms to help remind him of his duties. So, while he’s in the material world, he is you. When he returns to the spirit world only after your body, well, dies…he is returned here, his spirit is. And his life of Bengt is compartmentalized in his conscious, so while you think Gölet was ‘possessing’ you. It was you that was parading around pretending to be human, so much, that you tricked yourself as well.” Bengt dropped on the floor.

“I was never real? Is that what you're saying right now?”

“In a sense, you were never a human. But that doesn't mean you never lived.” Kahin said smoothly. “You had a life, didn’t you? You had friends and family, and all humanly things! You did live.” He reassured. Bengt slumped against the wall.

“Why, what did he make me, was I ever even a person? Was I never human?” He sniffled. “What am I?” Kahin turned and shot me a look of pity.

“I don’t think even Gölet knows.” Kahin said softly. Bengt blinked, gazing sadly into Kahin’s eyes.

“I’m tired, Kahin, I just want to see Fēn.”

“Then sleep” Bengt closed his eyes and I saw the opening, I stepped quickly over to him and walked into still body.

~~~~~~

“Hey, Gölet?” someone shook my shoulder. “You feeling like yourself again?”

“Piss off Kahin.” I groaned as my body ached from contorting back to my form.

“Some thanks I get, no ‘Thanks Kahin from stopping my past conscious from killing me’.”

“He couldn’t of killed me.” I scoffed.

“It’s the thought that counts buddy. It’s the thought,” He waved his hand airily. “Has ever happened before? Your other consciousnesses slipping through and taking their physical body back off you?” I stand up against the shelf, groaning slightly from the throbbing pain in my head.

“Never, I’ve heard of it happening though, but that was more like a consensual agreement between conscious and spirit.”

“Gölet, I think you need to go to the material world immediately, imagine this happening in front of Tui and La? Or Shinogu? He’d dob you in straight to Agni and all the high spirits, he has a thing for drama.” I nodded my head slowly.

“Yeah, I have to go…I have to leave, right? I don’t want another repeat of… whatever this was.” I made a sweeping to my body.

“I’ve got this Gölet. Shinogu, Gyeolsa and I have got this. You need to go so we don’t have Bengt repeat, and didn’t you say he’s one of the more…” he paused, as though searching the air for the word. “easy lives you’ve experienced?” I shuddered at the thought of someone like Ha-Jun coming to the spirit world with a physical body.

“Can you get me to Tui and La? I need to get out of this fucking library.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice.” And with that, Kahin linked his arms around my torso and with that, the library slipped away.

~~~~~~

Kahin was doing what Kahin did best, talking. Tui and La were swimming through the milk-colored smoke surrounding us, gliding aimlessly through the fog, creating beautiful patterns and swirls in their wake. Tui and La were creatures of routine, so finding them whirling in tight, controlled circles was really nothing new, but despite this, their curved bodies and polished scales of their form still made my mind feel entranced by the beauty. A rising from my position on the floor, I tried to sit with some level of decorum, which is how Tui immediately knew I needed something.

In the spirit world, there is no real hierarchy of spirits. Yes, some spirits are very much more important than others, but that doesn’t give them innate power over ‘lesser’ spirits. Of course, you know as well as I do that the Humans just love their celestial bodies, so of course Agni and Tui were very high up in terms of worship. Humans also worship the Earthen Spirits, (in their plethora), as well as their Ocean spirit and the many Air sprites. Makes sense right? Humans had the ability to control their elements, particularly these four elements, so of course they’d dedicate so much time and devotion to the ones that ruled their bending. The ones that controlled their great power. Gave them that great power. But though I won’t deny how much of a blessing it is to receive bending in the Material world, I have very often thought that humans do tend to indulge in the awes of this power. Of course, this discovery did come from my own fruition.

In one of my past lives, long before Bengt, I was raised in the Southern Water Tribe with six other siblings. Panikpak was my name then, and out of the six of us, four of us had water bending. I was not one of them. I’m never one of them. While they would go off and be educated to the fullest extent of our tribes’ capacity, the non-benders, Qailertetang, my non-bender sister and I would learn the women’s work, with my aunties who were also non-benders. While my prodigy siblings were praised for the innate take of either healing or the fighting katas, Qailertetang and I would get bustled around the village, cleaning and cooking, as my bender sisters “would not have the time after being in the healing hut.” Qailertetang and I would do anything and everything together. We were inseparable, so much so that people often speculated we must bound by our spirit. She and I were perhaps the best thieves in the South Pole, we could get away with anything, stealing preservatives from the storage hut, taking the canoes out at twilight to the dawn, taking fishing supplies, the threads and fabrics from the families bragging about their new tapestries. No body ever suspected us, who would? Just two non-bender sisters who weren’t particularly skilled at anything.

Over the course my years with my little sister, I grew resentment to the tribe, my mother and father, my siblings who could water-bend. One night, when Qailertetang and I had taken the nets and canoe out past the bay’s protective currents, I told her of how I wished I could water bend. Qailertetang just shook her head.

“Panikpak, if you could water-bend, where would that leave me? Puttering around the village all day being the tribes very own maid? At least now I have you with me! You really wish to abandon this?” She gestured to the pillars of ice reflecting the sunset onto the glassy water. Instead of a crips white, the ice looked a soft orange, the sea an odd green. “If you were a water bender you would never get out of Mum and Dads sight. You would spend all day cramped up in the healing huts, and no matter how much Piguttuk taunts me about given a healing education ‘worthy of a royal’ I know she hates being in those boring lessons were they repeat the point over and over again to hide the fact they have not that much to teach anymore. You really want to be trapped in their world instead of your life of independence?”

“No, I mean, just imagine being seen though? Being addressed not as ‘my daughter’ or ‘my niece’ and by my name. Why’d they even give us names if they never use them? The benders get addressed by theirs. ‘ooooohhh, Piguttuk! Come and heal this! Juatan! Patch this Iglu up for me! Bending this! Bending that! Blah blah blah!’ if I had magic water, I wouldn’t be such a show off!” Qailertetang snorted.

“If you had bending you would never shut up! And it’s not ‘magic’, it's waterbending! And it's -.”

“Yeah, yeah, ‘an ancient art unique to our culture’, blah, blah, blah. Look, I'm just saying is that if I had magic powers, I'd still keep a level of my humility.”

“You have humility?”

“Very funny Qailertetang, I’ll have you know I’m only the second-best burglar in the South Pole.” She shot me a confused glance. “You’re the first.” I pointed out.

“Stop it!” she squealed in mock delight “You flatter me Panikpak. But I would be nothing without my grand accomplice! And together we are the greatest Water Tribe’s men the world has ever seen!” with a cry Qailertetang jumped up onto her feet rocking the canoe violently to the left.

“Spirits Qailertetang! Get down! I’m not saving you if you fall. You’ll be on your own!” That was one of the best nights I ever spent with Qailertetang. We laughed and ate our way through the summer evening, wrapped in our parkas and seal-skin tarps. And when we returned in the dawn, trailing behind our catches that had gotten entangled in the nets, predicably nobody had noticed us missing. They never did.

Later that year, I died.

Qailertetang was inconsolable, and she wept and shrieked when they dragged my bloody corpse out of the water. It was a miracle they had even found the corpse; it had washed ashore unexpectedly; the people of the village assumed me to be washed away with the current. I suspect La had something to do with that. They took my body back to the village and performed my rites there, not that I needed them. I wasn’t ever a human soul. Despite myself, I kept watching over Qailertetang. I watched her grow up, get married to a nice boy, have children, grow old, become an elder, teach the children about the spirits. Some nights, I noticed, when her husband was sleeping, and her children were gone, she would wander out to the stone circles where Panikpak’s body was buried. She would put her head down and kneel, her hands placed on her lap. And she would tell Panikpak her stories, ones about her husband’s travels, her children’s quarrels, our siblings bending feats, though she always rubbed that bit in, teasing me about how I never split an iceberg in two.

Later, many years later, Panikpak and I watched as Qailertetang left this world as well, then we left, back to the Spirit world. Panikpak would never see her sister again. Spirits can’t join human souls in the afterlife. Panikpak stayed silent in my conscious after that.

As depressing as this story is, it taught me a valuable lesson. Humans are creatures of greed, and they lust for power. They will always situate themselves as close to power as they can, and this is almost always their downfall. The ones that learn this lesson in their lives, are always happier, live more full lives than those who don’t. My family, my tribe in Panikpak’s life, cared for bending because they think bending alone means power. By this association human make, this alone makes them laughable creatures.

Even if I was one of the numerous spirits that care for the world’s waters, I wasn’t well acquainted with the praise we received from the water tribes on the other side. I have to admit, they only ever praise Tui and La. Never me, never Ogawa, not Yeongjang, nor Varṣā, Pado, Ām̐dhī, Salkhi, or any of the water sprite. So yeah, feeling a lot of gratitude over in the Water Tribes.
See, that’s what the Earth and Air folk had down pat, they actually worshipped all the spirits. Not just the supposedly all-encompassing Tui and La. Many humans didn’t even know other water spirits existed. Really only the people from Wù Zhǎozé worshipped more than one water deity, as well as many nature spirits. Actually, they primarily revered Sacha and Myself. Made sense, trees and water.

But even though Tui and La were worshipped far more than myself, it doesn’t give them innate power over me. It does, however, give them a lot more power over the worlds, Spirit and Material. With their influence over the worlds, getting to my new human body is a far easier. So, slowly I sat up, preparing for the impromptu meeting.

“Gölet,” Tui cut through what Kahin was saying. “You’re supposed to be at the Library." I looked at Kahin, my eyes darting between Tui, La and Kahin, trying to figure out what Kahin had already said, and, more importantly, how he put it.

“Didn’t Kahin tell you?” I settled on. Kahin gave me a small nod. Tui, rather unimpressed by this answer, pursed her lips.

“That he did. But you tell me. Why have you arrived here, no less with Kahin?” Her voice was full of ice, not doubt she picked that up from La.

“Tui, La, your bodies are in the mortal world, in your pool.” I mean, technically, it was my pool, you know ‘Gölet, spirit, guardian and keeper of the sacred waters of Tui and La, keeper of the Spirit Pools, Estuaries and Tidepools’ that was me, so the pool, did technically belong to me, but I was more of a maid, who also just so happened to be the landlord. Except I could never really kick my tenets out. But I decided now was not the time to bring that back up. “You preserve your state by living fully in the material world. You know it makes you vulnerable, but because you are such… well known, and powerful and important spirits… you know you’ll be protected. No harm will ever come to you as long as the Northern water tribe stands.”

La watched me carefully, his head seemingly moving to the rhythm of which I spoke. Tui seemed a little less interested, her eyes occasionally darting to Kahin, with just a hint of distrust. Nobody interrupted, so I continued.

“Because you are preserved both in the physical world and this one, you have no problems going between the two. And for Kahin, since he is a spirit born of human development, he doesn’t need a physical form in the material world, because at his core, he is a human…thing, for lack of a better word.” Kahin shot me a look of distaste of my language. I winced and mouthed a small sorry.

“And since you and me are both older than the humans we have no connection when it comes for our creation, we are not tied to the humans in a way Kahin and other human-made spirits do. Because of that, passage from one world to the other is…”, harrowing, excruciating, impossible, “Difficult. Its difficult for me, and many other spirits who do not have physical bodies over in the material world, and while most just stay here and do not concern themselves with the physical world, I on the other hand-”

“Have duties there.” La cut through.

“Have duties there.” I echoed, thinking about the preparation I had to go through with Shinogu, and the ways I helped out with Sacha, Tui and La, with Gyeolsa, how I was the practically the errand boy here, and everyone else’s work became my duties.

“I need a physical body, La, I need a body for myself to act as the soul. Otherwise, without this break, the break for my raw spirit from having to withstand the pressure from the human world. I need a body to have the break from the pressure, otherwise I…” I trailed off, trying not to let them know about the incident in the library.

“You need to leave again, don’t you.” Tui said, it was a statement, not a question. She tilted her head in what could’ve been light annoyance or light amusement. I pursed my lips, my eyes focused on the floor.

“Didn’t Kahin tell you about Bengt?” I started carefully.

“Who,” La started. “Is Bengt?” Kahin and I shot each other a look.

“He’s a past human life of mine, the, uh, last one I had.” I treaded lightly “He made a little surprise appearance at the library.”

“How so? Is he not just a compartmentalized version of you? As far as I’m aware, he is not his own soul, so who did he come to be at the library?” Tui asked. I grimaced.

“You’re right Tui, he is just supposed to be a compartmentalized version of me. He is not his own soul, but, it seems he has been, well, restless. He, um, managed to slip through to my, uh, well took control of my form and… I was all of a sudden Bengt again.”

“He was out of control, that’s what he was again.” Kahin muttered to loudly to not be intentional.

“Kahin! No, it wasn’t.” I hissed back. Kahin just rolled his eyes.

“Oh please, you had to wait till he fell unconscious for you to renter your own mind!” There was really no rebuttal to that so I stayed silent, and like a child, I glared intensely at the floor, hoping that it would in some way make this any easier.

“I see,” Tui spoke at last. “So, you’re here to notify us of your leave, and, I assume, to help you find a placement?” And there it was, that was the crux of it really. I needed a body, one that the souls and spirits had skipped over, that would otherwise be a stillborn, devoid of any mind, heart and soul. A body, sure, but a soul is a different thing entirely. What humans forget is they don’t have a soul; they are a soul. They have a body. So that’s what I needed.

“Yes, I…I need placing. I need a body.”

“… and Kahin has talked about you becoming a foot soldier for this event? You are aware of the life you’ll live? It wont be easy like your last one, it won’t be one spent in ignorant bliss.”

Her words stung a bit at that, and a worried feeling washed over me, but it wouldn’t ultimately help anything so I ignored the concern. “Yes, we have discussed it.”

“Poor Shinogu, he’ll be left all alone, for the spirit world preparations for the event, you know how dramatic he is about these sorts of things, let’s see if he ever gets over this one” She giggled under her breath, sending bubble into the air. Shooting Kahin a glance, “and really Gölet, bringing all the world’s most talkative spirit to our Pond? Weren’t the water spirits under express instructions not to share this sacred place with anyone?”

“It was kind of an emergency – “

“I won’t tell a soul – “

“No matter,” Tui’s form slowed and changed, now, she looked like a women, draped in sliver robes, her eyes wide, she moved carefully over to me, floating above the ground. She looked too human in this moment, her appearance not the usual hybrid of human and pure spirit form most Spirits have adopted, but instead, so distinctly human, that it was hard not believe she always was.

Tui made her way across to me as her eyes seemingly darted erratically across the space, searching desperately for something. By the time she had reached me, she had stopped.

“There is a boy in the Southern Water Tribe, he was born moments ago. He hasn’t cried, hasn’t screamed. He was born still. He will die in a matter of minutes.” She raised an eyebrow. “Unless you choose now to intervene? Let this soulless body be your host? Or, stay behind, help us.” But I knew she didn’t want me too do that. I would become too unpredictable, dangerously human. she reached out her hand. I looked around. La was still swimming, Kahin was unusually quiet and Tui looked as calm and poised as ever.

“I’ll find you.” Kahin whispered the promise. “You will pull the event off perfectly, don’t worry about me and Shinogu.”

“Trust me, in this life, I’ll forget even your name, or that there is even a spirit in this world! My mind utterly regresses.”

Kahin shook his head defiantly “No. Not this time.” He said it with such forces that I almost believed him. Almost. I turned back to Tui.

“I guess this is goodbye, for now.” Tui smiled.

“For now, but I think you’ll be seeing us a lot sooner than you’d like,” and she let out a laugh, bubbly and sweet, perfect and polite. Before I could question what she meant, she through her head back and her eyes were widened, she peered into the endless mist. “May you live like a human, By the sun. May you love like a human, by the moon. May you learn like a human, By the earth. And may you have the liberty of a human, and have the freedom from the air.” She smiled. “See you soon, Gölet.” And with a light pinch of my cheek and the kindest smile a spirit has had, she turned to leave. Before I could even say a thing of protest from the endearing pinch, I was already falling down.

~~~~~~

I don’t know how long I was in stasis for, sometimes it takes the spirit a long time or no time at all to cross realms, but I know this. My last coherent thought, my last cohesive memory as Gölet, was someone screaming, loud and fragile, I suspect it was me, but besides that. I remember a woman crying, a man scooping my tiny body out of her arms as he whispered, “Welcome home Sokka.” I liked that name.

Chapter Text

Shinogu

There is very arguably a lot wrong with the world. A lot wrong with the earth kingdom, the water tribes, and I guess the air nomads were also pretty terrible, from the stories I’ve heard. That’s not to say the fire nation is perfect, I’m not stupid. But it’s certainly a lot better than the earth kingdoms and water tribe wiping us out. We are the superior element for a reason, and you would think, you would think, that people of the globe would have a bit more… respect for you being the prince of the nation. If not respected, feared, like my father, like my sister, like any other member of my family, of the army, of the nation. There are two exceptions to this rule.

1. My uncle, who I suspect goes to lengths trying to appear as approachable and friendly, (not to mention foolish) as possible. Sometimes, looking at his demeanour, it’s easy to forget that he is fire nation, whose citizens are the very definition of class and decency. It’s easy to think of him as another earth kingdom fool. It’s easy to forget he in-fact laid siege upon the city of Ba Sing Se for 600 days and nights. Easy to forget he was first in line for the throne once upon a time, that he still sits very comfortably at the helm of the world.

The second exception is me.

 2. I am not feared, I am certainly not respected, and I am the exact opposite of whatever the image of a prince should be. Not poised and graceful. I am lacking all decorum; l lack respect for my superiors and elders. I lack restraint and I do not ever speak in a tone that indicates that I am diplomatic, lacking emotions, trying to do what is best for my people. I am selfish, I am angry, I am about as elegant as a fish out of water. I am currently on a shitty excuse for a warship, sitting not at the helm of the world but instead on an actual boats helm. I am emotional, I am irritated, I am rash, I make stupid mistakes, decisions, comments, and above all, I am desperate. I need to stop the horrible feeling I get when I think about this situation and how I ended up here, I need to get back to the fire nation, I need to be seated where I belong, I need to be at the helm of the world.

So no, I am not feared, not respected, not a real prince. At least I don’t feel like it. But I have to act like it because if anybody, if a single soul in this world or not discovers how I feel. I think I would break. So, I hold myself together, I keep myself apart, I will make myself into the perfect son my father wants me to be. I will become the perfect prince my lord needs me to be. I am my country, I will survive.

But many people don’t seem to know this because they are all stupid people. I hate stupid people. They do not simply ignore me, which is at least tolerable. They are actually stupid enough to believe that they could ever speak to me! And they do! Unprompted, unprovoked, they think they somehow know me, they strike up conversations and make their way on board my ship for my uncle’s music nights. When I stop at ports for an extended period of time, they follow me around, ask question, requests, cut all formalities and act as though we know each other, treat me like I am their friend. It is all quite infuriating. Uncle says there naturally drawn to me because of my kind and gentle soul. Either he’s naive enough to actually believe that, or I’m bad at picking up on the joke. Either way, I hate stupid people.

Now you’re probably wondering to yourself why I don’t tell them exactly what they should do with their questions and losing the last shred of sanity I have left and tell them to fuck off. But I cannot. They are so strange and curious and seemingly so well intentioned that the words can’t leave my mouth. Even more strangely, I seemingly loves to follow their requests because when they ask about music night, I feel like I have utterly lost control when I grab their wrist and take them to the ship. My own thoughts go out the window if they make a request and instead my head fills with only the thought of complying with it. Like I know them, like they are people I’m supposed to make happy, for me to serve them, hell I fulfil their strange requests as one would with a friend, though I have the biggest scowl while doing it. I begrudgingly take them to the market stalls, I talk to them as though they are my equals in any way, shape or form. Who are they? And that’s all I can ask.

I have often wondered why this happens, why I feel small in some randoms presence. Why they feel so powerful to me, even if they do not notice this themselves. I have deduced this down to a single reason. Father. It all makes sense then if you include my father in the mix. It must be some kind of test, a quiz, an exam of sorts. Maybe to prove my status? My… princeliness? It would make sense; my father and grandfather went in similar expeditions with the goal to capture the avatar. So perhaps that’s why so many people treat me so differently. Why they have this innate sense of power around them because they serve the fire lord or the fire sages as much as I do. They test me to push me to be the best I can for my nation. yes, that has to be it, that’s why my family have been such successful leaders in the past and now, well, we’ve got the best fire lord of all time, but I keep that opinion to myself in case I offend Uncles Father, or anger the ancestors. And spirits forbidden they should hate me anymore. Except for stupid people, I know probably the only people who don’t openly hate me is my uncle… looking back… I think my mother, loved me. It felt like it. But I can’t dwell on it because that was over five years ago, and I can’t afford to spend my life searching for answers that are guaranteed to not show up.

When I was five, that was the first time I had met those types of people. Eccentric. Defiant. Stupid. But he wasn’t. He was anxious, yes. Weird and strange, yes. But he seemed so collected. Calculating. It was inside the palace walls. Where I was in the garden, along with several guards and servants passing through the paths. I remember my mother and father were in a meeting. I remember my uncle and his son were in there. I remember having to greet high ranking army generals and politicians, advisors and soldiers, as they walked into that room. I remember how my mother had told me to stay in the garden, stay in my chambers. Not to walk through the doors to that room. I remember Azula in her playroom, probably endangering herself by climbing on-top of wardrobe or windowsill and the Nannies trying to coax her down.

I was in one of the more secluded gardens, the perimeter lined with guards, as I played with wooden toys. I was just sitting there, wooden toys in hand, clacking them together, making incoherent mumbles and making myself burst into laughter with my own imaginary scenes. He walked through the garden path, almost scraping his shoulder on the side of the wall and opened the door to the war council which my parents were seated at. I continued to stare at the door in which he disappeared into, my head tilted slightly to the side, my head trying to make certain on what I’d seen. For one, he was the strangest man I’d ever looked at, his air less than an inch long, his skin dark brown, in far contrast to the fire nations pale skin, and his robes a style that seemed foreign. He would have had to been in his late teens, perhaps early twenties was pushing it. But he moved on the ground the level of poise and posture I have yet to seen replicated. I strive to try to react this every time I feel the need to be particularly authoritative. But there he strode by, disappearing into the war council, that forbidden room at this appointed day. My eyes watched as he opened the supposedly locked room. I looked at the last of his silk robe slipped behind the door. So strange, like I wasn’t supposed to be seeing this. Hours later, when he re-emerged from the war chamber, he let out such a sigh that seemed to carry through the wind, loud in my ears. I wanted to help him. I put down the toys, tentatively making my way over to where the man was slumped against the wall, his head in his hands.

I guess children have a habit on sneaking up on you, I guess I was no exception because the man let out a shocked screech when I gently tugged on his sleeve. His eyes widened when he saw me. An eyebrow raised.

“Sorry.” I had said blankly, still staring up at him.

“Um, hello?” he said.

“Hello.”

“Ummm…” the man’s eyes were still widened. He was studying my face, eyes trying to make me out to be real.

“Why are you scared?” I asked. The man flustered.

“I’m not scared!” he shouted, his face red, but from embarrassment, not anger. I frowned.

“Yes, you are. You did this.” I buried my head in the palms of hands. Bending my knees, I resembled a ball. I looked up at the man, where he stood, smirking slightly.

“I did not look like that.” He said. I frowned.

“Yes, you did.”

“Did not.”

My temper has always had a short fuse. “YES, YOU DID!” I must have screeched at the top of my lungs. Teetering dangerously on the perch of hysterics. The man stunned.

“Fine! Fine! I did! I did look like that! You’re right!” satisfied with this answer, I stopped pouting. He looked down on me. “Tell me, what’s your name?”

“Zuko.” I looked up with wide eyes, remembering my manners, I recited what my mother had drilled me. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, I am Prince Zuko, Firstborn of Prince Ozai, what is your name?” Perfect. The man looked around, his eyes scanning something I couldn’t see. He leant over to me, hands cupped around his mouth as he whispered into my ear.

“I shouldn’t be telling you this,” he whispered, “On the account that you shouldn’t even be able to see me. Agni would have my head if he knew I was seen by a member of the royal family themselves, much less chatting to them. But, I have the feeling I can trust you Zuko. I want you to remember this, can you do that?” I nodded my head enthusiastically, waiting to hear his next words.

“My name is Shinogu.”

The world stopped that day, time slowed, and I felt a heartbeat in my ears. I realized how saying his name would matter. I knew, even at five, I wouldn’t be able to forget him, his name, that day.

It was branded into by brain.

But when I looked up, he was gone, three hours had seemingly past, and I was sitting on my mother’s lap whilst she read to me. Time had gone like that. I never saw him again.

Don’t get me wrong, I saw people like him, stupid people, like I said. You can tell them by their eyes. Their eyes are always… different. Something wrong about them, something imperfect, something too inhuman.

Stupid people were easy to roll your eyes at. I call them stupid out of their ignorance. They can’t help it. I suppose ignorance really is bliss.

Sometimes, when I am truly alone with my thoughts, when the day is gone, and the boat rocks me to sleep. I think about Shinogu, who was he? Was he real? Why do I remember him. Why, why, why?

But the Avatar is the more pressing issue, lately, stupid people have been few and far between. I haven’t seen any in more than a year now, did they exist? No one seems to mention the strange guests at music nights, people I’ve met at markets, those who find their way on the boat. No one, not even uncle mentioned it.

Sometimes, as a test, I would mention their names, their stories, which would have the whole crew captivated. No one had heard their names, no one had heard such tall tales. They came, they went, no trace or memory or memento to show their time here. Only I knew their names, their stories, their faces, their eyes, branded into my mind, like Shinogu. So maybe I was the stupid one.

Chapter Text

Kya

I’m no good with secrets.

I’m like my children in that manner. I’m quite easy to read, my husband often says. The tribe is small. The tribe is close. But even with my talkative nature, the tribe doesn’t know this secret.

I am so afraid. I’m so, so, so, afraid for my daughter. She has me, with her wide and perfect smile, so afraid. I can only think about the day where she wont smile anymore. Where she can’t. When the fire nation will…

I’m so scared. Every waking day since she was born, Katara has me worried. I love her too much to lose her. I can’t live in a world without Katara.

And that’s my secret. I’m more scared for my daughter then my son. He might die too. He might. And I would cry and cry and cry until there’s no water left to cry. But I would live. I would move forward. I could live in a world where he’s gone. I would do it painfully, but I would do it. I couldn’t live without Katara.

I am so horrible. I am so awful and despicable and a terrible person. I am a bad mother.

I would never tell a soul this, never ever. I love my son, I really do. But I’m scared I might love my daughter more.

I never play favourites, I never let Katara get away with misbehaviour, I treat them fairly, I treat them as equals.

I love them both so o much it hurts my heart.

But here’s my secret. Here my deepest darkest secret.

You can tell by his eyes. His eyes are … different. Something wrong about them, something imperfect, something too inhuman. Unnerving. Big beautiful blue eyes. Like mine, like Hakoda’s, like Katara’s. But not, not really. Everyone thought he was going to die. Everyone thought he wouldn’t last more then a couple of days. But I knew, I knew when he first cried in my arms, that he was going to live.

Now he’s nine, and he’s more full of life then the tribe has put together. He has boundless energy and is eager to learn to be a man, even if he’s less than half of his father’s height.

When he was even smaller than he is now, he would ask things, strange things that wouldn’t be strange if he was older, in his teens or a young adult, even if he asked then now it wouldn’t be strange.

But when he was only a toddler, he would ask things, about the spirits. About the world, about how we come to be. About the war, about its affect. Normal questions, completely normal questions, if he were any older.

From a toddler? As a mother you wonder where he hears these things, what clogs are turning in his little head. If I could have one wish it would be to read his mind, to see what he’s thinking. To figure the way his mind works, to know him like I know myself. Will I ever get that chance? Will I ever know what’s in his head?

Spirits I hope so. I hope I’ll understand him better.

It’s like the spirits themselves whisper in his ears, filling his mind with fantastical things, questions and stories that he can’t of just come up with. He must be a very lucky boy then.

~~~~~~

I stared at the Iglu dad had just come out of. The body was draped in cloth. In a tapestry Gran Gran had made years ago, when she had found out Katara was a waterbender. It was supposed to keep her safe. The tapestry had succeeded in that. Katara was safe.

Mum wasn’t.

Mum died, saving Katara.

Mum was gone, and I would never see her again, until my soul made it to the afterlife, until I, myself, died.

And now, it was up to me to protect Katara, I was going to be her protecter, I will die for her.

Yeah, she has my dad, but other people need dad. Nobody needs me, I’m not the chief of a tribe, I’m not a warrior, yet. But when the time comes, she can count on me to save her.

And that’s my final promise to mum, that her death will never be in vain.

~~~~~~

Mums’ funeral was a long one. I had been to a funeral before, for warriors, for the elderly, but I hadn’t really known them.

I knew her, I loved her, just wanted to be in her arms again.

Most of the funeral was spent holding Katara as she sobbed in my coat. She held on to me so tight it hurt, but I didn’t say anything.

Whatever she saw when she ran home, trying to save mum, that had hurt more. I felt it. It hurt more. It had cut her in a place that she didn’t know could be cut.

The day mum died, Katara had died a bit too. She had arranged herself, at the age of eight, into a bigger person. Into an older person.

She was eight, still eight, not yet nine or ten, not an adult, and still a girl. But she seemed so much older than that. It seemed like she had gotten my mother’s eyes. Her older, experienced eyes were now in the place Katara’s used to be.

~~~~~~

Two weeks after her death I made I decision.

The burial ground was a fair way out from the village, it would take you half an hour to walk there, as an adult. As a child, less than half the size of my dad, I doubled that time.

I would have been quicker if I had someone with me, but going alone meant navigating, and unfortunately with no one around, I set the pace, and I was slow.
It was midnight the time I reached the grave site, and I had left at sunset. Granted, it was nearing the middle of summer, but still, I must have walked for two hours. Reaching the newest circle of stones, I dug around in my pockets and produced a small piece of green sea glass. I knew it was wrong, but I made a small hole in the center of the circle and buried the little piece of green glass.

“Hi mum,” My voice was raspy from crying. “It’s Sokka. But you probably already knew that,” I took a shaky breath in. “I’m really sad now, and your gone, and all anyone does is cry, and all I ever do is cry, and I miss you.” And that all it took. Suddenly I was sobbing my side, holding one of the stones, trying to make it her.

“I-“ I choked “I know you love- love the sea glass, so – so I bought you your favorite one,” I patted the ground next to the buried glass.

“I love you, I love you so so so so so much, it hurts that you’re not here,” I looked around in the dark, at the sky. Tears still pouring down my cheeks, “You’d tell me off for this. You’d yell so much about how much I scared you, about how you’d make sure I’d never do that again.” I paused, still holding tight to the stone. “Dad will be scared, and he needs help getting Katara to bed.

She cries so much now. She’s so sad,” I mumbled.

“I don’t want to go, mum. I want to stay here with you.” I gasped, trying to get the air in my lungs. “I’m too scared.”

I stayed curled up around that rock for ages, until I fell asleep, passed out from the exhaustion from crying.

When I woke up, it was still dark, the rock was still around in my arms, and my eyes puffy and my throat dry.

It was a wonder I didn’t freeze to death.

Though it was till dark, I wondered if anyone noticed I was missing. If they were looking, or if my father had crawled up in their bed and cried himself to sleep, like I had, too exhausted and distracted to notice I was missing. Though I knew that was probably the reason, I chose to believe in the latter, it hurt too much to be forgotten.

I pulled myself up and looked around at the graveyard. Despite the tribes small size, the graves here would have gone back centuries, large circles, small circles, some buried in snow, some sitting out and easily visible. Some decorated, some plain.

Ghosts were calling, sitting and ready to talk, to anyone who wanted to listen.

I made my way through the spaces between the stone circles, searching for something I didn’t know. I walked through the centuries, looking and examining the pretty designs on the stone, walking further and further through the past.

I was so far ahead now; I couldn’t see where my mother’s grave was. I was long past any recent graves and well into the forgotten.

I was further into the past that anyone who was alive had been, though the stones should have been gone, the rocks buried and moved, covered with layers of earth, the path presented itself to me, leading me to long passed people.

Until one grave, small and decorated, same as all the rest.

‘Qailertetang’ the stone said, which, in itself was not strange. It was an old name, known, teetering on the edge of forgotten, dying with the people who had it.

What was odd about it is how familiar it felt, like I knew who they were, and I had spoken that name before, though I am sure I hadn’t. like I had read it before, like I had told it before, laughed the name, cried the name, shouted the name, whispered the name.

It was someone I knew. I was sure.

I focused on the words on the stone, my brain desperately trying to read them, trying to figure out if she had been a myth I had been told, or an ancestor I had forgotten.

‘Qailertetang’ I read the stone again. ‘Qailertetang, Spiritual Elder, Rites leader and High Priestess of Tui and La.’

Well, the tribe had certainly diminished in population, there was not priest or priestesses anymore, we barely have any elders who know the rites. I kept reading, there was more.

‘Passed eighty-two years of age. Devoted Wife, Mother and Sister.’ Still more.

‘May Tui and La guide you on your journey home, to see your family again.’

One more line,

‘Reunited with Panikpak, to eternal harmony’.

Now that name I knew. I knew that name. I know that name.

I stood up and walked to a circle, further away, slightly smaller, but I know it was the one. I checked the name, ‘Panikpak’. There was more.

‘Daughter of Natsiq & Kirima. Loving Daughter and Sister.’

One more line

‘May Tui and La carry their child to eternal harmony.’

Panikpak, according to the inscription, died as a child. Her stone was less decorated and grand then Qailertetangs’ was, had no achievements marked on the stone. The circle itself was smaller too, and a smaller stone headed the ring.

Panikpak, had at the very least, died unusually young.

I walked around the circle, as though Panikpak would present herself, tell me where I knew her from. She was so familiar, and so present in my mind, like she was in my brain with me.

“I know you, why do I know you?” I whispered to the stone. Predictably, the stone said nothing.

“I…I know your sister too. Was she your big sister or little sister? I have a little sister. She’s really sad at the moment.” I took a deep breath in. “My mum just died. I’m really sad too. So is my dad.” I took another shaky breath in.

“She died pretending to be a water bender. For my sister. Her name is Katara. She’s a waterbender.” I whispered.

“Dad told me never to say that, but I think I can trust you.” I turned away. “Can you tell mum that I’m okay? I miss her so much, but I’ll look after Katara now. Can you tell her that, Panikpak?”

Like all unpredictable things, it came suddenly. The wind whipped my face harshly and the sea, only a hundred metres away pulled up, waves surging up and up crashing with such force, the droplets form the wave soaked my parka. The wind picked up more howling, screaming, and I took a step back.

“I can’t! I can’t!” the wind seemed to scream, in a voice too familiar. “I can’t! I can’t”

“Stop it! Stop!” I screeched, hands over my ears, pulling my hood over my head. My voice sounded the same as the wind, “STOP!”

“I can’t! I can’t!” the wind continued screaming, it was the most awful sound. The tremble of the waves crashing made the ground shake. The voice was all encompassing, not just in the wind but in my head, screaming in a distinct voice. Panikpak’s. Her voice. I knew it. I grabbed my ears, pressing them against my scalp.

I knelt, the wind, the weather to strong.

“STOP! STOP! JUST TELL HER I’M OKAY! Panikpak! Tell her!”

The world lurched, it went sideways, slipped, and caved in on me. The wind stopped howling. The waves stopped crashing. The world moved to a grey void, and for a second, it was silent.

Until her scream.

I whipped my head around, she was kneeling on nothingness, her shoulders shuddering with every wail. She reminded me of Katara, and her distraught, uncontrollable state. Only the girl here was older. That made it worse. Katara was eight, the girl in front must have been nearly a decade older.

I was right, she had died young. It might had been the only time I hated being so right. She looked maybe fourteen, fifteen maybe. Definitely old enough to do her rituals into womanhood. If she had though, I had no idea.

She held her face in her hands as she mumbled “I can’t, I can’t tell your mother that, I can’t.” She continued wailing.

“Panikpak, I –“ I spoke in her voice, not my own. Her head shot up from her hands and she gave me stare in my eyes. Her eyes were inhuman, they looked like any human eyes, blue like the water tribes, round and wide. Except…except they were inhuman, like I was looking into an animals, looking into a…a spirit.

She spoke in a trembling voice. “What. What do you want from me? I would do anything to be able to see your mother. Because what does that mean for me? I get to see her again. I’ll see Qailertetang again. I get to be with them again, not stuck, the monster that created me. That created us.” He doesn't want you to live, Sokka. He wants to live. Then when you die, and everybody loved goes to a place where they can be together again, you're stuck with the pain that he doesn't bother to heal. I Lived. And I was happy. I was content. I didn't have a grand life. I wasn't powerful or important. But that's better than being forgotten. But here I am now. In the forgotten. With everybody else that he has made. And I'll never see my sister again. I’ll never see my family again. What do you want for me!? What do you want!? What is it that you want!? What is it that you want me to say!? Because one day, when you go, when you leave this world behind, expecting to see your mother and your father and your sister and all those who have left before you, you’ll end up here, stuck with me and him and all the others he's created. So, try not to get too attached, lest you end up stuck as a weeping ghost crying out for her sister, with little boys asking you things you, simply, cannot do!” And with a spiteful snarl, the world returned.

And I was in the graveyard again.

The wind stopped.

The waves stopped.

And I ran, in the dark, in the night, through the graves, through the rings, over stones until I could run no more. And the second my breath returned; I ran again.

Spirits, spirits are real, real real, see them with your eyes real. I was seeing spirits, the dead, the ghosts.

Gran Gran, spirits, what would Gran Gran say? What would Dad say? The tribe, what would the tribe think?

This was bad, this was very, very bad. I – I was, I can’t – I – I.

The world, this world, the tribe at the very least. It was, it was odd to hear a spirit, see a spirit. Even then, calm whispers, an odd reflection in the water. Fate, or something like such, whispering encouraging things inn your ear, giving you a sign you're doing a good thing.

A bad spirit, a curse, a unlucky omen. Like losing your things, falling into the water, empty nets, holes in your boat, or failing ice dodging, that was a bad spirit. Unlucky, an aura of misfortune.

This, this was another level, this had to mean something big. Something catastrophic. I was condemned, I was sure I would doom something, someone, an omen, of more deaths on my hand to come. The war, the end, the tribe, I was doomed to cause something terrible.

There was no other way of looking at it.

This had to mean something bad.

That I was something bad.

I stumbled blindly the dark, praying I get home, praying I get home safe.

I made a different vow then, I a different one to what I made my mother. Different to the one I made to save Katara, no matter what. I made a vow to myself.

To never speak of this again. Never come back here again. Never tell anyone about this or think about it again. I was determined to make it slip into my memories as a dream. Nothing more,
nothing less.

At nine years old, I made the memory turn into nothing more than a distant dream.

Chapter Text

Sacha

The cold, a firebenders’ worst enemy. We hadn’t ported for one and a half weeks, and on the journey to the south pole, we were to days of landing from a little dot on the map called ‘Wolf Cove’, which sounded grander that it appeared on the atlas.

It was Pai Sho night, and even from behind the sealed doors of my room I could hear the whooping and hollering that the crew gave whenever bets were placed or lost, it probably didn’t help that the amount of liquor my uncle had brought at the last port cleared the shelves of several merchants.

Fire benders are known light weights, as any amount of alcohol easy fuels the inner flame, tipping us into a drunken state very, very quickly.

Tomorrow, everything is going to be too loud, to bright and hurt too much. More likely, stash little vials in their uniforms and just ride it out.

So, no drinking for me, not that I drink anyway, not on duty. (I’m always on duty).

I made my way back from the showers and laced up my night robe and made my way back to my sleeping quarters, frowning at the echoing yells coming from the belly of the ship.

My room was full of light smoke, the candles burning a bit to brightly, popping in a way candles would not naturally do. I waved my hand, extinguishing the flames. Curling up onto the mattress, I let myself fall to sleep with the rhythmic rock of the boat. The slosh of the waves drowned out the hollering from downstairs. And soon, I drifted into a deep sleep.

~~~~~~

The first thing I noticed is the light. Then the pain.

I groaned and opened my eyes, it wasn’t sunrise, it was much too bright, and I always rise at dawn anyway. No, it couldn’t be that. Did I leave the candles burning? Had the curtains caught fire? It had happened before.

My eyes shoot open, my hands digging into the grass- wait. Grass? That isn’t right, I’m in my bedroom.

Only I’m not.

I’m in an open field, with an endless blue sky. Stretching on, far beyond the horizon.

So, I’m dreaming? But this doesn’t feel like a dream. It feels too real.

I sit up, looking for any sign, that someone else might be here. Nobody is. There isn't even the song of a bird or the sound of nearby ground being tread on. Its completely still, devoid of any life other than the plants and I. I know instinctively I am completely alone. My back hurts too, from lying on the ground, I stand up and stretch, or at least, I try too, before I can stand up straight, the field moves from underneath me. It’s like world decides to spin, ignoring my own centre of gravity, and before I can orientate myself, the ground loops around me.

Now I am standing in a forest, dark and full of pine trees, though now I can hear the sounds of animals, talking to each other, the sounds echoing around me.

I took a step forward, the crunch under my bare feet felt real as well.

I took one more step forward and the world lurched again, tipping me onto my front. My knees were scuffed, and my hands felt raw and grazed. Was this a dream? It didn’t feel like it, but then, what other explanation was there?

Looking at my hands, they weren’t visible, covered in elbow deep mud. pulling them out, I looked around, around a dark swamp, dark and humid. It was a place I’d never been. I walked a few steps, and the dream had finally determined on a setting, because the ground, although covered in mud, and dirty water, didn’t tip over me into an entirely different place.

I walked, but in the way, dreams do, I never got any further. I walked and walked and walked but my feet felt stuck, but even more weirdly, I didn’t mind. Yes, it was certainly a different pace of what I was used too, but for the first time in a while my dream was easy to focus on, peaceful, content.

The swamp was thick and full of shadows. Foggy, full of smoke, it was messing with my head, making me hazy, making my breath be drawn in longer and deeper. I was getting more and more exhausted with each step, the haze of the swamp gaining more and more heaviness, the air, once humid and wet, now turning into something more thick, full. And yet I could still taste smoke with each breath. The one of burning wood and salt, it reminded me of Ember Island, and the break from the humidity the wooden bonfire would give us. It was so heavy and weighty, it was like water, not air.

Now my head wasn’t clear. I was stumbling, falling, the air mostly smoke. No, this didn’t feel right, something about this was wrong. I tried to stop; I tried steady myself and focus. And I figured it out, I couldn’t breathe, and now I was gasping for air, grabbing at my throat, as if it would help. How did I let this happen, how did I not notice the lack of air fading.

“Help!” I choked the word out, a bark without any force. The smoke grew thicker. It was a pointless shout anyway, who was it even directed too?

I tried to get myself to wake up, perhaps my room was really on fire. Maybe the curtains and the sheets were burning around my sleeping body. And everyone was downstairs, to drunk and to loud to notice anything wrong. Maybe I would burn to death in my own room, with not a soul noticing till morning.

Uncle would mourn, I knew this, in my heart I knew, but I was always just a poor fitting patch for the Lu Ten shaped hole in his heart.

The crew, oh, spirits how they would breathe relief, they probably would hurriedly rush to our messenger hawks, stuffing in multiple messages to home, to the loved ones they hadn’t seen in, spirits, almost three years, telling them in barely disguised joy, how they’re coming home.

I let out a strangled scream. ‘wake’ I screamed internally, ‘wake up Zuko! Wake up!’

“MMMRGHH!” my croaky voice let out, before I was coughing and coughing, choking for the relief of air. My body begged me to breathe deeper, as though it would let in the oxygen I needed.

The water covering my feet, caught me falling. I was lying down, in a position on my side, the scar on my face completely submerged. I breathed again, water flooding my mouth and nose, causing me to continue choking, on water, swallowing and spitting at the same time.

I had that delirious realisation that only dying people have.

I’m not dying.

This isn’t real.

This is… is… a dream?

“Oh no!” a light voice said. She tuts. “Come on now, not again!” she sighs exasperated.

Dreaming?

“Come on little one, chin up. Up you get.” Her tiny hands lifted me into sitting. “You can do it! There you go little one, you’re ok, you’re ok, love.” Her hands gently rubbed my back, lightly
patting it to encourage me to choke. The world came back into focus, slowly, the cool air flooded my lungs.

She was a child.

Definitely, she was tiny, round face and still the undying light in her eyes. No, that wasn’t light, it was… something wrong about them, something imperfect, something too inhuman. I’ve been here before, at least in her eyes I have. She tilted her head.

“Are you back with me, little one?” a small voice in my head is pissed off that she called me little.

She giggled “You’re right, you are taller than me now, little one,”

“Where…am I dreaming?” I ask. She frowns, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Did you not mean to come here? Did you fall asleep and wake up here?” she asks.

“I…” I try to straighten myself out. “I’m dreaming. Now, who are you?”

Oh, that’s a mistake, I knew her name. I didn’t know her. Did I? I didn’t think so, but she was so familiar, it seemed impossible not to know her. But of course I did, I knew…her? Her name? Her face?

A figment, most likely, of my imagination, a character in my dreams, that only my world knew.

“Sacha,” she laughed, “But you know me, don’t you, Zuko?” she smiled. “You’re quite famous here, I must say, almost as popular as Gölet, though he doesn’t count in my opinion, but nobody
ever asks me much,”

I find myself scoffing. Well, of course I’m famous. I’m the banished prince of the fire nation, who has been sent on a wild goose chase to find the avatar and got half his face burned for dishonouring his nation, his people, his Firelord, his father.

“Oh no, not for that little one, I’m sorry. We don’t keep track of your events here. I mean-“ she sighs “I mean for, well, this.” She waves her hand over me.

“You just gestured to all of me.” I shake my head, “No, sorry, I need to wake up. Goodbye… Sacha.” I force myself to ignore what that name does to brain, how that reminds me of something I feel like I’ve forgotten, how, in almost every way she reminds me of him, of Shinogu.

In all fairness, I do my best to try and stand, but I can’t I look down. Plants and vines have covered my legs, my waist tying me to the tree I’m slumped against. “Let go.” I say, my voice almost disembodied, not as mad or angry as I should be.

She shakes her head. “We’re not all good. I’m sorry, but in here, we’re all just like humans, though we won’t admit it. We are good and bad too. We have different motivations. But here’s safe. My family aren’t all like me, if they come, you’ll be stuck here for a lot longer. I’ll keep you safe for now, I’ll wait with you.” Judging by the anxious expression on her face, I doubted her ability to defend herself against her ‘family’ as much as she did.

I was too tired to argue, and I was interested. Did I know her or not, was she like him?

She finally sat next to me, on a lily pad that definitely wasn’t there before. We sat in companionable silence for what felt like stretched eons. Strangely, I didn’t mind.

“What do I look like, Zuko?” she blurted out after a while. If I was in my right mind I would’ve scoffed, doubted her question. “Can you see me? Like, really see me?” she quired even further.

I frowned, “Yeah, I can see you right now,”

Rolling her eyes, she smiled “Well, what do I look like then?” Well, I had to focus on that. Her features were swimming and nothing was clear.

“You look like… your eyes are…” my head lolled back without my permission. Very action here was too exhausting.

“Its ok, the swamp is a strange place. It’s my older brothers place really. But he’s good and kind if not very annoying.” She smiled, a little fainter then before. “He always has a little sister you know. Wherever he goes, whenever he goes. He… I think, the unaversive does it so in some way. He always has some twisted version of me. Her name is Katara now. Or was it Qailertetang? I’m sorry, I forget about his other little sisters. They live such short lives; you are such insufficient beings.”

My head nodded, even though my heart found a spark of protest, it felt the need to argue my life was sufficient.

“You shouldn’t be here yet.” She said with a lot more force than what she’d be using. “I’m sorry, but goodbye little one.” She kissed my forehead. “May the spirits guide you!”

I watch as she stood up and ran off into the swamp, Laughing, sounding like sweet little bells.

The sick smell downstairs woke me up. Opening my door a masked solider in bed robes and a beat up helmet was stumbling down the hall coughing fire up, which is normally a tricky skill to
master, however when you are fucked up beyond belief, you’d be surprised at what a litre of straight alcohol can do to a firebender.

And that…girl? Was it a dream, spirit talk? Uncle would know, uncle is wise about this sort of stuff.

But right now he’s most likely downstairs stumbling for a pai sho tile that he is insisting he can play even better when he’s drunk tipsy and has a few drinks in him (last time he brought liquor for a night like this, I found him sleeping in a steam engine burning coal. I banned a lot of his pit stop privileges after that.)

So, in the morning then. In the morning, I would talk to uncle.

Except that night when I fell asleep again, like dreams do, it disappeared from my memory.

Chapter Text

UNDER CONSTRUCTION, EXPECT NEW CHAPTER AT 10:30PM INDOCHINA TIME!