Song for this Chapter: Your Guardian Angel
Waking up with a start, he roughly pushed the satin sheets aside and sat up in his plush bed. He ran his fingers through his shaggy mane, his brows furrowed. A cold sweat covered his tense frame as he willed his heartbeat to calm. He had the dream again…
He watched, as she stood at the top of the dais, unmoving. Her slender form faced the harsh Sun, arms outstretched, as if beckoning a lover. The red rays of twilight dancing across her silken white garments.
His blood ran cold as an ethereal horn blasted, and instantly he remembered this sacred place. Fear gripped his heart, as he knew the woman standing before him was not of Fire Nation descent. She did not even have an offering… Would the fire masters deem her worthy of their presence? The ground shook suddenly, and he bolted up the steep steps the led to the dais. He had to try and protect her from the oncoming judgment.
He had but a single step left to make when the dragons, Ram and Chaw, swiftly emerged from their lair. He stood frozen to the spot, not three meters away from her willowy frame. The creatures paid him no mind as they circled the maiden positioning themselves on either side of her. The masters taking in a deep breath before opening their mouths.
He wanted to scream; jump up and push her away, but he could not move. His feet fastened to the step. A pungent smell wafted to his nostrils, making him sick to the stomach.
The thus judged woman turning her head slightly and gave him a small smile before the flames consumed her.
--
Just who was this woman, Aang wanted to know, and why was she willing to succumb to the flames? With a weary sigh, he decided to go out into the garden and meditate, hoping to dispel the ominous feeling the dream always carried.
He sat on his meditation chair, listening to the sounds of the makeshift waterfall. The sound of the water trickling over the pebbles below. His eyes focused on granite and obsidian within the rock garden, and the warmth from the lit lanterns around him. When his breathing evened and heartbeat slowed, the last vestiges of Self left and he entered his Avatar state.
In his parallel realm he smiled, looking at the golden-life links with everyone he loved.
He took hold of Uncle Iroh’s string and found him sitting under the pavilion in his private garden. A fresh sheet of Mulberry paper spread out, ready for the man’s graceful brush strokes. The older man looked lost in thought as he sipped thick matcha tea and the disembodied Avatar scrunched his nose, knowing that Iroh was feeling glum. He only drank the powdered bittersweet drink when he was not feeling like “jolly Uncle.”
Next, he plucked at Toph’s string. The newly elected Fire Lady ate her breakfast in the library with Suki. She listened as the older warrior read to her a volume; she smiled brightly before the pair burst out laughing. He smiled warmly at the sight.
Though Suki seemed to be healing nicely physically, her aura seemed to appear otherwise and he frowned at this. She no longer jumped at the sight of guard, but resentment permeated her being. Azula had not only tortured her body but her mind, poor Suki…
He followed Sokka’s next. His long time friend and travel companion seemed to be moving erratically. Through the palace halls and out into the gardens, up trees and then up the inner wall, to a watchtower. Momo was with him, both looking out into the distance. He knew what was on his friend’s mind, he was thinking about Suki. Sokka was concerned for her, and he knew that his friend held an invisible weight on his shoulders. He blamed himself for not finding her during their failed eclipse invasion. After which, Azula had inflicted the bulk of the warrior maiden’s dire injuries. Suki had been at the brink of death within the dank walls of the prison when Ozai’s reign ended.
With a sigh, he plucked a different color string. He knew it was hers, but it unnerved him how her life string had changed so drastically, and she was no different in person. It had been six months since the death of the Fire monarch and his children, yet she still mourned for them. It was natural, but then she began to recede and shun them. The only time she allowed people to see or speak to her was when she went to the temple to offer her prayers.
As he casually strolled along the palace corridors, an ethereal gust of wind blew past him. With wide eyes, he saw the transformation of the walls about him; the movement of air had left a slight layer of soot in its wake. A sense of panic rose within his chest and he followed the omen post-haste. But only as he rounded the corner into a familiar corridor did he realize -- Zuko.
The dreary surroundings suddenly shifted to a different time, one where the halls held an innocent life, regardless of the brutalities outside. He heard baby Zuko’s gurgling, laughter, and wailing.
He then watched Zuko with a bandaged face, walking heavily away from his quarters with a retinue of guards carrying his personal effects. He saw him walking back down the corridor in his Fire Nation regalia with Mai beside him. The visions ceased and Aang stood with an eerie calm about him.
He stood in front of the massive red, black and gold doors of his mentor’s suite. He knew whatever was in there with Katara did not want him inside — nor, did a part of him want to find out either. Still, he worried, for Katara was inside the chamber with a disembodied spirit.
His worst fear occurred…her life string dissipated.
He willed his spirit to return to his body. Jumping out of his meditation chair, he used his element to glide — no, fly, across the palace grounds to the eastern wing… to Zuko’s wing. He jumped into an empty room through an open window and bounded for the maze of corridors. The servants politely scurried out of his path and bowed, confused.
His lungs burned from heaving in air, his throat dry, and heart hammering within his chest.
He stood at the entrance to Zuko’s old suite, tears streaming down his face, pleading with any deity that what he saw in the spirit realm was a mistake. However, he knew deep inside that it was no error.
He gingerly opened the doors and his nose was greeted by the smell of age and disuse, yet punctuated with a familiar fragrance. With a flick of his wrists, the drawn windows and curtains opened wide, allowing the sunlight to stream in.
Katara lay on Zuko’s princely bed, tucked in between the silken sheets. She had donned her old garb, the blue attire of the Southern Water tribe, a peaceful smile upon her lips.
His lips trembled. He did not realize how he had come to sit on the bed with her lifeless body. He pressed his fingers on the soft flesh under her wrist, hopeful of a faint pulse. It was in vain.
His slender fingers tucked her silken loops away from her face. A sob escaped him. He touched her necklace and the stone pendant was still warm.
He closed his eyes, his spirit instantly transported to the Northern Spirit Oasis.
It was different in the spirit realm. It was misty and cold, unlike its physical counterpart. His brows furrowed as he shivered.
“Hello Aang,” said a familiar voice.
He whipped around and readied himself in a fighting stance. A chuckle echoed throughout the place, “Zuko?”
If he were not familiar with his mentor’s aura, he would have never figured it was him. Zuko stepped out of the mist…without his scar.
“Does it bother you that I don’t have my scar? I could always…”
“No! No, really it’s fine. You just look so much like your dad.”
A smirk played upon the fire monarch’s lips. “So I’ve been told.”
“Are…are you fairing well here?”
“Yes I am,” his dead companion replied with a sideward glance.
“It was you today, wasn’t it?” A simple nod was his answer. “Where’s Katara?”
“I’m here Aang,” laughed the blue-eyed maiden coming out of the mist.
His jaw dropped slightly before he shut it tight. A moment passed between them. “I haven’t heard you laugh like that in a long time.”
Blue eyes downcast, she responded, “I know…I’m sorry.”
She looked up at him and offered a small smile, then looked past him to the young man behind him. He turned to find Zuko holding out his hand and Katara was moving toward it. It was surreal. They smiled at each other before focusing on him once more.
“So… what does this mean?” he asked the pair. They smiled in tandem as the mist came to life and formed into two other figures. He suddenly recognized one of these from long ago — Oma and Shu.
“You see,” said Zuko, “we’re meant to be.”
