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The Alchemy of Fire - Arc I by Shadowhawke

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Chapter 10: Katara Alone - II

It doesn’t matter if the Painted Lady isn’t real, because your problems are real, and this river is real. - Katara
Book III, Episode 3, The Painted Lady


Colours.

They were the first things she saw - muted navys, swirling blues and ethereal whites that floated like eiderdown around her vision as she opened her eyes. The very air seemed to glow with them, pulsing in shade and time to the soft humming that filled her ears, as if somebody very, very far away was chanting an ancient song. An alien tranquility muted the underlying, trickling lullaby of the river she was standing ankle-deep in, bringing the sounds of nature and of spirit together in a delicate harmony.

Katara lifted a foot, and sunk it back down to the cold, clear bottom. The water was cold against her skin, as if it flowed from newly melted ice. Frosted leaves ghosted by her ankles as they were carried away by the current. And around her, water hung in the air as mist, a silent blanket shrouding the path ahead of her... and there was a path, she suddenly realised. A path made by the river itself, cutting through ancient woody roots and hoary trees whose branches disappeared into the fog like ghosts.

Katara lifted her arms almost by instinct, expecting the water to follow and carry her forwards. It took a few panicked seconds of nothing before she remembered; Right. Aang had said that he couldn’t bend in the Spirit World.

Which meant that she’d made it. She was here.,.

...  now what?

Katara stepped forwards uncertainly, a little nervous in this water she couldn’t control. Good water. Nice water. The foreign realm spread out before her, a vast, forested wood that reminded her somehow of the magical Swamp they had visited so long ago. And yet the stream running beneath her feet was crystal clear, and this time she had no objective, no goal she could think of. There was no Appa to find, no Sokka and Aang, no...

She swallowed and remembered the images, remembered the joy and then the crushing despair. People you’ve lost, people you’ve loved. The thought stopped her in her tracks, and all of a sudden the quiet, pristine beauty of the Spirit World seemed shadowy and threatening. What if it happened again? Only this time, there were no friends to back her up, no brother to chide and embrace in his solidness. For a moment, Katara wished she could bolt back into her body. But as fast as the fear rose up in her gut, so did it settle again. There didn’t seem to be any threat here, none that she could pick up at least, and so Katara kept putting one foot in front of the other, unsure of where she was going until she began to realise something.

The current.

The current of the river was flowing uphill.

And at exactly the same moment, Katara realised that the slow, unsettled ache in her stomach which  seemed to have churned within her forever had vanished, externalised somehow into the water itself. The gentle, insistent tugging that had unconsciously guided her restless steps was now the river, pulling her along in its current towards something else in this strange land. Suddenly sure again, Katara quickened her steps until, loss of bending or no, she seemed to be literally flying across the surface of the water. Behind her, wavy ripples spread from her delicate passage and pushed against the banks of the stream. Above her, the branches creaked in the wind, and once or twice she thought somebody called her name. Btu that was lost to her as she plunged eagerly ahead, trusting her instincts to navigate her around this strange world until she reached her destination...

... or perhaps, more accurately, a glittering dome of ice.

Katara stopped still as the woods around her arced out into a glade, the pristine grass so strangely familiar to the real life one she’d left behind with her body that she was struck. And then her eyes rose to meet the incongruous structure in the centre of the clearing, the perfectly elongated, frozen sphere beautiful but ridiculous amidst the muted greens of the forest.

It looked... rather like a circular ice lodge, and that was when her eyes widened in remembrance. Years ago, there had been an ice lodge in her village, before they’d been reduced to a pitiful collection of tents. It had been the central meeting place for the elders, where her father had presided as Chieftain. Now a real smile lit her face as she stepped forwards to meet its unbroken walls, her hand lifting up almost instinctively. Inexplicably, there was a low shudder, and then a section of ice slid away at the movement. Unquestioning, Katara glided through without looking back, the strangest feeling that she was coming home settling in her heart.

Which was how she missed the orange and yellow blur bounce against the reformed wall moments later.

Still, even if she had turned around, it was questionable whether she could have done anything about it. Now that she was within the ice, the familiar cold of the Poles enveloped her, broadening her smile. Although she couldn’t see any opening or window to break the darkness, the interior nonetheless shone with an intensely soft blue light, one that reminded her briefly of the sacred place in the Northern Water Tribes. The light cast a gentle, ephemeral illumination over the inside of the ice lodge, widening her eyes as much as her smile.

Katara had stepped out from a short, thickly iced corridor into the main room of the Lodge. It was easily as big as Appa himself, perhaps double his size, and yet it felt peculiarly cozy and insulated from any outside threat. Soft rugs covered the floor, a pile of furs in the corner clearly serving as a bed fit for Southern Water Tribe luxury. On the left side, a small fountain trickled out of the wall of the ice lodge itself, the water collecting in a small, brimming, crystal clear pool that begged her to play with it. On the right, a small fireplace glowed with warmth, taking off the chilling bite to the air. Katara couldn’t believe her eyes. True, her family wasn’t there, and it was nothing like she could remember of either the Southern or the Northern Water Tribes, but the settled calm in her stomach told her this was home. Before she could stop herself, Katara was sailing forwards with a happy yell and burying herself in the pile of furs. Their caress hugged her back, smooth and reassuring, and she rolled herself in them with delighted abandon, feeling truly taken care of for what seemed to be the first time in forever. With a contented sigh, Katara closed her eyes. She could sleep like this forever...

Behind her eyelids, she saw a sudden burst of brilliant white light, and then a tinkling laugh broke into her consciousness. “You like it, then?”

Katara’s eyes snapped open. “Yue!”

The moon spirit was still hovering in the air when the waterbender leapt up and hugged her, the weight dragging them both to the floor. Yue smiled in amusement as she hugged her back. Any other of her people would probably have prostrated themselves before her first, but this particular kinswoman could be forgiven for her familiarity. 

“Yue! I can’t believe it’s you! How - how have you been?” Katara asked giddily, giggling as she finally let the former Northern Water Tribe Princess go.

Yue laughed. “I’ve been around,” she smiled, it was the ageless wisdom in her face that made Katara suddenly remember exactly who she was talking to.

“Oh!” Katara’s mouth opened up into a perfect circle, and then she backed quickly away from her friend and knelt low to the floor. “I’m so sorry, I forgot and I...”

The moon spirit’s beautiful laugh broke through her apologies. “Get up, Katara,” Yue said warmly, settling herself delicately on the floor. “You don’t have to do that to me. We’re family.”

Katara pinked, hastily getting back to her feet in automatic obedience. “We... we are?”

“Well, not in the literal sense,” she laughed again, and it was truly like music. Katara beamed back at her; it was good to see as well, that Yue could laugh. When she’d been alive, she hadn’t done it nearly enough. “But you are one of my favourite waterbenders, so I’m sure that counts.”

Katara grinned back, hesitantly. “Really?”

Yue nodded, and spread her arms wide as if she were embracing the earth. “I can feel everyone who draws their power from me, especially at night. That’s how I’ve been keeping track of you all,” her answering smile was warm and radiant. “You’ve done well, Katara. I’m proud of you.”

At that, Katara’s grin suddenly faltered. “I…” she looked down, suddenly ashamed. “I killed someone, Yue.”

The moon spirit tilted her head, oddly. While a part of her was still Yue, still the Northern Water Tribe Princess, she was also more… a consciousness thousands of year old, a spirit who saw everything that happened at night, and much more besides. “I know. But that doesn’t change the fact that you fulfilled your duty, Katara, that doesn’t change…”

“But it does!” she couldn’t stop herself from bursting out, real tears beginning to blur her vision again. Somehow in this world, in this safe cocoon that felt like home, she knew that she didn’t have to pretend or be strong. “It does change things... I...” she shook her head, confused. “My duty?”

“Your duty to Aang, to the Avatar,” Yue clarified. “When you fought to keep Prince Zuko alive and to defeat Princess Azula, you fulfilled your final part in this war.”

Katara stepped back a little, let the words wash over her, and then fell back to the floor. She landed with a thump on the furs, but this time, their softness seemed unyielding. “Fulfilled,” she said slowly, somehow not surprised. She’d know that, hadn’t she? Deep inside, she’d known that after the end, after the battle, there was no part left for her to play. Aang had to keep on being the Avatar, yes. Zuko had to become Fire Lord. But for the rest of them...

“Fulfilled,” she repeated. “Over.” It seemed impossible. “But then...” she remembered Zuko’s simple question, poised so delicately in the night. What are you going to do, after this? She remembered thoughts of a faceless future, and frowned. “But then where does that leave me?”

A murderer?

She winced at the harshness of the thought, and it seemed that Yue had somehow heard it too, for the moon spirit’s face hardened. “No. You are so much more than that, Katara. Only you can allow yourself to be reduced to a murderer, and you haven’t yet.”

“Haven’t I?” Katara asked bitterly, clasping her knees to her chest. “She died in my arms, Yue. I could have saved her.”

“Katara,” Yue’s voice echoed inhumanly this time, and the silver light that had vanished from her presence shone brightly again, suffusing her with incandescent energy and wisdom aeons old. “Death is part of the way of things. It is part of the balance. As we live, so we must die. Yin and Yang, Dark and Light, Earth and Air, Fire and Water, Life and Death. Each requires the other to be real. Senseless death is murder, yes. Needless death is slaughter, yes. But what you did was neither senseless nor needless.”

Katara shook her head uncomprehendingly. “But that’s like saying I should despair as much as I hope.”

She was still so young, so very young. Yue’s eyes softened as they travelled over her friend. At the time of her own death, Yue had only been two years older, but now there was more than a millennia of difference, and the moon spirit could feel it, taste it, see it. Defiance, disbelief, and misunderstanding trembled from every vein of Katara’s body, and in the vestiges of her mind, where the most powerful shreds of her remembered humanity still resided, Yue felt a heaviness in her chest. They’d all been so young, even Sokka, and the burden had been so great. But now, if the girl in front of her was to choose her own destiny in the tumultuous future that lay ahead, she would have to understand, and understand soon.

“There is a difference, Katara,” she said gently. “A great difference which perhaps you will learn in time. I will say this, though; never give up your hope. It is one of your greatest strengths. But surrender your guilt; it will block you from achieving your full power,” the tiniest hint of a smile emerged from her again, and the iridescent light surrounding her shone brighter like the new moon. “And believe me, you have much potential.”

A sudden thought crossed Katara’s mind at that, and she furrowed her brow before she spoke again. “Like the bloodbending?” she asked in a small voice. “I... I managed to do it on the day of the comet, even when it wasn’t the full moon. H-how?”

Yue glowed gently, powerfully. “Everyone often forgets that even while the sun shines, the moon is still present. Our people can bend during the day, even if it is often weaker. But you are right, bloodbending is exceptionally powerful, but you have shown that it is a power within you that you can access, especially when your loved ones are in danger or your determination and emotion is allowed free reign without guilt.” And even though she managed to say it so dispassionately, so clearly, Yue had to marvel at just how strong the small girl in front of her really was. “That means that if you are strong and sure enough inside, you do not need the full moon to augment your power, you can do it yourself. Perhaps in time, when you learn to be more in balance with yourself and free yourself from needless guilt, you may be able to do it at will, whether I am at full strength or newborn, whether it is day or night.”

Yue paused. And that truly is remarkable, “So how? It is because you have proven yourself to be a bloodbender, Katara. A powerful one.”

And Katara, who’d gone pale throughout the moon spirit’s explanation, bit her lip ad remembered Hama, remembered the puppets, remembered the hatred surging through her own veins as she spun and wove and froze her way inside the innocent Southern Raiders’ leader, and then again her desperation with Azula. Congratulations, Katara, you’re a Bloodbender. “But I don’t want to be,” the words burst out of her mouth, and she bowed her head in shame. “I don’t, I-I can’t.”

The moon spirit froze, hovering now in the air as her silver light retreated to a gentle shimmer. “But you are,” she stated quietly, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. “You are a bloodbender Katara, and that is something you cannot change.”

Katara said nothing, but she kept her head bowed and stubborn against the gentle rebuke. Stray curls of hair that had escaped from her plait brushed her forehead, and for a moment she looked even younger than her fourteen, almost fifteen years. Yue sighed, low and deep, and it was heartbreaking against the walls still echoing with the beauty of her remembered laughter. “To understand where you are, who you are, you must understand what you are,” she explained. “You are vengeance as much as you are protection, fear as much as you are hope, anger and hatred as much as you are calm and love. Your power comes out of the push and pull of your opposite sides. And you cannot reject either the light or the dark, otherwise you are denying both yourself and your potential.”

Katara gulped. As much as she wanted to struggle against it, to stubbornly deny the images of hate and revenge, of anger and blood, Yue’s words made so much implicit sense that it hurt. It struck to the heart of everything she had ever learnt with her waterbending, defense effortlessly becoming her offense in the push and pull of her element. Katara shook her head and tried to concentrate on the end conclusion of the reasoning. “My power?”

“Yes,” Yue confirmed, smiling softly again. If only the girl truly knew... “Yet that is not a question for me to answer. I came first to ease you into this world, my sister, to tell you that you had fulfilled your duty and to help you understand where it has left you. But she who will come next will guide you as to your more immediate concerns, and then she who comes after will advise you on your future.”

Katara’s brow furrowed. “Guides? Advisers? Why does this sound like one of Aang’s Avatar journeys?”

Yue chuckled lightly. “The Avatar is not the only one with access to the Spirit World. When the time is right, when the forces are aligned, people like yourself can also make the transition to find their path. The Spirit World is rest for the dead, but in its depths and mysteries, it is also a labyrinth for the living to discover, to understand, to evolve... isn’t that why you travelled here?”

Katara bit her lip and looked at her feet. “I don’t know why I came here,” she admitted softly, before straightening. “Although I think... it was a voice. It was something. A feeling. I don’t... I don’t know,” she concluded helplessly. “I just don’t know.”

Yue shook her head, warning falling across her features. “You will not be able to answer like that forever.”

The waterbender swallowed. “I know.”

“Good,” the moon spirit glowed suddenly, and then began to shimmer. Slowly, her light dimmed, until Yue herself became transparent as she faded away to another dimension. “Be well then, Katara, and remember that your past duty has been fulfilled. But it is you who will decided where your story goes from here. However you choose, I know we will meet again.”

“Wait!” Katara scrambled to her feet, sudden panic setting into her. “But I have so much to ask you!   I mean, if my duty’s fulfilled, where do I go now? How do I decide? What do I decide? Yue?!”

But the moon spirit was gone, vacant air where her splendour once shone. Katara gazed at the empty spot with a dull elation in her heart. The sense of closure that Yue’s words had brought had only confirmed what she’d been feeling these last few days, this restlessness and uncertainty. Now your destinies are intertwined with his, Gran-Gran had said. But with the war over, so was destiny, at least for her.

 “Yue,” she said aloud, half-begging to the empty air even as she knew that no-one would reply. “What do I do now?”

A low chuckle sounded from behind her. “Perhaps I can help with that.”

* * *
You think you’re any different from me, or your friends, or from this tree? If you listen hard enough, you can hear every living thing, breathing together.
* * *

Kama shifted uncomfortably in the seat that she’d been assigned to, a gesture of decency and thoughtfulness that she hadn’t expected after so long. Beside her, she could feel Kata sitting stiff and straight, obviously as on edge as she was. She reached out a hand, careful not to move too quickly lest the guard interpret it wrongly, and squeezed her sister’s fingertips. There was a pause, a slack, and then Kata’s nerveless fingers grasped hers back.

Kama sighed shakily, and one of the Earth Kingdom men sitting next to her huffed. “It’ll be all right,” he said, but his voice sounded husky and unconvinced. Kama merely mutely nodded, grateful for the thought and feeling an instant bond spring up between a fellow prisoner. And so it was Kata who responded, her voice frighteningly devoid of any emotion as she gazed up at the platform where the Fire Prince would arrive.

“It’ll never be all right,” the older woman whispered. “Never.”

There was an uncomfortable shifting silence among the small group, overborne and overweighed by the nervous chattering amongst the Fire Nation people milling around them. Kama shifted again, her mind on overdrive as she noted how many guards there were, how many crimson-stained people she could count. It was the first time since she’d been taken over forty years ago that she’d seen so many people. And her experiences since then had not made her very well-disposed at all to anyone dressed in red. Kama tightened her grip on her sister’s hands and tried very hard not to think of her hate, not to think of the bitterness and the loathing welling up inside of her, and...

“Coming through, coming through!” sang out an obnoxiously cheerful, loud voice. Kama snapped herself from her thoughts, shrinking back on her chair as she saw the mostly blood-coloured crowd shift... to reveal someone who was obviously a fellow Water Tribesmen. Kama’s eyes widened as he sailed through on two makeshift crutches, an Earth Kingdom warrior in full battle regalia following closely at his heels. The pair were almost on top of them when she realised with a start that they were deliberately heading in their direction.

“Oh, hey!” the boy swung around on his crutches, his smile faltering as his eyes met their own. “I’m Sokka, and this is Suki. Zu-... ah, the Fire Prince, um, Lord guy sent us down to make sure you were all right.”

It was the Earth general beside her who spoke first, his voice dry and raspy as he stared at the Earth Kingdom girl’s outfit. “What are you doing here?” he demanded. “What are the Kyoshi warriors doing here, did they capture you too?”

The girl smiled beneath her battle paint. “Oh, they captured me all right,” she said dryly. “But then Sokka over here helped to bust me out. And then we helped end the war, so I guess the rest of the Kyoshi warriors should be free soon too!”

“The war...” Kama was surprised to hear herself speak. Her voice was rusty from disuse, and she swallowed quickly again to try to bring it back. “The war... it’s really over?”

She hadn’t believed the Fire Nation youth when he’d come, even when he’d ordered the guards to unwind their chains and to open the door with a strained expression on his face. How could she have? It could have so easily been just another sick trick, a new game of torture that the sick devils of the Fire had devised. And yet, now... coming from someone else’s mouth...

“Yes,” the boy Sokka said, a wide grin encompassing his browned face. “The war really is over.” Kama felt his eyes wander across their features, drinking in the evidence of all of their pain and suffering, and saw pity battle with sadness across his face as his grin slowly faded away. “It’s over. Finished. Gone.”

Kama felt her sister move beside her, and then the older waterbender trembled. “Then what does the Fire Prince want with us?” Kata spat out, her voice harsh. “Why are we here? Why haven’t we been sent home, why haven’t we been set free?”

“But you have,” Suki hastened to reassure her. “It’s just that Zu- the Fire Prince wanted you to see the coronation,” she leaned back to address them all, this small group of Earth and Water who had been burnt so much by the flame. “He wanted to show to all three remaining nations that it truly was over - wanted to show that we were ready to start working together towards proper peace and...”

“Together?” demanded one of the Earth Kingdom people in disbelief. “Peace? Is this Fire Prince as crazy as the rest of his ilk? Because I can promise you, there will be no peace, there will only be blood and revenge for our families and...”

The rest of his words were drowned out by the echoing ripple of agreement amongst them, and Kama watched as the Water Tribe boy swallowed.

“I know,” he said, his words heartfelt as he sagged on his crutches. Kama felt her eyes be drawn to the cast on his leg, studying the angle of it with expert eyes. A serious break, she decided instinctively, but one which had been well tended. “The Fire Nation’s done some terrible things, believe me I know. They,” he swallowed again, “They took my mother away from me and my sister. They split up my family. They’ve put me through hell for most of my life, but it’s over now, don’t you see? Zuko isn’t like his father. The Fire Nation you fought isn’t the same Fire Nation as it is now. And we have to work together, otherwise everything you and I have fought for, all the lives lost for peace... everything will be in vain.”

“Everything will be in vain until every last piece of Fire Nation scum lies dead on the earth!” another Earth Kingdom man hissed, and there was calls of agreement once again. Kama saw despair cross over Sokka’s face as he raised one crutch ineffectually for quiet. “Please, you have to understand. Things have changed, they...”

He was interrupted by a sudden crash of metal, the sonorous sound rippling across the crowd like a wave. Instantly, everyone stopped speaking, and in the hush of the crowd, a single voice shouted out his announcement.

“Fire Prince Zuko!”

The silence that followed the gong stretched out beyond belief. For at least half a minute, the crowd held their breath as they watched the still, unmoving hanging, waiting for the Prince to emerge. And then, when there was still nothing, a voiceless tension began to creep over them, sinking its claws into their skin one by one.

“La, I hope Zuko’s all right,” the boy, Sokka muttered. Kama watched how his eyes fixed on the flame-embroidered curtain, true worry in his gaze. “I hope nothing’s happened.”

The Earth girl, Suki, murmured something conciliatory, and suddenly Kama wished savagely that something had happened. Wished with all her heart that the Fire Lord was in trouble, that he was suffering as much as her people had suffered, as much as her sister had suffered, as much as she had suffered. Wished with a devastating vengeance trembling in her blood that he would know what it felt like to burn... and she felt her fingers clench in hate just as the cloth finally swayed and the man himself stepped out to greet his subjects.

The words came to her as if from a distance as she gazed at him, fixed.

“Oh thank Tui,” she heard the boy, Sokka breathe. “He’s all right. But hang on, why are Mai and Shen Li with him, that wasn’t part of the plan...”

The Kyoshi warrior whispered something back to him, but by then Kama was no longer focusing on their conversation. Kama shook with rage as she stared at him, this mythical being who had destroyed her life. She couldn’t believe it. After all this time, he was finally there right in front of her, and she...

The first thing that struck her was how pale he was, how golden his eyes were, how perfect his topknot. Each and every feature screamed at her that he was Fire Nation, one of the enemy, and she knew without looking that furious recognition was etched across Kata’s face as well.

And the second thing that struck her was the scar.

It ate its way across his face, devouring nearly half of his handsomeness in livid, angry red, and the rusty healer in her heart quailed in sympathy at the pain he must have felt. Suddenly she was as uncertain as she was hateful, as this boy walked forwards in his gold and red robes, the youth who’d freed them and the knife-sharp girl following him. Because he didn’t look like she’d always imagined the Fire Lord. He looked...

Kama swallowed. Things have changed, she remembered the youth saying as he’d watched them with sad eyes. And then again, the boy from her own tribe as he’d stared at them. Things have changed.

She looked up at the Fire Lord, saw two halves of the world collide in the soundless hush of the courtyard, and had to agree.

* * *
You never know how things are going to work out, but if you keep an open mind and an open heart, I promise you will find your own destiny someday. - Iroh
Book III, Episode 12, The Western Air Temple.
* * *

Somehow, Katara wasn’t surprised when she spun around to see pale robes and a rope shawl, and blood-red paint against a ghost-white face. “Painted Lady,” she murmured, bowing low almost instinctively this time.

The Spirit hovered in the air, skimming centimetres from the ground as she approached. The billows of mist that accompanied her seemed strange in the frozen clarity of the ice lodge, and yet somehow wholly appropriate. As Yue shone silver, so did the Painted Lady shine white and come with the spiritual wisps of her river, and Katara found herself wondering what the next one would be like.

“Welcome, waterbender,” the spirit replied, her voice acquiring a sonorous, bell-like tone amidst the ice. “You have travelled far in such few days.”

Katara shrugged helplessly, desperation and discomfort at her own uncertainty making her honest. “And yet it doesn’t feel like I’ve gotten anywhere,” she said lamely. “I still don’t know how I can possibly deal with what I’ve done. And now it’s all over, I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do.” She took a deep breath. “I... I didn’t enjoy the war. It was terrible. It killed so many people, and it ruined so many lives so stupidly. But it did give us a goal,” she lowered her head. “It gave me a direction. Before the war ended, there was always a purpose to everything, somewhere I could aim for, something to justify me going to bed late every night and rising as early as possible to take care of everyone... to cook, to mend, to heal, to fight. Something to pour my heart and soul into. And then before that, I had to take care of our village with Sokka, and everything I had I poured into that as well. And then...”

She swallowed, bowed her head and continued, her voice sinking down to a pained whisper. “And then before that, I had to be Mum.”

There was a slow silence, broken only by Katara’s hoarse breathing, and then the Painted Lady drifted closer, “And now?”

Katara twisted her lips into a self-mocking smile. Wasn’t that the million gold piece question? And ah, repetition, repetition, and useless repetition. “I don’t know.”

The river spirit lifted her head, a ghostly wind stroking her midnight hair. “Many people go through their lives never knowing,” she acknowledged soberly. “They drift through the currents of life like wreckage. And yet, you cannot afford that now,” her voice grew stronger, more commanding, like the great waterfalls themselves. “You have acknowledged your power, and so you are ready to choose. That is why you are here.”

Katara gulped, the sudden sensation of being put on the spot overwhelming her. “But I thought Yue said it was my decision, so doesn’t that mean,,,?”

“It is and always has been your decision,” the Painted Lady said firmly. “But your decision is still governed by circumstance. Your choice to follow the Avatar intertwined your destiny with his, but it was forced at that moment he was taken by the Fire Nation. Now you have reached yet another crossroads where you must choose, only this time it is much less clear-cut.”

Katara snorted. “I know that,” she said dryly. “But I still, I don’t... you’re right, this is different. This time it’s not a choice between learning waterbending and staying where it was safe. This time, it feels like it’s about the rest of my life, my own life for once, and I just...”

With nowhere to look to, Katara looked down at her hands. In the refracted, spiritual light of the ice lodge, the lines that stretched across them were thrown in sharp relief. Some had been etched there since birth, a tale waiting to be told. Others had been worn in through her work, her healing and her fighting, and she clenched her fingers around them as if to keep them from escaping, from leaving her just a simple water peasant destined to live out a quiet life on the floes. But even hidden, their image remained burned onto her retinas, reminding her that she had the hands of a warrior, a healer, a mother.

Katara unfurled her fingers again, and then placed them down onto her lap, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles in her blue shift. “I don’t know exactly where I’m going,” she admitted, and although it was an echo of every frustration she’d voiced previously in the last few days, this time the memory of her hands made it subtly stronger. “I don’t know exactly what I’m going to do.”

The Painted Lady said nothing, waiting patiently for her to continue. Katara took a deep breath. “But I... I do know something. I know that I want to help people. I want to use whatever powers I have to... to give hope. I want to,” she lowered her gaze as she finally admitted it to herself, admitted things she had forgotten in the last few months, when their ungainly group had grown into a bunch of children that she’d had to take care of. “I want to remember who I am. I want to find out if that’s... changed.” She died in my arms. “I want to keep fighting for what I believe. I just don’t know how.

A thin smile knifed the Painted Lady’s mouth. “Good,” she said grimly. “Then I will show you what you can do.”

Katara blinked. Whatever she’d been expecting, it certainly hadn’t been that. “Huh?” she tilted her face back, just in time to see the river spirit swirl forwards impossibly fast and lay her ghostly fingers on Katara’s forehead, and...

Katara saw herself. She saw herself nursing a small trail of shining liquid to a terrible, terrible wound on Aang’s chest and saw him cough back to life. She saw herself cold and armed for revenge, clad in black shadow with another by her side as she strung a man’s movements like a puppet. And then she was hurtled from the past to the future... Katara saw herself arcing water through the air to slice through armour with her left hand, saw a twin trail of viscous red liquid twirl in her other. She gagged quietly as she realised exactly what it was, but then the picture broadened. She saw herself on a battlefield, in a palace, in the mountains, at the Poles. She saw a warrior, a healer, a fighter, a doctor. And then the images blurred and were replaced, and the young girl standing by the riverside was replaced by an older woman with long black hair and pale skin, who dived deep into the water, cutting it as cleanly as a knife. She saw the gold crescent as homage to both the sun and the moon who overlooked the river, saw the red marks start off as paint, and then merge briefly into blood during a civil war that turned island against island in this ancient land that would become the Fire Nation. And then she saw the same woman kneeling by a bedside, easing out a bawling baby covered with blood and water, saw life come from the caverns and the light of joy spring from the exhaustion and pain in the mother’s face. And then Katara saw the river itself, spread out in a glittering expanse, saw it giving life and succour at its mouth and yet also saw people drowning along the way, pulled forever into the water’s embrace. She saw it bubble steadily from a spring high in the mountains, saw it gush over rock and earth in waterfalls, saw it eddy gently and calmly in pools before flowing steadily out to sea. And then she saw water evaporate in the sun, saw it ghost down as rain to rejoin the river once more, an endless cycle that pushed and pulled, always in balance...

Life and death. Blood and water. Black and white...

The Painted Lady’s eyes were the first thing Katara saw when she opened her own. Their golden warmth calmed her as she shook her head groggily, trying to process everything that she’d seen. The contradictory images seemed to clash in her mind, as sharply cut against one another as the river spirit’s red marks stood against her white face. Katara shuddered.

“I don’t understand,” she finally said haltingly, confusion still flickering across her vision. “How did, how does...?”

The river spirit shifted, her gauzy veil fluttering away to reveal the starkness of her features. “To understand what you can do, you must understand what you are,” she explained, her words a strange echo of Yue’s. “Just like water can be the river, the sea, the spring and the rain and yet still be one, so can you yourself be many different things in a single, more powerful whole. Like me, you are fighter as much as you are healer, a mother as much as you are a child. You cannot compartmentalise yourself into one or the other; to reach your fullest potential, you must acknowledge and accept all of them. And then, you can harness your true powers and potential in your battles, for you will know when and how to use each of your skills.”

Katara nodded slowly. “My battles?”

The river spirit didn’t move, but all of a sudden the little pool by the edge of the ice lodge shimmered, became translucent, and then gave way to an image. Katara stood shakily to see it. Through the distortion of the ripples, she saw a blue-clad girl sitting by three waterfalls, a makeshift campsite behind her. She was about to open her mouth when she saw what was different from the scenario she had left... where her bag had been closed, it now lay open... and more importantly, the materials she had bought at the market were no longer just pieces of cloth, they were clothing, armour...

Katara spun around to meet the smiling face of the Painted Lady. “You bought them with a reason, whether you knew it or not,” the river spirit said. “The design is your own - I have merely assembled them for you.”

The waterbender wet her lips, feeling an odd sensation welling up in her stomach. “My choice?” she asked, even though it was more of a rhetorical question than anything. She had made her choice so long ago, she just hadn’t recognised the new form it had come in.

It hit her with a sudden rush, how clueless she’d been when the answer had been staring her in the face all along. Yes, the war was over. Yes, she was no longer tied to Aang, or to anyone, really, if she chose it. Yes, she was hurt and confused, lost in what it meant to be Katara when the Katara she knew had killed someone.

But that didn’t change the one fundamental thing about her. I will never turn my back on the people who need me. The river spirit hadn’t said the exact words, but she hadn’t needed to. I will show you what you can do. There would always be those she could help, and with the image of the spirit-made raiment gazing back at her, she knew they were close by. But more importantly, she knew that what had thrown her was the vast ocean of possibilities suddenly available to her after such a narrow scope of bittersweet agency, caught up in someone else’s destiny even though she knew she’d played a vital part. And yet nothing had changed. Because when she’d had the freedom to choose, she’d chosen to stay and heal the people in the Fire Nation infirmaries. And now...

The design is your own - I have merely assembled them for you. Now she truly understood what it meant to have her own destiny in her hands, just how she could channel her own power and it was less frightening than it was freeing. The idea was overwhelming, but it gave her a sudden giddy rush of joy and certainty. Purpose. Striking her own path and taking life as it came wasn’t nearly as clear-cut as bringing down the Fire Lord before he destroyed the world, but the world was a different place now, and it would be enough. The image of the clothes was a promise, and she almost burst into a cry of sheer joy before she remembered exactly whose company she was sharing. “You don’t mind?” Katara asked carefully, suddenly aware of the insult it might pose.

The Painted Lady inclined her head. “It is an honour,” she replied solemnly. “Bear my title and wear my garments in your own way for now. But I would not be surprised if in the future, your name becomes a legend in its own.”

“A legend?” Katara laughed at the unexpectedness of the word, pushing back a few wisps of hair around her ears sheepishly. “I don’t feel very legendary.”

The river spirit raised an eyebrow, and Katara blundered on. “I-I mean, the Avatar is legendary. Even the Fire Lord is legendary. Me? I’m just...” she sighed through her nose. “Despite what you say, I’m still just a water peasant.”

The Painted Lady river began to flicker at the edges, even as se shook her head in disagreement. “And I was just the daughter of a healer and a soldier who lived by the riverside,” she replied. “It is what you will make of your future who will make you who you are. And I am not the one who will help you with that.”

Katara’s ears pricked. “Who?” she asked, her heart suddenly leaping into her mouth, but the Painted Lady was already fading away behind her billows of mist, her enigmatic smile serving as her only farewell.

And Katara felt another presence at her back, one which unfolded uncertainly like the most beautiful flower in the world, a panda lily that bloomed only once every three seasons. It grew delicately, tremulously, until it descended into reality, and Katara didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, didn’t know whether to doubt or believe...

And so she settled for just turning around, slowly, her eyes travelling up from the ground to the familiar blue overcoat, the beaded designs, the careworn hands, tracing each detail with agonising slowness until she reached her visitor’s face.

“Mom,” Katara said softly.
* * *

“You are never doing that again! Do you hear me?!”

He had been floating in pleasant darkness, gradually regaining the feeling in his corporeal body. But then his consciousness slammed into place when the earth-shattering shriek sounded in his left ear. With a start, Aang’s eyes snapped open and he jerked up. “T-Toph?” he asked groggily.

“Who else?” she snapped angrily. “Snoozles and Fan-Girl? Of course it’s me, Twinkletoes, and you are never doing that again!”

With a groan, the Avatar rubbed his bald head and sat up properly. The movement pushed him against bony knees, and he almost fell off Appa when he realised he was still nestled in Toph’s lap. As it was, his hasty scramble sent him over to the other side of the saddle faster than Toph’s unseeing eyes could blink. “Um, sorry! I... I didn’t meant to, uh...”

Toph’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “You didn’t mean to? Oh I think you did! Last time I checked, you can’t just accidentally start yelling about Katara and then pop into the Spirit’s World without a moment’s notice!”

Aang coughed, but her words brought back his memories and in turn, made him realise exactly how much fear underlaid his earthbending teacher’s voice. “What happened while I was gone?”

Toph breathed unsteadily, crossing her arms against her chest in a vain attempt to feel more grounded. “You just... didn’t move,” she muttered. “I could feel your heartbeat but it wasn’t you. It was... mechanical. You left me, Twinkletoes, without so much as a proper explanation.” She exhaled. “So you better start explaining now what’s going on. Is Katara all right?”

Aang swallowed. With the visions he had seen... he’d almost forgotten the reason he’d made the leap in the first place, and now an old pain crept up into his chest to share space with the fear that had been with him ever since he’d looked into that pond with Azula by his side for the third time.

“She’s fine, I think,” he said uncertainly, still trying remember what had happened. “I saw her enter this ice-dome thingy, but I think it was safe.”

Toph frowned. “Then why is your heart jumping around like a rabbi-roo’s now that you’re back?”

Three old men sitting around a blocky table. One old woman with her hands clawing at the rain. Two young girls dancing through blasts of fire, the first sleek with water and the other sharp as steel... the earth shifting beneath feet to crush someone’s bones to powder. The marching of soldiers’ feet over soil and rock, inexorable and deadly. The smell of smoke and burning. Fire. Earth. Water. A child screaming. Someone laughing...

Aang said nothing for a long while, and he could almost feel Toph’s impatience as he clambered upwards to gaze across the sea. He didn’t know just how long he’d been in the Spirit World... all he knew was that where there had only been vast open ocean, he could now see the thin curve of land at the horizon.

With a quick jerk of his thin shoulders, the Avatar turned back to his friend. Her fingers were beginning to fidget at the sides of her elbows, uncertainty, worry and annoyance all chasing themselves across her open features. For a moment he felt like lying... if the rest of his friends had been there, he probably would have. He wouldn’t have wanted to give more reason to Zuko and Sokka’s pessimism, or to put a frown of anxiety on Katara’s face. But it was just Toph now, and to breach her blunt trust with anything other than honesty would be criminal.

“Because I’m afraid,” he said quietly, his voice almost a whisper.

There was a pause, and then “Details,” Toph said sharply, where someone else might have hugged him and told him not to fear. And yet it felt right somehow, because he knew that the gentlest of embraces wouldn’t take away the horror of what he had seen.

“I saw some pretty bad things while I was there,” he shook his head. “Really bad things. Like uprisings and slaughters and... and these people plotting to bring the world back to war again. I’m... I’m afraid that when we get to the Earth Kingdom, it won’t be like it was when we left.”

It will be blood, it will be death, it will be despair on the scale that I can’t imagine, because I thought that it would all end after the war. And I don’t know if I can do it, I don’t know if I can do it, I don’t know if I’m...

“Then we’ll just make it better again,” Toph said brusquely, unfolding her arms to slam a fist into her palm. “You and me, Twinkletoes.”

Aang started out of his thoughts, and then for the first time since his visit to the Spirit World, he smiled shakily. “Yeah. Yeah we will.”

* * *
Oh, don’t you worry about my strength.                     
* * *
 
“Mom,” Katara whispered, and then she was running, and so was her mother, and they leapt into each others’ arms with a fervour that stretched past mere blood and bone into heart and soul. Katara wept as she clung to the familiar blue coat tightly, joy and amazement blurring her vision. “Oh Mom, Mom...”

“My baby,” Kya clutched her back just as fiercely, her fingers stroking her daughter’s head as she squeezed her eyes shut. “Oh my, baby, my beautiful Katara...”

They stayed like that for what could have been second, minutes, or hours... time immaterial as mother and daughter embraced. Katara buried her face in her mother’s shoulder, inhaling the sweet, clean smell of ice and fire and home that she had never forgotten. She couldn’t believe it. After all this time...

“Mom,” she breathed reverently, and pulled back slightly to run gentle fingers over her mother’s face. Kya did the same, examining the changes to the girl she’d left behind, the rise in her cheekbones, the increase in her height and the promise of even greater beauty to come in her eyes. “Oh Mom... I found out what you did, I’m so sorry, I ran as fast as I could, but...”

“Shhh, shhhh,” Kya held her daughter close again, the tears spilling down her cheeks. “It’s not your fault, it’s not your fault. I did it for you, baby, and I’d do it again in a heartbeat. Just look at you,” she stepped back and smiled, her eyes glimmering with pride. “Look at the strong, beautiful woman you’ve become. My Katara...”

“Mom,” Katara swallowed past the massive lump in her throat, the one still throbbing with shock and joy and tears. “Everything, everything I’ve done and become... everything is because of you.”

“I know, sweetie,” Kya stroked her daughter’s cheek. “I know, I’ve been watching. I’m so proud of you, my baby. You and Sokka. You’ve both done so well...” She pulled Katara back into a hug again, and for a moment she wished she never had to let go. She pressed a kiss to her child’s forehead. “And even though it’ll be hard,” her voice caught, “Even though it’ll be hard, I know you’ll forge even brighter futures for yourselves.”

Katara hugged her mother back fiercely, turning her left side until her chin was tucked just beneath her mother’s shoulders, her arms still encircling her tightly. “You know about our futures?”

Kya reached down to grip her daughter’s hand. “What do you know?” she asked hesitantly, unsure of how much new information she was bearing.

Katara laughed through newborn tears. “Only that it’ll be difficult. Oh! And that a long time ago, a fortuneteller told me that I’d have a great romance and marry a very powerful bender.”

Briefly, she thought of Aang’s puckered lips and her first kiss, just before he’d leapt off into the sky for the invasion. And she remembered the slight deflation that had followed after the shock. Great, now I know we’re all going to die. Yes, any great romance that was to be hers was definitely in the future.

Kya laughed warmly, and then sobered. “I’m sure you will, my baby, if that’s what you want. But I’m here to tell you that it will be more than just difficult. It’ll be dangerous.”

Katara stilled, clutching at her mother’s sleeve and fingers, and suddenly she was a little girl again as fear swamped through her. “What is it?” she asked, her mouth suddenly dry. “What will happen?”

Kya sighed, wishing that their reunion didn’t have to be tainted by this. “You’ll need to be strong, baby,” she whispered into her daughter’s hair. “As strong as you are now, and stronger. And not just your waterbending, either,” she interlinked her fingers with her daughter’s, and brought both of them up to hover over Katara’s chest. “You’ve always been so full of hope, my baby. And even though what happened on the day of the comet has taken away some of your innocence, in some ways you’re still the little girl I left behind.”

Katara bit her lip, and pressed her cheek further into the softness of her mother’s coat. “Is that a bad thing?” she asked quietly.

Kya paused, shocked into silence for a moment, and then she hastened to explain, letting go of her daughter’s fingers to weave them into her loosening hair. “No, Katara, never! Your hope and your pure heart... they are your true strengths, my darling. What I mean is that soon, you’ll find them tested. But you mustn’t let go of them. It’ll take strength, but you mustn’t ever let go of who you are.”

Kya pulled back once more, her heart breaking as she wished she could say more, yet still hated what she already had to say. “So what I mean is...” she faltered, closed her eyes, and then opened them again with determination. “Now that you know your power, know your choice, know how to use it... are you ready? Are you strong enough to face what will come?”

There was a pause. Even through the thick parka, Katara could feel her mother’s steady, thrumming heartbeat, and it counted out the space of time as she gazed into blue, blue eyes, eyes that matched her own and yet were so much greater. These were the eyes which had seen her take her first mewling breaths, eyes which had watched her first faltering steps, eyes which had chased away the nightmares while she slept. They were the eyes which had flowed, overjoyed at her first few feeble waterbending attempts, eyes, eyes which had stared into her own moments before their owner sacrificed everything. For her. Katara swallowed. In the gentle, loving gaze of those eyes, she felt as if she could do anything.

Are you strong enough to face what will come?

Katara raised her chin. “Yes,” she said stubbornly. “I am, I promise. I won’t let you down, Mom. I won’t.” Never again.

And though the words swirled between them unspoken, Kya smiled, and cupped a wistful hand around Katara’s cheek. “You truly are your parents’ daughter,” she said, her eyes glimmering. “You have both your father’s strength and spirit and mine within you. Never forget that. Never forget who you are.”

Katara nodded, tears slipping down and wetting her mother’s skin. “I won’t, Mom. I promise.”

“Good,” Kya hugged her to her breast once more, fiercely, lovingly, and then let go. “Now go back, Katara. It’s time.”

Katara’s eyes, which had been drooping shut, flew open. “What?! But Mom, we,,,”

Kya blinked back her own tears, wishing that it didn’t have to be like this. And yet the tremulous feel in the air told her that the time had indeed come. “I know, sweetie, I know. I wish we could have more time too. But we will see each other again, Katara. I promise. But for now, you have to go. You’re needed.”

Katara shook her head, clinging to her mother once again like a newborn child. “But Mom...!”

“Go,” it was forceful this time, and Katara felt her spirit obeying even as she reached out, desperate for one last touch. Her fingers reached out to brush her mother’s, and Kya smiled, her sapphire eyes glistening with pride.

“Go, Katara,” she repeated, her voice soft and loving again. “Remember I love you. I love you all... you, Sokka, and your father,” she took an unneeded breath to steady herself. “And please... tell them when you see them. Tell them that I love them, and that... that I think about you every day.”

Katara couldn’t help it; the words were enough to bring tears to her eyes once more, and despite herself, Katara laughed through her sobs. “We do too, Mom, we do too...”

And then the ice lodge, the furs, and finally her mother’s face was covered by mist, and Katara felt herself be carried away.
* * *
Let’s do this.
* * *

The first thing she felt was an odd prickling sensation, and then she was back in her stiff, cooling body. For a moment, it felt as if she were unnaturally constrained, but then her brain remembered how to move and Katara’s eyes snapped open. With a gasp, she staggered to her feet and fell, pins and needles scattering their prickling pain across her skin as she hauled herself back upwards again.

Just in time to smell the smoke.

It’ll be dangerous. Katara stared down the river as her limbs froze, trying to get her mind to work again. The war was over. Villages had fireplaces. Logically, there was nothing wrong. It was just smoke. She was still close to the village, after all, but still...

Her gaze fell onto the purple tunic spread out on the grass, the rope shawl and the hat fluttering next to it. And the smell of smoke came back to her, stronger this time.

But I believe that Aang can save the world.

Out of nowhere, the thought dropped into her mind like rain onto a lake, and it hung there oddly distilled for a moment before vanishing away into the ether. Katara stared at the clothes, heard the rushing of the waterfalls pass her, and a year of running away from the burn of smoke and fire was enough to get her moving...

This time, to run towards it.

 
 
 
 
 


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