Azula entered the cave with nefarious intent. The valley, the jungle, and the spirits in it have all wronged her. They kept her from her goal, they had stopped her from bringing her mother and brother down once and for all, and now they were going to pay. All of them were going to pay.

She could see it glowing. The heart of the Forgetful Valley, deep at the bottom of the cave's pool.

The spirits thought that they'd hidden it so well, in a place so high in the mountains that no one could reach it. But they didn't account for someone like her. Someone with determination and the poweress to make it happen.

She slid one hand along the cool, wet wall and held in her other, a sputtering blue flame. The cave breathed a moist and musk air over her face but she was not deterred.

With a truly wicked grin, Azula sauntered over to the water.

Water that was so still and probably had been for decades, maybe longer. It was practically asking her to unsettle it. Below, she could now clearly see the thing emitting the purple glow. Indeed it looked like a heart, one of the largest she'd ever seen. To it clung a host of barnacles, urchins, and corals. She could even make out a few tiny bioluminescent fish swirling about. Upon closer inspection Azula noticed the heart's veins half-buried by sand. They seemed to have fused with the stone, gradually blending from one material to the next. She almost didn't want to go through with her vengeance. She however, let her fire die out to make room for her dagger, leaving her alone in the dark with only the weak purple glow of the heart. And with an angry howl, sh plunged her dagger beneath the surface and jammed it into the pulsating heart at the bottom.

She expected for the organ to bust and for the cave to go dark. She expected a whoop of pain from the spirits within and outside of the cave. She expected to hear a great cry and to the jungle moan out its death wail.

But instead she sat there panting heavily with frenzied adrenaline in the soft purple glow, her dagger still in hand—now dripping—catching the only light. Her breathing gradually slowed and she was left in complete and horrible silence. She thought to take another strike but found herself at an odd loss of energy. From her knife a small puddle of water was forming. It trailed down the cave floor where it soaked into the cloth of Azula's pants at the kneecap. She shifted in discomfort away from the water. Her mind was numb, she couldn't fathom why it didn't work. This time she did take a second shot.

This time she was thrown back by the water.

Her head connected with the cave wall, leaving her both dazed and terrified all at once. The water twisted and bended and finally took shape. Azula sat herself up and held a hand to her pulsing head. The impact had broken skin. Her blood warmly slipped between her fingers. She uttered a pained wince and at last, looked up. A lion-vulture made of water stood before her on two legs. If she had to fight it to get to the heart, so be it.

Azula rose, despite everything willing her not to. She dropped the dagger and tossed a ball of fire in the direction of the spirt. It opened a hole in its belly and let the flame pass through before closing it up again. In retaliation it tossed her into the wall again, this time her back took the brunt of the blow. She fell upon her hands and knees and stopped to retrieve her breath. She stood again, narrowing her eyes at the beast. It wasn't a spirit at all she realized, it was a decoy.

"Come out and give me a real fight." She demanded to the darkness.

"I don't think you want that." Came her answer.

"I do." She replied. "More than anything."

Azula watched the water retreat back to its rightful place and refill the hole. There was a distinct crack as something peeled only half of itself from the cave wall. Exactly what had done so, Azula couldn't tell. But she could make out something that could pass for a torso and a head. She also had some semblance of knowledge that it had been there for eons, always watching.

Always protecting.

It seemed to be made of rock, or had the rock simply grown to cover it? Whatever the case, the thing extended out a little further emitting a sound of rock scraping rock, and grabbed Azula's chin with elongated, spindly fingers. Fingers that had more strength than their appearance would let on. Azula winced again at the rough hold it had on her face. But she would do no more than that. Some two or three feet higher above her head, two glowing purple slits opened. She had judged right; one of the somethings was a head. A third, wider, more zigzagged slit opened, "what should I do to you, princess?" Accompanied with a malevolent grin, the way the creature spat the title out, stripped it of any dignity that came with it. Somehow the cave spirit had turned such an elegant, beautiful title into a rotten, vile thing. She knew then that she had been in over her head.

He turned her head up so she could directly look him in the eye. "What? Should I do to you?" Still she gave him no answer. So, just as harshly as he had lifted her up, he threw her back to the floor. She remained there, on her back for a moment until the pain faded away enough for her to prop herself up on her forearms. The spirit would allow her no more room to do anything else. He shed himself further away from the wall and came down to look upon her. Under his glower she found herself shaking despite all intentions not to. "I imagine that you're the one who has been wreaking havoc on my beautiful jungle; burning sacred things, disturbing spirit pools, talking to spirits as if you have the right to. Humans are such ugly things."

Azula cringed at the accusations, knowing very well that almost none of them were wrong. But she did have the right, if anyone had the right to talk to and make demands of the spirits it was she, the princess, the rightful Fire Lord.

"You enjoy talking to spirits, so speak! Or do you only raise your voice when it's unwanted."

A million things came to mind, but she couldn't grasp one. She considered telling him to piss off and in the same heartbeat considered begging him to please leave her alone. All at once she thought to deny his accusations and then she thought to just confess, "yes, I set you're ridiculous mangrove tree on fire." She parted hear lips to do so, but vocalized none.

"I see. I am correct."

"You aren't." She said at last.

"About which matter? Did you not cause my jungle strife or do you not speak when it's not asked of you?" The spirit questioned.

"I do not speak when it's unwanted. My opinion is always valued." Azula knew that, that was one of many wrong answers as soon as it left her lips. Then again, she felt as if everything she said would have been wrong. If she denied the accusations he'd scold her for lying. If she fessed up he'd have berated her for being too bold in a situation where even she knew that she had no right to be. If she boasted of her importance, he would her for arrogance. If she begged for forgiveness he would have told her that she didn't deserve it. And if she had kept quiet…God forbid she had kept quiet. Deep down she felt like that would have been the worst way to go.

Apparently, her response had tickled the spirit's humor for he was chuckling. She was relived and humiliated all at once; never had she had her status undermined like so. The moment was fleeting though, and he was back in her face scowling. "On the contrary, opinions from someone like yourself should be habitually disregarded."

Azula's face, previously red with embarrassment was now flushed with anger. As had become a horrible habit for her, she lashed out, striking the spirit in the head with a flurry of flame. She expected an immediate retaliation; a toss across the cave or a good smack on the cheek. Instead the spirit fixed her with a malicious smirk. "I know exactly what to do with you."

"You're going to kill me, aren't you." Azula resigned.

He stroked her cheek pseudo-tentatively. "Of course not. What kind of punishment is death? There are no lessons to be learned."

Azula's stomach churned, fear was finally setting in and much too late. Perhaps if it had set in earlier on she could have made herself out to be a lost, sympathetic soul.

"I can throw you around as much as I want. I can shatter your bones in many ways. I can strike you as much as I want, but you won't truly break. Will you?" The spirit didn't wait for an answer. "You're a human of unwavering pride. Unshakably arrogant and painfully self-righteous."

Azula felt the knots in her belly tighten with each truth. When thrown back in her face, it seemed so much worse than it was. Azula swallowed down the lump in her throat.

"That's what needs to be attacked, isn't it?" The spirit mused aloud. He came to loom over her again and pressed his pointer to her forehead. She could see something There came an awful burst of pain and she cried out. She could feel her face bursting, she had the strength to touch it, just to make sure it was just a sensation. But Agni, oh Agni she swore that it wasn't, for her hand came back sticky with blood and something quite foul smelling. Her face blistered, and in some place swell.

He wasn't going to make this easy for her, not at all.

The same sensation befell her arms and legs and then her stomach, from there it branched out until the agony was everywhere. Through the pain she wasn't aware of the shrieks tearing from her own throat. The worst of it was that she couldn't see what was happening to her. For all she knew it could have been an illusion. On her belly, erupted what felt like a rash. On her arm a few painful boils and welts. Azula couldn't be sure, but she could have sworn she wailed for him to make it stop, pleaded for it. Her speculation was confirmed when he answered, "see, you're swallowing your pride already." And like that, it was over. That was all he was waiting for. But the damage had been done. The pain fell mostly away, leaving in its wake only a dull throbbing.

A dull throbbing and an assortment of welts, swells, and bruises among other things.

But the spirit wasn't quite satisfied with his handiwork yet. He stooped down and propped her up against a stalagmite nearest to the pool in an uncannily caring manner. From his hand he ignited a flame of his own. "Go on. Look." It wasn't a suggestion. She hesitantly obeyed. Just like he had done to her title; he had warped something beautiful into a vile and rotten thing. She wasn't a complete mess of sores, welts, and blemishes but there was a generous amount of them. And the swelling—mostly around her eye and some on her lip, that was still painful to the touch. She looked away and drew her legs up to her chest.

"How's this?" The spirit asked. "I'm not a demon and I'm not, by nature, a wicked spirit. So I pose you an offer."

She tilted her head in his direction, not feeling up to doing much more than that.

"As I said punishments offer room to learn and grow, yes?" This time the spirit didn't try to coax a reaction. "We'll treat this as a…" he wracked his brain for a good word before settling on 'curse'. "If you can find someone who you love truly—it can be romantic or platonic—someone who you'd put before yourself, the pain will stop. You will be as you were."

"How dismal." Azula mustered.

The spirit, now fully detached from the wall, knelt down in front of her. "How about this, we'll make it easy." He waited for a moment. "He or she doesn't even have to love you back." He drummed his fingers atop her head. "Have we a deal?"

Easy? She thought. Easy. A fresh sense of helplessness overtook her. She lowered herself back onto the ground, the more jagged of the rocks poked and prodded her left ribcage. "I suppose." She replied weakly.

"Then it is settled." He latched himself back onto the wall and began to meld back with it. "Oh, and one more thing; after you show yourself out, you are forbidden to come back for any reason. Mercy doesn't come to those who test me a second time." The last thing to mold back into the wall was that cruel purple smile.

Azula lie on the floor looking like something fresh out of a plague town, weeping bitterly to herself. She had come to make them pay, so why was she the one getting her comeuppance?