The Boy in the Temple

She found him near the edge of the turtle duck pond, curled up in a tight ball. His head peeked over his knees as he stared sullenly at the smooth water.

"There you are, Zuko!" Ursa exclaimed, although she hardly expected him to be anywhere else. The palace grounds were expansive—bigger than many Earth Kingdom cities even—and yet she could always count on her son to be by the turtle duck pond.

Except for a furrowing of his frown, Zuko gave no sign of his mother's approach. She sat down next to him and gently began to rub his back. "What's wrong? You ran off without telling anyone." Her slender but strong hands worked in soothing circles, and slowly the tension unwound from her son's muscles.

"Why can't I bend like Azula?!" Zuko finally blurted out. "She's already mastered all the beginning katas...and—and—I can't even do the first one right!" He buried his face deeper into his knees. "The teacher thinks so himself."

"Ohh, Zuko..." No doubt Azula had been teasing him about his abilities. Ursa's mouth set into a pinched line. She would have to have a talk with her. "You've only began firebending a few months ago."

The day that Zuko had first bent fire flared in her mind. His face was aglow as he grinned, lifting up a cupped hand, "Look, mom, I can firebend!", a stark contrast to his expression now. She had almost given up hope in him then. He was nine, and firebending children usually manifested abilities at age eight. Indeed, Azula had done so, quick to show off her flashy moves. There were whispers among the fire sages that the boy was not a firebender at all, but a nonbender. Ursa could still see the dangerous glint in Ozai's eyes, and feel the cold disappointment radiating from him. "You know why I chose you, Ursa", he would hiss in her ear, "you and the boy are a disgrace." Descended from a long line of powerful firebenders, she was supposed to be the perfect bride. For her son, a fire nation prince, to be a nonbender—it was unacceptable.

"You need to give yourself time," she said. For his sake, she would not let him give up, not when Ozai's veiled threats still burned in her mind.

"Azula doesn't need time," Zuko muttered, "she just gets it."

"Don't you mind Azula! You'll catch up, it's— "

Zuko shot up, hands balled into fists. "It's not fair!" he shouted across the pond. "Why am I always the weaker one?!" His voice trembled.

Ursa fell back. No longer listening to her son's words, she stared. For, as Zuko stood, shaking, the pond's surface began to ripple.

oOo

"Prince Zuko, perhaps we should abandon this venture," Iroh said softly, stepping up beside his nephew, "after all, only an airbender can open these doors." he rested a hand on Zuko's tensed shoulders.

At the touch, Zuko whirled around, his scarred face contorted in a snarl. "Abandon? Abandon, Uncle?! This is the only lead we have on the airbenders, and you would have me give up?!" In the months since his exile, they had scoured through the Western, Northern, and Eastern Air Temples, and had found the sanctuaries destroyed—either burned down long ago during the invasion, or caved in. The Southern Air Temple was the only one with its sanctuary intact.

"I very much doubt there is any lead, Prince Zuko. It is likely these doors have not been opened in a hundred years. What do you expect to find in there?"

An image of airbenders, laughing and souring on gliders, hidden within the walls of the sanctuary—flashed in Zuko's mind. He shook the thought away. No, that was ridiculous. But if the rumors were true...

"They still exist," Zuko said, mouth set in a hard line. "I know it. There is a chance they have been in this room. I have to find a way to open it."

Iroh sighed. "Very well, Prince Zuko. I'll leave you be." It was better to let his nephew sulk for a few more hours. In the meantime, Iroh thought as he strolled down the dusty corridor, he could sit down with a cup of tea and a game of Pi Sho. His pace lightened. Lieutenant Jee was always an entertaining opponent.

Zuko kept his gaze on the door while his uncle's footsteps faded away. In a scream of frustration, he flung out an arm, sending a spinning flare of fire towards the door. The flames hardly scorched the heavy stone.

He clutched his head, heaving in ragged breaths. Why?! He had spent the last few hours since discovering the room attacking the door, to no avail—the sanctuary remained as impassive as ever. Zuko suddenly felt numb, the heat of his flame dissipating from his fingertips. How was he ever going to go back home now? The last year had been nothing but fruitless—a desperate search among ruins for a people that were supposed to be wiped out. But finding an airbender was his only chance to restore his honor. He had to try.

Zuko sat down, folding his legs beneath him in a lotus pose. He took in deep, measured breaths. Maybe he was approaching the problem wrong, he thought, closing his eyes. Maybe attacking the door was not the way...

oOo

Lieutenant Jee groaned. "You've defeated me again, General. They should call you the Dragon of Pi Sho."

Iroh smiled. "You've gotten better, Lieutenant. This time it took an hour to beat you." The man was good, but too impatient. He only thought a few moves ahead, rather than waiting for the perfect trap. Lieutenant Jee laughed, helping place the pieces back in their original positions. In a rather fortunate find, they had stumbled upon an entire intact Pi Sho table, its pieces still in various places, as if a game had been interrupted (it probably had; Iroh had noted with a frown the Fire Nation armor outside the room).

Iroh gazed out the window. A cool autumn breeze fluttered through. The sun was setting, sinking in between two mountain peaks. "It's getting late," Iroh remarked, sipping his tea. "I must go and check up on my nephew." (surely, he had not been at that door this entire time?)

"I'll go with you," the lieutenant said, getting up. "Walking these hallways alone..." he shook his head, smiling nervously. "It gives me the creeps."

They found Zuko sitting down, facing the door. "Prince Zuko?" Iroh called out. The boy did not answer. He appeared to be in deep meditation.

The world rose and fell in steady breaths. He heard the voice of his uncle, but it came from far away, echoing from the bottom of a cavern. For the past hour Zuko had sat, contemplating over all the firebending he had learned in the past five years. He reached down deep into his body, feeling the heat of his inner fire, that flickering force that warmed his very bones. He had always been taught that fire was an element of power, destructive and consuming. But for all its power, the door still not yielded. He needed to change his technique, channel his element differently. Suddenly, something within him dislodged. Zuko's breaths became lighter; he felt like he was rising into the air. Free.

Zuko opened his eyes. His heart hammered in his chest as he got back on his feet.

Iroh noticed the change in posture, the difference in his nephew's step. "Zuko, what are you doing?" he asked.

Zuko ignored him. He did not know what exactly he was doing, but he felt drawn to this new feeling. The exhilaration was in his blood. With one hand he mimicked the same sweeping motion he had made before.

But this time, instead of the familiar lick of heat against his arm, he was met with the whoosh of wind. The wind rushed out against the door, and with a clicking and shaking of dust, the lock began to rotate.

Iroh stared. The doors yawned wide, a dark expanse within. His nephew was on the floor, knocked back from the gust that had come from his hand. "...Zuko?"

Shaking from head to toe, the boy turned, meeting Iroh's gaze with wide golden eyes.

He could airbend.