CHAPTER NINE: AN IMPENETRABLE DARKNESS

Reconstruction of the Fire Lord's throne room had finally finished last week, and it was a change that was long overdue. The hall Sozin built over a century ago had divorced the Fire Lord from the holy touch of the sun. Why there were no windows, nobody understood. The ominous wall of flames had also been a strange decorative choice. It certainly made going into the throne room an unforgettable experience, but in all the wrong ways.

The servants around the palace had strongly supported Zuko's plans. The walls were now lined with tall translucent windows, glowing heavenly in the sun. Thus there was no need for a giant fire to provide light, and it was torn down. Instead, ten rows of small candles led up to the throne, and each of the flames flickered in unison with the Fire Lord's breath. It was a much more hospitable and serene experience.

Last week, Zuko had also been pleasantly surprised to hear that Avatar Aang finally took away Azula's bending. The outcome had been as expected: Azula was distorted and stunned, but in much better shape than Ozai. She would need time to recover and plenty of therapy, but an end was now in sight. Two days ago, she'd finally been released from her chains and was given the chance to stand and walk around the cell.

Finally seeing her again was all Zuko could think about, even as his Royal Architect gave a tour of the newly furnished palace to a group of aristocrats. He followed closely behind the crowd, but their conversation was a distant mumble. He was deep in thought, trying to think of what to say to his sister. There was no easy way to say "I love you" with their history.

He recalled one foggy morning at the Western Air Temple when Azula's fleet of airships attacked the Avatar. Zuko fought back, not to protect Aang but to destroy Azula. Their life-long rivalry for dominance had culminated in one motion where they were both tossed off a blimp. Zuko was saved, but Azula just kept falling.

That's when everything seemed to change. Zuko watched her and felt his heart sink into his stomach. She wasn't going to make it. The idea of losing his only sibling, his little sister, finally hit him. That gravity of love reeled him in.

Of course, she saved herself, and he still despised her.

Yet that feeling of losing her continued to haunt him. Sure, Azula was too violent to be kept in power, and he had to stop her, but he couldn't kill her. He wouldn't let her rot away in that cell. For the last two years, he'd been anxious to see her recover, but she only got worse. That's when he knew he would have to take radical measures and enlisted Aang's help. Now with the hard part out of the way, Zuko could finally see her again. They could talk and maybe even get along like they use to when they were children. Those tiny bursts of compassion and kinship had been out of reach for years, ever since Azula changed...

Their tour reached the new throne hall where the guests voiced their astonishment and praise for Zuko's refurbishing. He never really heard them but thanked them nonetheless as his mind continued to wander.

A young servant was suddenly at his ear whispering, "Message for you, my Lord."

"Can it wait?" Zuko was busy trying to filter his guests out of the hall, and there was still a line eager to speak with him.

"Of course, my Lord." The servant bowed and stiffly moved out of the way.

After saying his goodbyes and a long conversation regarding the economy, Zuko's throne room finally fell silent. He let out a relieved sigh and quickly made his way to the throne. He could've easily just taken the message from his servant at the doorway, but there was an unspoken tradition to the royal order. He would sit down and make himself comfortable in the grandiose seat, then the servant would slowly walk down the hall, lower himself to his knees, and speak once given permission.

"This message comes from Dr. Jung at the Capital City Prison."

Zuko sat up, and the candles mimicked his excitement. Jung was the therapist overlooking Azula's recovery.

The servant didn't go on, so Zuko had to prompt a response, "Yes?"

"My Lord. Your sister has passed away."

The young man had spoken so business-like, Zuko didn't believe it at first. The sober tone didn't fit. Something was off. It felt like a lie. It hadn't happened. It could't have happened after all the time and energy Zuko poured into her recovery.

He had to ask, "What?"

The young servant hesitated, then spoke somberly, "I'm so sorry my Lord."

The flames of a hundred candles seemed to freeze in time, holding their breath. Despite the sunlight and fire, Zuko felt unspeakably cold. His veins chilled and his heart sunk into a frozen depth. She couldn't be dead, not after everything she went through.

"Was that all?" The Fire Lord brought himself to ask. He had to fight the last word as tears flicked the eyelashes of his right eye.

"Jung believes that she killed herself. Again, I am sorry my Lord." The servant stood and gave Zuko a stiff bow.

Zuko barely managed to shoo the young man away before his voice gave out. The flames of his candles withered and cracked. Sparks erupted from a few as he struggled to catch his breath. His insides felt like they were contracting and tying themselves into a tangled mess.

His sister's name would be lost. No one would publicly mourn her passing. The history books would forget about her treacherous achievements. With luck, she'd be mentioned as the Princess who almost became Fire Lord. Or she'd be the Princess who took over Ba Sing Se, then promptly lost it.

One thing was for sure, she wouldn't be honored as Zuko's sister. Their relationship, or lack thereof, would never blossom. The Last Agni Kai of the War would forever go down as the culmination of their history, once again trying to kill each other. They would never make amends and proudly call each themselves brother and sister.

"I hope you don't mind me keeping you here."

Once Iroh had poured a suitable amount of tea for his guest he just smiled and replied, "Not at all. The Avatar is welcome any time."

Aang thanked him and carefully sipped his cup. It seemed to scorch his tongue, but the burn only left a wonderful taste of Jasmine leaves. He eagerly took another sip and thanked Iroh for the free drink.

A few customers were still being entertained by a geisha playing her shamisen, and Aang felt that it was only appropriate to wait until after they left before speaking his mind. Iroh understood, and the two casually caught up on life until the rowdy group left the tea shop.

Iroh shut and locked the doors before sitting back down. He extinguished the lanterns hanging above all the tables except their own, putting them in a soft spotlight. Aang knew that Iroh didn't like to use his firebending around the customers. Most didn't even know he was foreign, and they never bothered to ask for his name. They simply knew him as Uncle Jasmine, the nickname a few neighborhood kids had given him.

Iroh took a sip of his own tea, savoring every drop of its enriching taste. The old man almost always drank Jasmine, but he assured everyone that his favorite tea was Gin Seng, a brew he only made on very special occasions.

Aang understood the mysterious appeal of Iroh. His life was an enigma outside of his drinking and eating habits. Except for a proverb or wise saying, there were never any clues regarding his feelings of the past. Surely he regretted his invasion of Ba Sing Se, the city he now called home, but he hadn't been present at Zuko's coronation either. It was a decision he refused to speak of, leading some to suspect that the great General Iroh was no longer loyal to the Fire Nation at all. Most of the Fire Nation still had no idea where he was.

Aang believed Iroh wasn't loyal to any nation. His tea shop reflected that with its vast array of artifacts from around the world, and Iroh's unwavering acceptance of any nationality. He would've made a great Fire Lord; except assigning himself to that crown would've entrenched him with the Fire Nation, an image he didn't want.

"So." Iroh spoke and somehow made a single word seem like the most important sound in all creation. "I see that you are confused."

"Yes, very confused." Aang admitted. His hands huddled around the cup of tea for warmth.

"It is Azula. Isn't it?"

Aang nodded. "It was always my job to take evil out of the world. That meant killing those who did harm. But I'm an airbender, and its against our way of life to murder."

Iroh nodded his understanding. "So you discovered energybending."

"I thought it could be a way to avoid killing." Aang felt disgusted with himself. He had driven Azula to the nihilism of existence and forced her to collapse. Zuko was right for not speaking to him. "But I killed Azula." Aang squeezed his fingers unbearably tight.

"If I may speak honestly, I do not think Azula deserved to live. You did not know her the way I did, and neither did Zuko. She was crazy, and she had to go down."

Aang shook his head, "What really gets to me is that I thought my way of life was safe. I thought that I didn't have to kill anyone to save the world. Energybending was my answer." But that answer had yielded the same result as a sword. It was even more disturbing, because Aang hadn't just killed Azula, but destroyed her identity as well.

"Then this is not a question of good and evil," Iroh observed, "It is a question of self."

"I betrayed my morals."

"But for the right reasons."

Aang diverted his eyes. Azula was too dangerous to be kept in the state she was in. He knew that. But it still didn't change the outcome. He curled his lip.

"Aang, your journey isn't going to be easy. Truth is complicated, and there is no easy answer to the problems of our world. Evil and good are not as simple as who kills and who doesn't."

Aang sighed, "Right. Zuko seems to blame me for this."

"My nephew only blames himself. Prince Zuko," Iroh coughed and corrected himself, "Fire Lord Zuko probably sees you as a reminder of his failure. It will take some time for him to recover."

Aang nodded, but didn't necessarily agree. Still, he had to nod and smile. Iroh reminded him of Monk Gyatso, the only other father he'd had in life.

"Zuko will come to his senses." Iroh assured. He took a long drink of his tea, then carefully set down the empty cup. "The world is a dark place. It always has been. Sometimes we think that we are doing the right thing, acting as a beacon of light to drive out the darkness, only to find that later in life we were wrong. We were working for the darkness, and by that time it is too late." He spoke from experience.

And someday, Aang would speak to the next generation with the same kind of experience.

After a few more cups of tea, Aang and Iroh bowed and wished each other good luck. Iroh packed up and strolled back to his apartment, whistling some nursery tune Aang barely remembered from his childhood. Aang watched the man walk off, remarking on his outstanding posture even in old age.

The Avatar saddled Appa and took off into the warm summer night. They soared high above the metropolis of Ba Sing Se, which seemed to sprawl out in a never-ending carpet of light.

He wanted to fly back to the Fire Nation and talk with Zuko. It seemed like talking was the only solace Aang could find in this world. But Zuko was still mourning Azula's death and still blamed Aang for messing with her head.

He was left searching for an answer to his philosophy; a philosophy that seemed to be more childish each and every day. Maybe the idea of never killing anyone worked in Air Nomad society, since airbenders wouldn't even do anything deserving death. They didn't steal, they didn't corrupt, and they didn't murder. But outside the Air Temples, life was different.

Aang suddenly felt a chill creep through his body. The summer night seemed to dissolve into a bitter winter. An impenetrable darkness swallowed him, and he was brought back to the cell facing Azula's stunning smile. They had battled for dominance and control, and Aang thought he had emerged victorious.

But in death she had decimated Aang's trust in himself. His own values were proven to be lies. His answer to death wasn't an answer at all, but just another weapon. He now had a face that would haunt his nightmares, reminding him of his failure to uphold the Air Nomads' way.

In death, the seeds of doubt between himself and Zuko had finally sprouted. The Fire Lord, Aang's most trusted ally in this chaotic world, refused to look at him. Their friendship would never be the same.

Aang let out a nervous laugh and smiled out of respect. Even with the weight of a corrupt world crushing his shoulders, he had to admire the meaningless irony of Azula's death. She had won.

T H E E N D