PROLOGUE

Seven months after the Avatar left Gaoling...

"THEY SAY TIME IS THE FIRE IN WHICH WE BURN."

"And a lovely good morning to you, too, Kojima."

Kojima smiled, a thin sliver underneath closed eyes, the perfect picture of relaxed calm as he laid out on his prison cot. "Indeed, my lord."

His visitor lingered in the doorway, leaned against the wall, and took in the scene. The cell was almost perfectly uncomfortable, not small enough to be claustrophobic, not large enough to be even remotely pleasant. It was very bare, the stone walls plain and unadorned, the only items being the aforementioned cot, a chair, and something that it would be insulting to call a desk. It was drafty and cold, and the summer sun outside did nothing to bring even the slightest bit of warmth to the surroundings. Despite all of this, the occupant, the man many knew as Kojima, looked almost sublime, arms folded into a pillow underneath his head, feet propped on the end-board of a bed that was far too small.

Somehow, this surprised the man known as Matsuura Jiro not in the least.

"Leave us." Jiro said this, not to the prisoner, but to the guard who had brought him there. The guard gave a quick bow, muttered, "As you wish, my lord," and made himself scarce. Jiro watched the man go out of the corner of his eye, then shoved off from the wall and stepped into the cell, pulling the chair aside and settling himself into it.

Silence reigned. The ebbs and currents of the prison thrummed at the edges of Jiro's consciousness, but he ignored it all. Before him, the former lackey to the so-called Crown Prince of the Fire Nation lounged, seemingly oblivious to the world. All was very still, very calm, serene, almost, as if the man was stretched out in a field of soft grass on a cool spring day. Chuckling at the mental image, Jiro reached into his pocket and pulled out a pack of plain, Army-issue cigarettes. He lit one with a snap of his fingers, and held the open pack out. "Care for a smoke, Kojima?"

Kojima pursed his lips in thought. "You know, don't mind if I do." With lazy, resigned motions, he opened his eyes and heaved himself into a sitting position, swinging around so that his feet dangled on the floor. He took the proffered cigarette, sticking it in his mouth, watching Jiro with eyes veiled in pools of darkness. "You wouldn't happen to have a match, now, would you, my lord?"

Jiro scoffed. "Don't play that game with me, Kojima."

Kojima chuckled. "I suppose it is rather pointless at this stage of things." Without another word, he produced a match, seemingly from nowhere, the head flaring into flame as he scratched across the wall, heedless of the fact that matches were forbidden. He lit his cigarette, taking several long, relaxed drags as he waved the match out. There was a moment, as the cigarette flared to life, where his dark brown eyes flashed in the gloom of the cell.

Jiro looked right into those eyes, and those eyes looked right into his.

Neither flinched.

"So," Jiro said, settling back into what he hesitated to call a chair with a sigh, "how long has it been, Kojima?"

"Since we last saw each other, or since I got thrown in here?"

"Since you got thrown in here, of course. I remember very well when we last saw each other."

Kojima nodded, leaning back against the wall behind the cot. "Indeed. Well…" He screwed up his face, eyes narrowed, looking off into a world even Jiro didn't bother to contemplate. "Prince Zuko was slain last fall, and the Crown Prince and I were thrown into prison on the same day about six weeks later, so…six months, seventeen days, give or take a few hours."

"Accurate as always, Kojima."

Kojima bowed his head in acknowledgment. "Thank you, my lord. Though," and here, his face twisted itself into something akin to a grimace, "since we're on the subject of time, and in regards to my earlier statement…"

Jiro chuckled. "Ah, yes, I was wondering what the point of that was."

"Maybe there was no point," Kojima observed.

Jiro snorted in derision. "With you? There's always a point."

"Wheels within wheels?" Kojima offered.

"Quite. But, as for the subject of time…I'm afraid that your little…vacation here could not be avoided."

"Oh, I was quite aware of that, my lord. After all, one does not knock off former princes with more popularity than even they themselves realize without some amount of…shall we say…fallout. Still…"

Jiro raised a placating hand. "I know, I know. And trust me, I feel just awful about how long you've had to molder in here-"

"Of that, I have no doubt."

Jiro shot the man a hard look before allowing himself to continue. "Indeed. Still, as I said, I would've sprung you much sooner, only His Majesty my uncle was…well…a bit angrier than I anticipated."

Kojima chuckled, a sound even a man such as Jiro didn't like. "At the risk of sounding smug, my lord, I'm afraid that I anticipated such a rage."

"Well, Kojima, what would life be without you being able to be unnaturally right all the time?"

"A great deal more exciting for myself, my lord."

Jiro took a moment to regard his cigarette, to watch the smoke drift lazily towards the ceiling. "One of these days, Kojima, I'm going to get inside that horrid little brain of yours and figure out what makes you tick."

Kojima shrugged; if he noticed the implied threat, he didn't show it. "Better men than you have tried, my lord."

"No doubt. But what about smarter men?"

"Smarter men know better than to pry into such things."

Jiro chuckled. "Quite. But, as I was saying, it ended up being a bit more delicate than I had anticipated, convincing His Majesty to allow me to take you out of here and into my service."

Kojima popped an eyebrow. "How can I be taken into service by one I already serve?"

"You know…I was just considering that little philosophical conundrum the other day…"

"And what answer did my lord come up with?"

Jiro allowed himself to smile. He didn't expect the sight to make Kojima quail in fear or anything mundane like that, but he was very satisfied to see the man blink a bit. My smile is my weapon, he thought. My smile is my sword. My smile is the feint that precedes the tip of the knife as it slides into my enemy's back.

My smile is me.

"That such questions were academic, and besides, I couldn't help but feel you deserved a little punishment. After all, we can't forget that it was Azula you were supposed to steer the fool of a prince towards, not Zuko."

Kojima shrugged. "I did my best, my lord. Alas, one must make do with the tools at hand, and His Royal Highness is, I'm afraid, a bit on the blunt side, as tools go."

Jiro rolled his eyes. "If that isn't the understatement of the century, I don't know what is. Still, you did get the job done, after a fashion, even if Zuko's disappearance from the stage has forced me to alter some of my plans."

One of Kojima's eyebrows went down, while the other popped right up. "Disappearance, my lord? Surely you mean death."

Jiro's smile disappeared, leaving something no words exist to describe. "I know you've gotten used to working for an idiot whose imbecility is only matched by his ego," he said, his voice harsh and cold, like a knife scrapped across a rock, "but that's no excuse for trying to play your little games with me."

Kojima bowed his head, the closest he ever came to genuine apology. "Naturally, my lord." A silence fell, silence broken only by the crinkle of burning cigarette paper and the measured humming of a guard, echoing out above the click of boot heels and the jingle of keys bouncing on a hip.

For all that it was silence, it was a very loud silence. Many things were said, many things were uttered. Wheels turned within wheels, plots bent and twisted and gutted each other, schemes slid up behind other schemes and slit their throats. Jiro looked to the tiny window, high up in the cell wall, almost to the ceiling, through the thick bars and off into a sky burnt by the sun. The city was out there, the capital of the most powerful nation on the planet. A city that glittered in the sunlight, and quaked in the night, a city loomed over by a ring of mountains and the striding giants who played with the lives and souls of humanity like they were so many Pai Sho tiles.

Miyako.

The City.

My city.

Soon…

For a moment, he wasn't in a prison cell. No, he was at his father's estate. A fire crackled in the darkness, the shadows dancing like demons in a puppet show. He was eighteen, days away from deployment, and his father stood, watched, nodding, Jiro's smile on his own lips, while Jiro spoke to a man whose name he didn't pretend to know, but called Kojima.

Allow my fool of a cousin's insecurities to gnaw him inside out. Guide him down the path to Azula's destruction, before she becomes even more of a threat. Bring Zuko to my side, into my camp. When the time comes, I will eliminate him myself, and then, the throne shall be mine.

Jiro sighed. It was a good plan, no, not good, perfect, right down to the perfect tool to execute it, a man with cold eyes filled with death and lacking even the semblance of a moral compass. I envied him, Jiro remembered. I envied how he never had to pretend to be anything but what he was: A monster. But it was not to be. His cousins lived, Zuko and Azula, and only the gods knew where they might be, what they might be doing.

And I have to destroy the Avatar, without the strength of will and good public image that having Zuko at my side would've brought to me.

He sighed. No matter. Plan B it is.

"I need a right-hand man, Kojima."

Kojima nodded, pursing his lips in thought. "Do you, my lord?"

Jiro shrugged. "It was supposed to be Zuko, if you remember, but he's a lost cause, whether he's dead or not. Even if he's not, His Majesty my uncle believes he is, and that's what matters."

"And what," Kojima said, sliding further down his wall, his eyes closing, "does that have to do with me?"

"I need a right-hand man, and with Azula on the loose, I need a monster to protect me."

Kojima chuckled. "Surely you don't need help protecting yourself."

Jiro scoffed. "From Azula? I need all the help I can get. Sure, she doesn't know I'm a threat now, but she'll figure it out soon enough. And when that day comes…"

"You would feel better with me by your side," Kojima finished.

"I would."

"That," Kojima said, taking a last drag off his cigarette before tossing it to the hard stone floor, "was not the deal."

Payment of large sum upon completion, forget you ever existed. Jiro knew the deal well. "Consider it your penance for failing at the original plan."

Jiro was not in the least bit surprised at how quickly Kojima did the math. "Fair enough. I'm your man to the death, my lord."

Jiro laughed as he rose, tossing his cigarette to the ground and crushing it out with his boot. "Or until you get a better deal."

Kojima chuckled as he heaved himself up from his cot. "I am trustworthy in my untrustworthiness, my lord. No doubt the justification you used to get His Majesty your uncle to agree to taking me from here."

"It was a bit more flowery than that," Jiro admitted, inwardly groaning at the verbal gymnastics he had had to go through to get the Fire Lord to agree, "but that was the heart of the argument."

"And the heart of the argument is what matters."

"Right up until you rip it out."

Kojima smiled. "Quite, my lord."

Jiro smiled right back. "Indeed."

Both of their smiles were gone by the time they left the cell and headed out into the world. No need to frighten anyone just yet.

ANNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNDDDDDDDDDDDD...we're back! Are you excited? I know I am. I'm pretty fucking stoked about this project, and how it's all coming together.

A few notes on what you're about to read. First off: We're going to be bouncing around a lot more. There will be a few more characters, a few more viewpoints, a few more threads to keep track of. I hope I've done well in keeping the various balls in the air, and preventing them from colliding with each other. Please let me know if I'm losing you at any point; that's something I can fix as I go along.

Second off, sorry, this won't be as Zutara-centric as the first book. Hope you guys don't mind.

Third off, be prepared. *hums the song from Lion King* There will be major character death. The stakes are high, and not everyone is going to make it.

Make your bets now, because no one is safe.

About the posting schedule, the book is actually about...two-third/three-fourths done. I know, right? Fucking awesome. I'm way ahead of you guys. Thus, you will be getting chapters more or less every weekday, time permitting. This, however, will be the only chapter you get today. Consider it something to whet your appetite, give you time to get subscribed, let you settle in.

Now, though, it's time to go cuddle with the wife. It's cold here in Texas, cold and wet, and we have a very fluffy blanket. Oh, and wine. And hot chocolate. And Netflix. Yes, the life of a writer with the world's most amazing wife. Awesome, right? And I'm being completely serious.

Anyways, we begin! In the next chapter, which you will get tomorrow, we pick up about six months later, on the cusp of winter, and hang out with Mai and Ty Lee as they head out for tea and snacks with a friend. Stay tuned!