A woman holds her two children close upon that night, soft words spoken to them as the moon shines in through a crack in the ceiling. She speaks of tales grander than them, than their little village, of a world once full of life and of hope, when the balance of the nations was kept and all was at peace.

She tells them the story of the Avatar.

Long ago, it is said that the four bending nations lived together in peace and harmony, in a balance that was maintained only by the Avatar, the bearer of all four elements themselves. This Avatar was reborn, again and again, and as the cycle carried on, the Avatar was always there to keep the peace, and to ensure that the world did not fall out of balance.

The Avatar has not been heard from in a very, very long time. Indeed, even before then, the last few Avatars known to the world were said to have been cursed—always broken or killed far too early, never fully realizing their potential, for better or for worse. It was as if the world had decided it no longer needed an Avatar. At least, this is what the Fire Nation would have its citizens believe.

The last Fire Nation Avatar, Avatar Roku, was said to have been a bright and promising young boy, smart and strong-willed and empowered, it seemed, with the very warmth and strength of fire itself, even at such a young age—but he was also said to have been a surprisingly even-tempered and calm child, one who evened out the more brash young boy that was his best friend, Sozin. Heir to the Fire Nation throne, Sozin was said to have been born on the very same day as Roku himself—and the two became fast friends throughout their childhoods, until one day when the two were 6 years old, the Royal Family made plans for a vacation in the colonies. It must have only seemed natural to have invited Roku, the Crown Prince's best friend—and though he was young, truly far too young to have been traveling so far without his family, who were they to deny such a request from the Royal Family itself?

Illness took him, in the end; Earth Kingdom illness, a fever unlike any that the Fire Nation royal healers had seen the likes of before which beset the child just days after he had returned from the trip. They say that in his final hours, his tiny body twice tried to fight off the fever with glowing eyes and swirling elements—the first, and last, signs that he was the world's newest Avatar. And yet, in the end, he simply stopped fighting—as if he knew it was no use, that he was only prolonging his inevitable death. (Legend always said that an Avatar who died while at their most powerful would break the cycle—so perhaps it was for the best that young Roku did give in, in the end.)

The next Avatar was Gyatso, an airbender of great promise and wisdom. He spent much of his youth traveling the world alone, healing ills between people and solving as many of the world's problems as he could, fulfilling well his role of Avatar; however, in his later years, he retreated to rejoin his own people, as the world seemed at peace. Avatar Gyatso spent his days, then, helping to raise the next generation of airbenders for the world. Rumor was that he angered the sages in this way—that he took a particular shine to a young prodigy that he saw as a surrogate son, and was thusly ordered to return to his full-time Avatar duties and travel the world again, as he had done before. It was immediately after the Avatar left to carry out the sages' wishes that Fire Lord Sozin had attacked, utilizing the power of the hundred-year comet to wipe out the Air Nomads completely.

But not Gyatso. Though he was never confirmed to have been found anywhere, many claim that he traveled the world in secret after the genocide, never publicly appearing again as the Avatar but instead operating in some sort of secret society, always one step ahead of those who sought him out. No one knows exactly when or how he died—but it is likely that when he did, it was on his own terms, perhaps of old age, or of simple illness. His death, at least, could not be attributed to the Fire Nation at all, much to the Fire Lord's chagrin.

After Gyatso came Ila, of the Southern Water Tribe. She was reportedly a very clever and well-mannered girl, and she was confirmed—in secret—as the Avatar at just 15 years of age, having developed a talent for both water and earthbending. But before she could leave to fully realize her title as the Avatar, the Fire Nation began to attack her village, taking more and more waterbenders each time.

Ila might have managed to hide her status as the Avatar, true—but this was not enough. At the age of 17, she was taken, alongside the last other remaining waterbender in the tribe, and imprisoned. Avatar Ila eventually tried to break free from her imprisonment, and to free her fellow tribesmen as well, using both her water and earthbending—and thusly revealing herself as the Avatar—but she was overpowered by the Fire Nation soldiers who guarded the prisoners, and was killed.

The Avatar that came after her was perhaps the most elusive of any Avatar—never officially coming forward as the Avatar at all. However, legends do speak of a man who traveled the Earth Kingdom, doing what he could to help those he came across—but never using the elements to do so, and never once traveling beyond the Earth Kingdom's borders. As such, the man was renown as a kindred spirit—but it was not until much later, when his appearances had grown farther and farther between, that people began to whisper that perhaps he was the Avatar, maintaining balance in the only way he could dare without drawing the attention of the Fire Nation.

No one knows what became of him—or if he is still out there at all. The Avatar has not been heard from in years, in any case—whether as the Avatar, or simply as the traveling friend-to-the-Earth-Kingdom who many had revered. The Fire Nation, of course, has relished in this respite, branding the Avatar as a worthless coward worthy only of mocking and not respect. The Avatar has not been feared for many seasons—the Avatar has not posed a threat to anyone for many seasons. The Fire Nation has spread itself over the globe, conquering all in its path, unchallenged.

The Fire Nation is at peace, and the world is at war.

The mother, clad in blue, falls silent as her story ends. The words she has used have been kinder, gentler than the tale she knows, softened for her children, but at the heart of the story the truth still remains, unyielding. She strokes her daughter's hair as she blinks sleepily up at her, eyes wide and full of an innocence that only a child could have in this time of war. Her brother sleeps already, his soft snoring proof enough of his slumber. Their mother stoops to give him a kiss to the forehead, even as her remaining child begins to drift off, and she stays there, sitting beside the two of them, and hums softly, a quiet lullaby for her two precious children.

She remains at their side for a long time, well after they are both deep in sleep. She does not want to leave them, even for the night. Fear grips her, that something horrible will happen if she leaves them alone here, even though the fear is silly. Still, the feeling remains—some sense of foreboding.

"Kya," comes the soft voice of her husband, as he comes into the room, gentle gaze resting on each of their children in turn. She smiles in spite of herself at the love she sees there, and at the depth of the love she sees when he turns his eyes on her.

"Kya," he repeats. "Come along to bed."

Reluctantly, she rises, careful not to disturb her son and daughter's dreams, and follows her husband into their room, the outer room of their house of ice. Their children will be safe. If anything is to happen, they will be the first to know. They will be safe.

Elsewhere, a mother clad in robes of red kisses her sleeping son on the cheek, not having to worry about his safety at all.

The next day, ash falls from the sky in the blue-clad mother's village.