8 April. HARU

"Still interested in that reward?"

"Don't tempt me." June pauses, reining Nyla in. "Do you really think you can help the Avatar win? Because if you're not sure, I'll go in and pick him up. We'll split the reward three ways and live comfortably out of sight of the Fire Nation."

"No," Azula says shortly. She and Haru have disembarked at the Northern Air Temple (should've come here first, he laments), led here by June and her shirshu's keen sense of smell. "I won't hide for the rest of my life, and the only way I can do that is by bringing my father and the rest of his crazed army down. I won't give Zuko up."

"Have it your way." June doesn't seem moved by her conviction. "You should know, some fights you can only win for yourself, not for the whole world. Set your sights a little lower, darling, and you won't be so disappointed when you fall."

"Aren't you a brilliant ray of sunshine," Haru intercedes before Azula can further embroil herself in this spiteful conversation. There's no winning with June. "Well, we'll be off then. Thanks for bringing us this far."

She scoffs. "This may be the farthest you'll get."

HHH

"This is so different from the first time we climbed an air temple," Haru remarks as they embark on the path. "It seems like an eternity, but it's only been a few months."

"Different? How so?"

"Well, for one, we're certain of finding what we came for, so that's nice. Two, the path is easy to follow since someone had the forethought to put these markers here." He tugs at a long yellow sash tied to a pine tree determinedly growing at an improbable angle against the wall. "Look."

The tie comes loose, and with a flourish, he slips it off the tree, its end trailing merrily in the light breeze. "And three, you look much happier than the first time." With solemn joyousness, he winds the streamer around her forehead, tying it neatly behind her head to match his own. "Perfect."

She stares up at him, speechless, and he wonders if he has made a misstep yet again. But then she laughs shortly as she unties the headband, refastening it around her waist. It clashes horribly with the green of her robe and the blue of her hairpin, but she is no less beautiful for it.

He follows her up the mountain, her steps chipper and confident, as if she knows the way, as if she's going home.

AZULA

They pass a divot in the side of the mountain along the way where a memorial tablet has been erected, and Azula stops short when she sees whose it is.

Lu Ten

Azure Dragon of the East

Brother, son, beloved

Trust Zuko to be a sentimental fool, even after all these years.

"Our honorable cousin Lu Ten, who fell in battle before the walls of Ba Sing Se five years ago," she explains for Haru's benefit. "Zuko idolized him. I didn't care too much for him until his death paved the way for our father to take the throne. I suppose in a way, he's responsible for the state of our chaotic world."

She takes out a sheet of paper from her pack, amazed that it's survived, only slightly wrinkled and torn, throughout all their travels. "I took this from Zuko's room before we left the palace, thinking something along the lines of using it to win his good graces. Or at least strongarm him into accepting my alliance, a la 'what-would-Lu-Ten-do?' kind of scenario."

She lays the portrait of their late cousin before the cold stone, weighing it down with a rock, a face to be remembered for years to come, or at least as long as it does not rain.

"You can't imagine what dear Lu Ten meant to Zuko. Truly, it's fitting that we've come full circle, and I can venerate him on Zuko's behalf now."

She bows before the memorial tablet, hoping that Lu Ten's spirit does not reject her suppliance as she kneels here in irony.

Dear cousin… tell my idiot brother that I've changed. If you could change the course of the war, and he could change himself from cowering prince into reputable Avatar, then who am I to fall short of you all?

Tell him to give me a chance, by the gods.

AANG

"So, let's run the list one more time," Sokka says, unfurling his agenda. "Everyone ready?"

Various affirmatives from around the room. They're gathered in Teo's workshop ("most secure location in the Northern Air Temple, rest assured"). Toph slouches, lying on the floor, feet propped up on a bench, all ears if not eyes. Teo continues soldering elements of his new glider prototype together while Katara holds the tools steady for him, both of them listening intently in spite of appearing otherwise.

Next to Aang, Zuko looks less than present, a mere "Mhm" to indicate his attention as Sokka launches into his sixteenth (well, Aang's lost count) iteration of The Plan since he, Toph, and Katara arrived at the Northern Air Temple. He's been like that throughout most of their group discussions of the day of Sozin's comet; whether that's due to nerves or fading resolve, Aang's not sure.

They watch Sokka draw an increasingly frazzled map full of dots and lines delineating where everyone will assemble and deploy on the fated day. "Zuko, you strike for the head; we'll be there for support, and after all is said and done, it's time to take out the airship fleet and rendezvous with everyone at the main action: Ba Sing Se. That leaves only two things unaccounted for: Princess Azula and the comet."

"Pah. As far as I'm concerned, that princess doesn't hold a candle to Zuko. Why should we worry about her?" Toph demands. She's clearly miffed upon finding out that Azula was worth just as much as her bounty, never mind the fact that it's already quite a feat to be considered worth the same amount as a princess.

"She's an unknown variable; we don't know where she is or what she plans to do." Aang saves Sokka the explanation.

"How about the comet, then? We know for sure where it's gonna be and what it plans on doing: converting the world into a waking nightmare," Toph says, ever the blunt one.

"I'm glad you asked." Sokka devolves into a long discussion weighing the pros and cons of freezing the comet, putting it out using some combination of firebending and earthbending, pulling it into the ocean to douse it, politely asking it to maybe go away and come back in a few millennia, etc.

"What do you think, Zuko?"

Zuko looks surprised to be addressed, lost in thought, in that waking nightmare. As subtly as he can, Aang slips one hand into Zuko's behind their backs, knowing how one touch can bolster him enough to regain his composure. He doesn't look much reassured, but he musters the will to speak.

"I don't know how well any of those ideas will work, considering that I still can't control the Avatar state. I locked my seventh chakra, which prevents me from accessing the cosmic energy of the universe."

"Yeah, all I heard was blah, blah, blah, something spiritual mumbo jumbo something." Toph waves a dismissive hand. "Can't you unlock it somehow?"

Zuko clears his throat. "Well…"

"We're working on it," Aang promises, nudging Zuko's hand gently with one finger, understanding how reluctant he is to disclose the nature of his difficulty. No one appears very confident about this statement, though, and an awkward silence ensues, broken by Katara.

"Well, I guess you could say this really throws a wrench in our plans." She brandishes the hefty wrench she's currently holding for Teo. "Yeah? Yeah, maybe?" she tries hopefully, to no avail; the room is full of stony, humorless faces.

"Maybe leave the jokes to your brother," Toph suggests.

"What—his jokes mainly concern meat and boomerangs, that's not even funny!" she counters, enraged at this reception.

This time everyone does laugh, a strained kind of humor that falls through easily, but fortunately, the Mechanist chooses that moment to poke his head in with a distraction.

"It would appear we have a visitor."

"Who is it?" Teo asks.

"Princess Azula of the Fire Nation."

Oh.

ZUKO

It is a day for unexpected reunions. His sister stands in the foyer of the sanctuary, a column of sunlight from the ceiling pouring down on her, halo-like. They remain at an impasse, wondering how to resume the threads of their siblinghood, cut short so abruptly by Zuko's banishment. He turns defensive automatically, because after all, it's Azula.

"Why are you here?" he blurts out, unable to summon much more graciousness than that. He vaguely registers the rest of the group, Sokka, Katara, and Toph uneasy, while at Azula's right hand stands her partner-in-crime, Haru, the earthbender from Meikuang.

"Good afternoon to you too, brother. You're not glad to see me?"

"Never have been, so why would I be now?" It's not completely true, and they both know it.

"You should be." She advances, steps light and ginger against the stone tiles of the sanctuary. "You're stuck on a strategy for the day Sozin's comet arrives. You can't defeat our father while ignoring the comet's advantage. You're stymied. You feel like giving up, don't you? I can help you there."

He frowns over her shoulder, but Sokka shakes his head no—haven't told her anything about our plans, I'm as stumped as you are. He's not surprised—Azula's always miles ahead of everyone else in any given room. "Why should I trust you?"

Another few steps bring her to stand an arm's length away, and behind him, Aang instinctively draws closer, seeking to protect. He blindly reaches a hand back, catching Aang's forearm and staying his urge.

"Because I know you, Zuko, longer and better than anyone else here." From within her sleeve, she withdraws an object: a pearl-handled dagger with an inscription on the blade. "Remember this?"

Never give up without a fight.

"What do you say to a little Agni Kai? For old times' sake? I've come all this way."

It's odd to admit, but she's not wrong. She does know him, down to his very core.

"On a couple of conditions, of course," she continues, running with his implicit acceptance. "No other elements; you have the advantage as the Avatar."

"No lightning," he counters.

"And no Avatar state. Just the two of us, like it was always meant to be."

"Fine."

"Uh, Zuko…" Aang begins.

"It's fine." He catches Aang's hand between his own, a quick squeeze to reassure him. "I'll be careful. I think it's for the best if we have a little sibling reunion."

ZZZ

They elect not to have the Agni Kai in the main sanctuary but rather in the open air, where any flames will billow into nothingness without damaging any structures. The temple's observatory, a bare open plateau at the pinnacle of the mountain, serves their purposes well.

"You're sure about this, Zuzu?" Azula calls as she settles into position at the opposite end of the playing field. "You're not about to lose your nerve and start begging for mercy?"

"Shut up, Azula."

Strangely, he feels none of the tremulous qualms he had before the Agni Kai with his father. What suffuses him now is simply a feeling of acceptance. As if it always had to come to this, and now he's ready. He lowers himself to his starting stance, and she knows that he is serious.

Breathe in and out, and breathe the fire into being.

AZULA

He truly has come into his own as the Avatar, she thinks approvingly as she ducks before the unprecedented strength of his fire wall, the blue shield of her flame protecting her from engulfment. And yet he's had no further training since he left home, unless she's mistaken. So this is the true extent of his innate talent, refined and trained by his teachers and free of the constraints of their father's expectations. It's like meeting a new brother.

She stays close to the ground—it's easier to be a target in the air, at eye-level. With some quick maneuvers, she leverages her upper body on one arm, rearing up with both feet, belting out a blast that stays his approach. Blue fire curls around warm orange flame, their embrace fleeting, their trajectories doomed to diverge once more.

But who is to say Zuko isn't meeting a new sister as well? She, too, has left their father behind, a cruel, deranged tyrant now dead to both of them. They have both rewritten themselves into what they are today. It is only now that she realizes: weakness does not constitute the gentle compassion she used to scorn Zuko for. Strength is not defined by her own self-serving brilliance and conniving.

Our strength lies in our capacity to choose our own way independent of what others say.

She rarely feels such unsullied joy and pure enthusiasm for the act of living, but here it is now in light of her revelation. Between the two of them, the world is theirs. Zuko just doesn't know it yet.

She darts towards him, fire beneath her feet gliding her into a smooth trajectory, and he nearly retreats as she makes right for his face, a fiery fist aiming straight at the scar from months past. Now, now, Zuzu, you were doing so well.

He rallies, deflects her attack, wrists entwined for the briefest moment as their flame streaks heavenward, united. Hand-to-hand now, and who knew—she certainly didn't until this moment—that this is what they've been hurtling towards, for so many months, years? Back and forth, they exchange blows: blunt fist meeting open palm, springing back unharmed; a knifelike jab of sharp fingers, and she turns a tight cartwheel to the side to avoid it (thank you, Ty Lee), parrying with her free hand while still upside down—he just barely evades it. Their pace is faster than any training session she's had between their father, Uncle, and Commander Zhao, exhilarating, enlivening. They come together, separate to three paces' distance again, ever circling, ever intersecting across the field, and Azula pushes forward relentlessly, eager to see what will happen next.

She notes the moment his hind foot steps onto empty air and his eyes widen briefly. Not out of fear—she knows how he wears that look—but out of fleeting irritation that she would play such a dirty trick on him.

Make your surroundings work for you. She'd only heard that pompous refrain about a hundred times a day, ever since he returned from gallivanting out among the rivers and lakes with Lu Ten, having learned from some kind of deserter of a sword master. It's payback time, Zuzu.

He falls, pelting her with futile fire blasts for as long as she remains in sight, but she's not worried. He won't fall for long, not after what she's seen of him.

HARU

They watch from afar through the window of the temple sanctuary, none of them wanting to get too close to the arson-happy siblings' catfight. That kind of ends badly when Azula goes so far as to drive her brother off the edge of a cliff.

He glances at the rest of Team Avatar; Aang, Sokka, and Katara look thrilled. "I don't know about you all, but I think Zuko just went over the cliff and is possibly falling to his death right now."

He tries hard not to make it sound like a question, yet no one moves in reaction to his dire pronouncement. He'd thought that the 'Maybe we should do something about that?' was implicitly understood. "Uh…"

"Look!" Katara points, cutting him off. Zuko's somehow managed to catapult himself back onto the cliff with renewed energy, steady streams of fire from his feet buoying him and keeping him from his early demise.

"Eh, I wouldn't worry," Toph says nonchalantly. "I've pushed him off a cliff before. He survived, and that was before he was half as strong as he is now."

Azula seems to take Zuko's redoubled efforts to mean that the whole sky is a free-for-all now, and they both take to the air. The many tiers of the observatory form a terrace at the peak of the mountain, and they bounce from level to level, each confident in their ability to simultaneously throw flame at each other and jettison themselves around with nothing but fiery hot gas to support them. This looks distinctly life-threatening.

"Uh, should we… stop them?" Haru tries again.

Sokka laughs, still riveted on the fight. "You don't have any siblings, do you? Fighting is all part of the healing process." Katara nods fervently beside him.

"Besides, the real question is: can we stop them?" Toph adds.

Haru considers. "Well, technically yes, but at significant cost. Maybe just let them fight it out, get it out of their systems," he concedes.

"They're not fighting," Aang says with the wonder of someone who has just made a thrilling discovery, and Sokka, Katara, and Haru finally tear their eyes away from the sky arena, staring at him as if he's grown an extra nose and lost his brain to boot. "They're… playing."

"Well what do you know," Sokka says thoughtfully. "You're right, they are."

So they are. On the distant peak, Azula sends a massive blast that tapers to a point just as Zuko propels himself off the side of the mountain, the flames licking his feet but not quite touching. In recompense, he twists in midair, drawing a fiery ring between his outstretched arms seconds before catching himself on a ledge. Without a moment's hesitation, Azula throws herself right through it, blue fire dissipating the surrounding ring as she gyrates, a perfectly streamlined arrow headed straight at Zuko.

She lands, he reacts, she dances back, he advances. Every move of theirs is a harmonious conjunction, more duet than death wish, more frolicking than fraught conflict. Every flame just barely catches the departing trails of its target, easily parried, more for show than anything. They are playing, just like siblings do and should. Who would have thought?

ZUKO

There is no consensus as to when they should stop. Death or defeat is the normal rule for Agni Kai, but there seems to be no chance of that, as evenly matched as they are. Finally, they land on the main plateau of the temple observatory, far enough apart to take a deep breath and disengage. He holds up a hand, and they come to a standstill. They're breathing hard, both of them, but it's with the exertion of elation, not feral fear and the iron bloody taste of being hunted. It's a pleasing kind of exhaustion, one that he could use more often.

At last, he has a moment to look at Azula, not having had the time to properly regard her before, between the initial shock of seeing her again and the invitation to an Agni Kai. She's not the Azula he remembers, at least on the outside. Her ensemble is well-worn but neatly kept, the body dark green, almost black, with a stiff high collar and drab sleeves that are nowhere near as voluminous as the royal robes she favored at home. As a whole, utilitarian and far more worldly than the imperial princess she used to embody, save for one thing: a silver pin set amid wound loops of hair, a little in disarray after the Agni Kai. There is a shockingly blue shade of peonies adorning its length. He doesn't remember that being in her usual repertoire for formal occasions.

"You look… different."

She snorts. "Eloquent as always, Zuzu."

He matches the face before him to the last memory he has of her, gloating over his defeat in the Agni Kai, her smug, confident expression full of spurious pity swimming before his eyes even as he still bore the fresh wound bestowed by their father. There is none of that now.

Her features are sharper, the drawn hollows of her bones under skin loosened and less pallid telling of weight lost too fast, pain too viciously suppressed, eyes sunken but no less bright, lips dry, a tautness in the muscles of her throat and jaw that speaks to tears choked back, of months spent living in fear and tension, dread at the wrath of their father. That is Azula now, and her face is not so unfamiliar. He sees in it his own.

ZZZ

"My question still stands: why are you here?" Zuko resumes their conversation from earlier. "Clearly the Fire Lord didn't send you if he's actively advertising for your capture."

They're gathered together once more, Team Avatar, Azula, and Haru, in one of the vestibules branching off the main foyer of the temple sanctuary. It's a tiny room for them to be cramped in a circle, but Zuko keeps in mind the fact that the rest of the Northern Air Temple's inhabitants might not take so kindly to a stranger frequenting their home, at least not until they've identified her intentions.

"And my answer still stands: I want to help you. After you were banished, Father concentrated his efforts into mistaking me for the Avatar and forcing me to learn earthbending. A complete and utter farce, if I ever saw one."

"That's where I come in," Haru adds, seemingly relieved at the excuse to explain his presence. "I got landed with trying to teach a non-earthbender earthbending, and somewhere along the way, I got roped into running away with Azula to find you."

"A handy companion," Azula says, flippant and casual, but this is high praise from his sister. Either she's changed so much in her evaluation of others' merits (perhaps she's channeling Ty Lee?), or he's really something.

"After you used the Avatar state to liberate Haru's village, Father realized he was wrong, that you were the Avatar, not me. It's ironic how in the span of a single night, you went from being reviled outcast to favorite child, without even being there to witness it."

"Hmph." Sokka seems less than swayed. "So you're saying that you just switched sides because daddy doesn't love you anymore?"

Trust Sokka to verbalize the most unsavory truths in front of everyone. Azula shrugs. "Maybe so. Originally, all I wanted was to help you destroy him, and that's easy. On the day of Sozin's comet, ambush him at the airship base on the west coast. Use the Avatar state to wipe him out.

"But I know you, Zuko, and I know you won't stop at that. Saving the world is your priority, and there won't be much left of it to save if you don't stop our great-grandfather's celestial namesake from turning it into a living hellscape. You can't do that without me." "So what's your miraculous solution?" Sokka demands. "Go on, don't be shy about sharing. We're dying to know."

"I'd prefer to discuss it with Zuko alone."

He glances around the circle of familiar faces, and she follows his gaze, noting their mistrust. He meets Aang's eyes and nods. Aang gets to his feet, unsure but willing to follow Zuko's lead. "We'll take our leave then."

"We will?" Sokka sounds just the slightest bit challenging and less than inclined to leave Zuko in the hands of his sister, a threat yet to be fully assessed.

"We're dealing with my father, which makes it family business," Zuko says lightly, taking care to inject his words with enough confidence to ease his nerves. It's true, though; there are things about his family's ashes that don't need to be flung in everyone's faces. Azula has her reasons for wanting to speak with him alone.

Azula turns to Haru. "Can I trust you to mind these buffoons while I'm occupied? I really can't use any frivolous interruptions."

"You can trust me with anything you need," he reassures her, his words encompassing far more than their present situation.

She smiles at him, minute but brilliant like the sun's reflection on a distant lake shore, Zuko blinks a few times in quick succession, making sure he's seen and heard rightly. Wow, okay then.

AZULA

"Why not just kill the Fire Lord and assume the throne for yourself?" Zuko asks after the rest of the group leaves. "Then you could have commanded the army to victory against me and the Earth Kingdom, and it wouldn't matter if you weren't the Avatar or not."

She gapes at him. Has he become that bloodthirsty in the time that they haven't seen each other?

He shrugs. "I'm trying to appreciate the options that you had, and it's something I think you would have thought of, if not outright planned."

No, he's not that bloodthirsty; he just thinks she was. "To be fair, it did cross my mind, but it wouldn't have worked. After I was revealed not to be the Avatar, who would still support me? Commander Zhao? Uncle Iroh? Everyone thought I was an impostor who couldn't be trusted with anything. I became the new Zuko, slaving away for our father's approval, trying to regain his trust so that he'd let me leave in search of you. Everything changed after you left. You have no idea."

He raises an eyebrow—enlighten me.

She sits down on the steps of the raised stage area at the fore of the hall, presumably where the monks of old gave rousing lectures on Air Nomad dogmata. Zuko places a small teapot to boil over a burning brazier set on a pedestal next to her. The mumbling bubble of hot water soothes the ache in her voice as she begins to impart to him the tale of long months spent in confinement and then in bruising liberation, seeking yet not finding him.

"You know, I found Mom's encyclopedia of herbal poisons in the old greenhouse," she tells him conversationally just as he's pouring the tea into cups. He yelps in shock and spills some tea, pale skin turning angry red under its burn.

"Poison? But why would she…?"

"I've always thought Grandfather Azulon's death was suspiciously abrupt," she hints. "Too convenient. But luckily for me, I took this chance to fake Haru's death and get him out of the Fire Nation."

She tells him about how they traveled to the Southern Air Temple, then the Eastern Air Temple, meeting Jinora along the way. Zuko isn't surprised to hear of her death.

"When I met her, she already knew she didn't have long. Her life wasn't easy, grieving for her husband and her people while raising her son alone in an unfamiliar place."

"It makes you wonder what it must be like to grow up in a functional, whole family," Azula muses. "What a luxury, to have both parents present and attentive to your needs, loving you unconditionally and not for your achievements."

She doesn't hold back, the bitterness spilling from her voice like a poisoned stream, and Zuko takes an uncomfortable sip of his tea, stalling.

"I'm sorry, Azula," he begins, unable to keep on nursing his tea, cowed by the awkward silence. "I—"

She holds up a hand. "Don't. Don't cheapen our mutual understanding by offering meaningless apologies. None of our childhood was your fault, and it would be expressly manipulative of me to try and shift the blame onto you."

He watches as she lifts her teacup to her lips, maintaining soft, unlabored eye contact over the rim of the cup. There's something about tea that makes the scant honesty in her heart float to the surface and enumerate things as they truly are.

"Likewise," he finally says. "I don't blame you for the Agni Kai, nor our father's favoritism, nor any of the things that soured our relationship. It was…"

"A product of the chaotic world we live in," she finishes for him. "The world we're trying to end."

The teapot beside him bubbles over, water boiling unchecked and gushing onto the red-hot coals of the brazier, steam hissing and sparks popping, a brazen mess. "I don't know if it can truly be ended. Tamed, perhaps," Zuko concedes. "As to how you plan to do that… I'm listening."

She watches as he lifts the pot and modulates the flame down into mild embers, no longer rife with flame. "Just like that: pull the firewood out from under the pot."

ZUKO

He listens to her scheme with growing incredulity. "So what you're saying is, you want me to persuade the sun spirit to withhold the sun's power for however long it takes to defeat the Fire Nation's forces?"

"Precisely. The comet only magnifies our capabilities as firebenders. The sun itself is what allows us to bend at all. Without its power, the invading armies should be easy to crush."

"I wouldn't say easy," he hedges. "And besides, spirits don't exactly appreciate it when humans mess with them." He thinks of Senlin, of Yue, of the Painted Lady. "The sun spirit might think I'm trying to manipulate it."

"You haven't tried." Azula crosses her arms, glaring at him. "In any case, I think it just might have a stake in preserving the balance of the universe. Surely it won't hurt to ask? You're the Great Bridge; if it listens to anyone, it'll be you."

She has a point, he admits to himself grudgingly. "Okay," he agrees. "I'll see what I can do."

She tilts her chin at him expectantly.

"Right now?"

"Of course right now," she snaps. "What, were you going to wait until the day of the comet and risk failing to secure the sun spirit's cooperation? Talk to it now and get it to sign its name on the spirit world equivalent of a contract. We need to be sure of our victory."

"Ugh, fine." It occurs to him that he doesn't even know the name of the spirit in question. That will make a great first impression: barge in and impose on the sun spirit's duties without knowing how to properly address it. "Sit tight, this might take a while. I don't even know where to find the sun spirit."

He closes his eyes and slots his knuckles together in meditation, concentrating hard, praying that this will work.

HARU

He spends the next few hours wandering the premises with Zuko's friends, an unlikely group, but he finds them amiable enough. Through them, he has a fascinating window into Azula's brother, the Avatar, so unlike her in his capacity to gather allies and sincerely gain their trust and support. Azula's made do with Haru, but if they are to make a difference in this war, they will have to team up.

He gives Katara the water from Wan Shi Tong's library. "It's spirit water, so it's supposed to have super magic healing powers. I imagine you run into a lot of life-and-death situations with the Avatar around, so you'll probably have more use for it."

"Thank you." Katara dangles the pendant before her eyes. "But are you sure it's actually spirit water? It looks just like normal water."

He mock-gasps in false betrayal. "Are you accusing me of being a charlatan? Of course it's real! An actual spirit fox brought me to an underground fountain in a library run by a giant talking owl in the middle of the desert, where I bottled it myself."

He stops short, realizing that that doesn't make him sound any more credible. "Yeah, you'll just have to take my word on it."

"Uh-huh. Maybe I will if you explain how you managed to get to the middle of the desert. Surely you didn't walk all the way there?"

"Of course not. It was thanks to this." Everyone watches in anticipation as he dramatically pulls out a jar of…

"Sand?" Toph says, the ultimate skeptic. "What, did you swim through it?"

"Oh, haven't you heard of sandbending?"

The greatest earthbender in the world clearly has not—Haru disapproves. "Sand is a part of earth, and a pretty key part in getting me and Azula out of the desert. It's a shame, I wish I could show you the sandsailer that we used to escape from that hellish place." He twirls a spiral of sand between his fingers, lifting it out of the jar and guiding it in lazy billows like the vast, mutable dunes of the Si Wong Desert.

"A sandsailer…" Teo ponders the idea as he and Aang fiddle with the canvas frame of some puzzling contraption. "How does it work?"

Turns out Teo and his dad are genius inventors, a useful advantage for the Avatar yet again, Haru muses, struck by how miraculously supporters flock to Zuko's side wherever he goes, including Azula herself. Still, he doesn't feel that same pull. Maybe it's because he knows Azula better, has been by her side through thick and thin, but he finds her by far more compelling, more of a figure to follow into the unknown. Foolishly, he hopes the day when he can no longer do so is still far in the distance.

For now, he watches Teo rig up a mini sandsailer, large enough to carry a hog-chicken or a bat-goose perhaps, sustained only by the handful of sand Haru had brought with him. It's the work of just a few minutes, but Teo proudly shows it off to an unimpressed Toph.

"See? I told you I could do it," he crows as Haru manipulates the sandsailer in a tight circle around the periphery of the room. "It's pretty useful, having such a malleable form of earth. Unlike coal, it's light and easy to store in different containers—everything you'd need for versatile transportation. It's almost like flying, like we do with our gliders, but over land."

"Eh, I'll stay on the ground, thanks," Toph retorts. "Flying with Appa for the past few weeks hasn't improved my taste for the air."

Haru frowns, intrigued. "What's that you said about flying?"

"Oh, haven't you heard of gliding?" Toph asks archly, peeved at being shown up with regards to sandbending.

If we end up teaming up with the Avatar and friends, it's going to be a trying alliance. He envisions running damage control between Toph and Azula and shudders.

ZUKO

Can't imagine why anyone would want to visit the spirit world. He opens his eyes to a grey wasteland dotted with cracked brambles of trees and mile upon mile of untrodden, fallow fields. Am I in the right place? Maybe I travelled to an alternate universe where everything's dead?

Something here is not dead, he realizes as he hears a noise behind him, a shrill whining like a helpless sparrow chick fallen out of its nest. It sends chills down his spine as he turns around, completely alone, only to see a massive web strung between two trees. At its center struggles a spider-fly as large as his head, further ensnaring itself as it thrashes. He instinctively recoils, then pauses. It's not the spider-fly's fault that its gossamer wings make it prone to trapping itself in a web of its own making, doing more harm than good. Maybe he can help.

"Go away, human!" the shrill voice exclaims as he approaches. "You're not wanted here!" Most of the eight bright black eyes splayed across its head roll to stare fathomlessly at him, while a couple still swivel out of control.

"I won't hurt you." Zuko raises his hands slowly so that it can see he has no ill intent. "I want to help. Will you let me?"

The web glows a faintly noxious purple, a light mist surrounding it, and the spider-fly hisses at his proximity, adding to the spookiness. "No humans. No humans! This is the spirit world!"

Its whiny, minuscule voice doesn't exactly command obedience, and Zuko strays closer, trying to not startle it. "I won't hurt you," he reassures, reaching for the web.

Instantly, it wraps silken tendrils around his wrist, holding him captive just like the poor spider-fly, and he gasps, trying to withdraw his hand, wondering if this was no more than a ploy to capture him for its own appetite.

Stay calm, he thinks, the rational voice in his head sounding familiarly like Aang's. Stay calm, you've got this in hand. You can make things right.

Find yourself, and you will find the solution—Avatar Tenzin's words to him as he sought a way to counter the tree spirit Senlin on its quest to destroy a lonely mining village. It seems like a lifetime ago, but Zuko knows what to do now. With deep, steady breaths, he slows his racing heart and flexes his trapped hands to the limits restricted by the thick silken strings, their tendrils intent on encroaching on the rest of his arm. He focuses his thoughts into a bright, effusive plane full of all things good, willing them into being and reality, both for him and for the unfortunate spider-fly.

I've been there before, stuck in a trap of my own creation. He thinks of the falsehood that had initially overlain his relationship with Aang, his withholding his true identity until things had come to a head. I set myself up for our conflict. I only managed to fix things when I allowed myself to be vulnerable.

He grips the steely silk strings of the web tightly in his fist, and slowly, the miasmic aura around it recedes, the strands glowing bright and hot in a fleeting instance before releasing him and loosening from around the spider-fly's entangled wings. It wriggles free of the trap and beats its wings into flight, hovering uncertainly around his head.

"Why did you help me?" it asks, genuinely confused.

"That is the nature of the universe. Help others and you help yourself."

"Then you do understand." Eight eyes regard him with an almost human interest, less otherworldly than he would expect of a spider-fly spirit. "That is more than most humans and some spirits do."

"What do you mean?"

The spirit doesn't reply, instead resettling itself into its web, which this time does not close around it and suffocate its own host. Instead, under its careful attentions, the material of the web gradually emits a delicate glow, its golden strings warm, not piercing, and at each interconnection of the strings, the fell mist surrounding them condenses into a jewel-like vertex, clear and glittering. A web of diamonds, enchanting to behold, and inexplicably, Zuko thinks that perhaps this is the answer that he seeks.

"What do you see?" it asks. "Come closer."

He does, and it is as if the web expands to comprise the entire cosmos, the world at his fingertips. Every jewel, bright and shining, contains the perfect reflection of every other jewel in the web, an infinite tapestry of mirrors reflected in mirrors reflected in mirrors, containing the universe. Everything is interconnected. No image changes in one reflection without changing in all reflections.

"What do you see?"

"Everything."

The world, both human and spirit, is contained herein, but he remembers that he came here on a mission, and he wrenches himself away from the overwhelming sight, this limitless perception of all. He has a name, now, and a place to go.

"I have to go now."

"You have more people to help," it says wisely. "Go in peace."

He turns to go, then looks back. At this distance, several paces away, the web once again seems forbidding and grim, swirls of mist obscuring the web. Beyond it, the land plunges into a steep gorge from which a thick, heavy fog emanates, cloying his lungs and striking him with fear.

"What is that place?" He should know what it is; he saw it in the web, yet something keeps him from saying it.

"It is the Fog of Lost Souls," the spider-fly says without passion, as if it is merely a neutral gatekeeper for a place with a name like that. "It is an eternal prison. Those trapped in it relive their worst memories day after day. The only way to escape is the same way you enter: through the mind."

Zuko nods. This world is unlike the physical: here, the mind and the body are one and the same. The errant fancies of the mind become solid and permanent in the real world. Emotions become reality, and if those lost in the fog remain spellbound by darkest emotions for long enough, they may never escape. He shudders, turning his back on the Fog of Lost Souls, hoping that he will never come here again.

ZZZ

The spirit world is eerie and foreign, but with the knowledge of the jeweled net, he finds his way over terrain both welcoming and wary, foggy meadows and brazen, sun-drenched, desert-like stretches, no two places exactly alike. Time is immaterial here, and he does not know how long it takes before the shadow of Mount Hai-Riyo looms on the horizon. He knows, however, who awaits him at its peak. Its craggy, steep paths give way to a smooth plateau at the top. There sprawls a giant nest, in reality not unlike an eagle's roost. In its center rests the sun spirit, a golden plumed dragon-bird whose neck stretches three men's height above the ground. Its scarlet eyes are cold and depthless as they settle on him.

He bows awkwardly, unsure of the etiquette here. Perhaps he should afford the spirit the courtesy of a foreign dignitary? That would include listing out all his titles, at least the ones Zuko's aware of. He's not too familiar with spirit hierarchy.

"Greetings, Jinwu, Lord of Mount Hai-Riyo, guardian spirit of the sun."

The sun spirit peers haughtily down at him. "And who might you be?"

"Uh… the Avatar."

"Hm! You again," Jinwu spits. It clacks its beak derisively, feathers fanning out in an alarming display behind its head. "The Avatar is not welcome here, not after what you've done."

Zuko takes a cautious step back, unnerved. "I'm sorry… what do you mean?"

Jinwu fixes a beady eye on him. "You are a fledgling, so I suppose it is not unusual that you have not spoken with your forebears. In one of your past lives, you were a great archer named Hou Yi. You shot down nine of my nestmates as they crossed the heavens, several thousand years ago, leaving only me to shine upon the earth."

"But…" The legend is familiar to Zuko; every child in the Fire Nation knows Hou Yi's story. He saved the world from a devastating drought caused by the ten suns frolicking through the sky at once, so it is told in myth. "I didn't know he was a real person, let alone the Avatar."

"Much of human history has been lost to the darkness of long years," Jinwu dismisses. "Your lives are short, your generations forget what once was, and the truth is colored by those who prevail, whether righteous or evil. Thus, you never learn from your mistakes, and you come to me, daring to ask me for a favor without knowing of our feud."

"How did you know I came to ask a favor?"

"What else do humans do but desire what is not theirs? To be human is to want. To transcend humanity is to let go."

Be that as it may… he has to try. "How do you know that what I want benefits myself alone and not the spirits as well?" Zuko challenges.

Jinwu towers over Zuko, the radiance of its golden wings blocking out the sky. "Surprise me then, human."

He sighs, not knowing how to phrase this. The spider-fly spirit was so much more accepting.

"You sail over the sky and the world below it every day. You know of the chaos and destruction wrought by the Fire Nation. And as the sun spirit, you know that a comet is coming, a celestial being that will waft the power of all firebenders into a swollen tide that cannot be faced by any force. The world will crumble at the hands of Fire Lord Ozai, and there will be nothing left to grow in the ashes. It will be just like when the ten suns tumbled through the sky unchecked, except that this time, I need your help to upend the heavens and the earth and stop this disaster from happening."

"If your people take over the world, it won't be long before they wipe themselves out too," Jinwu says viciously, almost wishful. "The Fire Lord will rule alone over a barren world, and we as spirits will reclaim the earth as we have not had the opportunity for thousands of years. I, for one, cannot see any cons to this situation. As long as we spirits do not meddle in human affairs, the world will change in our favor."

"Spirits will be hurt too if things don't change for the better!" Zuko remembers Senlin, the Painted Lady, how they lived harmoniously in the human world after all. "Spirits still live in the physical world even now; I've met them. They can't withstand this pain and destruction. You can't sacrifice them just to watch everything burn.

Zuko paces before Jinwu's nest, frustrated, outwitted by the dragon-bird's recalcitrance. "Please, Jinwu. All you would have to do is cease your daily flight for a set amount of time when the comet arrives, to darken the sun so that no firebenders can control their element. That's it; you can leave the rest to me. Can't you help?"

Jinwu rises, stalking towards Zuko, and he notes that the sun spirit has three legs, its claws cruelly hooked and sharp. "By no means will I help an arrogant, naïve young Avatar doesn't know what he is asking for. Spirits do not help humans, end of story. You should go back to your human world and make do with what you have, Avatar."

I have, he thinks, dismayed, then a thousandfold displeased and unimpressed. He thinks of how much he and Azula have sacrificed to get this far: escaped their father and their country, faced hardship and harrowing near-death encounters, crossed a scalding desert, crossed the frigid seas, struggled and fought and fell down and learned from their mistakes to rise again. So have their friends, so have Aang, Toph, Katara, Sokka, Haru, every single person they've recruited in support of harmony and peace, in the face of imminent disaster and no guarantee for success. They have given everything they could and made do with everything they have, and Jinwu has decided to essentially make that struggle worthless.

He seethes, face hidden from the sun spirit, and the view from the peak of Mount Hai-Riyo swims before his eyes, resolving itself into a new plan.

The spider-fly he encountered struggling in its own trap was hostile towards him at first, until he sent kindly thoughts and wishes to it through its web. Its darkness was dispelled and replaced by good, and Zuko wonders if he cannot likewise overcome Jinwu's stubbornness. The only way to extinguish the sun on the day of Sozin's comet is to force Jinwu to deviate from its usual path through the sky, for the sun to wink out of existence for as long as it is necessary to secure the victory. All he has to do is restrain Jinwu by overwhelming it with his thoughts and emotions. It will be his own battle, in a sense.

A peal of thunder cracks nearby, and he jumps, startled out of his reverie. He looks up; the sky has turned dark with ominous storm clouds. Lightning flashes, and he stumbles backwards as Jinwu approaches, its golden coat now tinged with dark hues, a menacing glow surrounding it like a halo. It is monstrous and terrible, and Jinwu spreads its wings, their span overshadowing Zuko, and he realizes…

Your emotions become your reality. His brooding thoughts about forcing Jinwu to comply turned the spirit world dark and brewed this spell for disaster.

"How dare you? You, a lowly human, propose to turn on the great sun spirit and compel me to your service?" Jinwu hisses, voice now magnified into a choir of cacophonous, demonic tones, as vast as the universe and equally as horrifying in its emptiness. "How dare you."

Jinwu almost fills the entire horizon now with its wingspan, Zuko's panicked thoughts fueling its might, and he lashes out with one arm, thinking to fend off the demonic bird, only to find that his bending is useless here. He's alone, trapped in a web of his own making, like the spider-fly, like the people in the Fog of Lost Souls. Lost forever, never to be found again.

"You think you can control me? Spare the thought, human—I will show you what it's like to be controlled."

Jinwu rears up to its full height, wings beating mightily, three legs drawn in close against its body, and Zuko screams, a terrible sound indistinguishable from the ghastly screech of the dragon-bird, for suddenly, inconceivably, they are one and the same.

AZULA

She resigns herself to a long wait as Zuko's silent form continues to remain unmoving. Either he's lost, or he's run into a particularly long-winded spirit. She quashes down an impatient sigh and focuses on Zuko.

He's stronger now, wiser now. Everything about his demeanor, from the way he addresses his companions evenly as the indisputable leader, to the ease with which he was willing to accept Azula's audience, suggests how he has grown. He has learned patience and diplomacy, working with oppressed villages that probably weren't keen on accepting a banished Avatar as a savior. He reminds Azula a little of their cousin. As much as she never admitted it while he was alive, Lu Ten had proven his worth on the battlefield, the merit of his strategy and command not coming second to his alleged devotion and kindness toward his men.

We make ourselves upon models of mightier figures, she laments. He chose Lu Ten and look who I chose.

If they win, and that is still a question that dangles by a thread, the next question will be: who will succeed Fire Lord Ozai?

She neglects to refine an answer in the moment, losing herself in examination of the scar bestowed by their father. It is the first time she has seen it in person, a terrible reminder of their father's bestiality. She reminisces on that day when the Fire Lord summoned her, and how she would have a matching scar if his hand had been a little less steady.

Their lives have been the stuff of nightmares, yet together they have finally escaped.

She notes a faint furrow cross his brow, a grimace encompassing his face as if he's in pain. "Zuko?"

A fine tremor takes ahold of his body, a horrified gasp though his eyes remain closed. His back arches, fists clenched in a paroxysm of terror.

"Zuko!"

Something's not right. Suddenly, his eyes snap open, and they are vermilion, bloody, terrifying, his entire body suffused with a golden glow that shines bright and brighter, like the halo of an avenging demon. Backlit by its glow, he seems monstrous and awful, and as he towers over her in the darkened hall, her eyes begin to betray her.

For it is her father who stands before her, Fire Lord Ozai with blood in his eyes and blood on his mind as he raises one hand, a condemning monolith here to sentence her once more for faults not her own—

"No," she chokes out, falling onto her hands and pushing herself away with frantic feet as he advances on her. "No… you can't… you can't, I won't let you hurt me again—"

Lightning wells up inside of her, and she must strike before he does. She gathers it up, separating the chi and letting it reunite as she points two fingers straight at his heart.

HARU

Aang beams as he lands on solid ground, the glider wheels touching down a little unevenly but still quite smooth. "You're a natural," he praises. "I remember it took me a couple years to get comfortable with my glider staff when I first started airbending." He spins his staff with two hands, nearly taking out Teo's eye with his whims. "My mother despaired that I would ever get off the ground by myself."

Haru accepts his praise graciously, an unpleasant reminder welling up in his throat as he registers Aang's words. "Actually… I met your mother a few months ago when we passed through Chin Village."

"You did?" He gapes, pleasantly surprised. "How is she?"

"Er…"

He decides to let Jinora speak for herself, revealing the letters she entrusted to him, one her own and one from Avatar Tenzin, all that is left now of their earthly lives.

"Uh, here. She left you these."

"Left…?" Aang takes the missives with some confusion and looks them over, the smile slowly fading from his lips as he reads.

"I'm sorry. If it's any comfort, she departed peacefully, and we laid her to rest as she requested, under the open sky, on a cliff facing southwest, at high tide with the salt spray strong in the air."

Haru knew this moment would come, but he still feels ill-equipped to deliver the news of Jinora's death and handle the aftermath of grief. He's spared any further awkwardness as a searing bright light precipitously fills the sky, emanating from the peak across the gorge where the main temple stands. His stomach drops. He knows that light, has seen it illuminate a dark sky just like this one, moments before annihilating dozens and clearing their path to freedom.

"Zuko," Aang breathes. In an instant, his glider staff snaps open and he takes flight towards the temple, leaving the rest of them behind.

Azula…

AANG

He bursts into the temple ahead of everyone else, snapping his glider shut and dropping it carelessly as the doors yield to him like air. A scream, a flash of light, the smoky smell like a forest fire after a lightning strike, and he searches for Zuko amid the chaos. His heart misses a beat.

Zuko lies there on the floor, unmoving, limbs askew as if thrown from a great height. Beside him, Azula kneels, hair in unraveled waves, breathing hard and staring at the body as if she can't believe what she sees.

What is there not to believe? Aang thinks, livid. She was the only one in here with Zuko, and after a flash of lightning, here she is alive and well while he… he…

"Azula!" he roars. "What have you done?!"

Her head snaps up, her gaze wild, lips stretched wide around heaving breaths, and she rears up on her haunches, hands at the ready to attack again—

Before she can, Aang seizes his chance, sensing the turbulent currents around her, and he searches deep into the bottom of her lungs, dragging the air out from their depths.

It is like the bellsong, he thinks madly as her hands fly to her throat. Pulling the currents and twisting every trail of blessed air just as he and Zuko did a few weeks ago, Azula's gasps and splutters like the music of tinkling bells. Around and around him he winds the volume of air that once occupied her lungs, the strands comprising her last breath, robbed from her as she stole Zuko's. It is justice.

She collapses to hands and knees, then slumps to lie on her side, face once red with exertion now blue without oxygen, unable to lift a finger to help herself, and still—still there is more air left for him to gather. He will not stop until she is completely empty.

"Azula!"

Haru is here, and before Aang can react, he lifts a massive block of stone under their feet. Aang loses his balance and his grip on Azula, and before he can regain his composure, another heavy mass slams into his gut, winding him. He struggles to raise his head, only to see Haru charging towards the head of the hall, lifting Azula into his arms, prepared to escape.

"No…" He can't let them get away. "No…"

Footsteps rush past him, the doors slam, and silence reigns once more.

He's barely aware of the others rushing into the room, focused only on Zuko's limp body in his arms, the fabric of his shirt over his heart burned away, a raw expanse of scalded skin there, a fatal wound.

"Aang! Zuko!" Katara hurries to his side. "Is he…?"

He cannot hear the air rise and fall under Zuko's chest, nor feel the pulse bounding in Zuko's neck. He shakes his head blankly, the movement empty like his soul. Nothing matters right now; he cannot muster the will to open his mind and think about anything.

"He took a glider and fled with her; it happened too fast," he hears Teo from the front of the hall. "I've sent our best airmen after them, but we had no warning. I can't say if we'll catch up to them tonight." It's not clear who he's talking to, but Aang doesn't care.

"Aang, let me try something?" Katara's gentle hands pry his away from Zuko's body.

"It's no use," he murmurs drunkenly. "Gone…"

"No," she says, firm and resolute. "I still have this." She holds up a glass pendant filled with water and uncaps it. "If this doesn't work, nothing else will."

She bends the water out into a disc, and its faint glow illuminates her hand as she presses it to Zuko's chest.

A long breathless moment of brilliant light, drawn faces weary and grievous, and then the chest beneath his hands expands, lips part under a tired inhale, and Zuko's eyes ease open ever so slightly. He lives.

He lives.

A/N: That's it for blood in the breeze, friends! The next book is the series finale, titled heaven need a sinner, and is now posted! Keep reading to find out what happens in the aftermath of the siblings' disastrous reunion. Side note: rating increase. There will be some explicit content in later chapters, so gird your loins I guess - I will try to set them off in standalone, skippable chapters.

Finally, thank you all so very very much for reading and interacting 3 I wouldn't still be writing this if not for you all. This plot bunny has been wildly out of control since the very beginning, and I am so thankful for everyone who's along for the ride :* Please continue to read/comment—it will really make my day if you tell me what you liked about it, no matter how small of a detail. If you ever include this series in a rec list or recommend it to your friends, please tell me so I can smother you in hugs and kisses (or virtual cookies if that's what you'd prefer :D) I love you all! Okay! Enough gushing :3

The writing notes are below, discussing the origins of Jinwu, the jeweled net, some of my favorite scenes, spirit world stuff, and more. archiveofourown dot org/works/7019827/chapters/45530299