Disclaimer: Avatar: The Last Airbender belongs to Bryke and Nickelodeon, not me.
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There's nothing to anything- it's all smoke.
One generation goes its way, the next one arrives, but nothing changes.
It's business as usual for old planet earth.
The sun comes up and the sun comes down, then does it again, and again-
The same old round.
The wind blows south, the wind blows north.
Around and around and around it blows,
Blowing this way, then that- the whirling, erratic wind.
All rivers flow into the sea,
But the sea never fills up.
The rivers keep flowing to the same old place,
And then start all over and do it again.
What was will be again,
What happened will happen again.
There's nothing new on this earth.
Year after year it's the same old thing.
Nobody remembers what happened yesterday
And the things that will happen tomorrow?
Nobody'll remember them either.
Don't count on being remembered.
--Ecclesiastes 1:2-11 (The Message)
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In a moment, it couldn't be taken back.
He was used to pain, but this different. This was a calm, terrible pain, arcing through his body, twisting his hands, blinding his eyes, burning his lungs. But even though he knew what was happening, he was peaceful.
And suddenly the pain was gone. There was nothing but a sudden quiet strength seeping through his body. He felt calm, completely calm, for the first time in a long time.
He did what he was meant to do. There was no purpose left. And with a soft breath, he slipped away.
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A laughing little girl brushed against her elbow, darting through the crowd. A little boy-so alike he had to have been her brother- chased after her. She took a step back and watched the children play. Their parents stood a little ways away, watching their children. The mother's eyes were soft, following her children as they shrieked and hopped around in their game. The sight of the little family was too much to bear. She stumbled away, farther into the crowd.
She was surrounded by people, yet she was completely alone. Around the sea of red and gold crashed around her. She was buried by them, lost in their unfamiliarity. Her heart throbbed as she stared into each face. In vain she checked each pair of eyes, searching for the lost- steel blue, foggy green, warm chocolate brown.
It didn't matter how much she searched. It didn't matter how much she wanted it. It didn't matter what she wished or what she hoped or what she needed.
They were gone. And she might never see them again.
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This room used to frighten him. Now it was his. He ran his hand along the intricately carved railings, idly digging his fingers in the grooves and ridges.
The cavernous hall still radiated with the old presence. There was history here, both his own and the ancestors who came before him. The idea of owning this place, of people hanging on his every word and whim, was overwhelming.
He stared up, deep into the soaring height of the high-beamed ceiling. There had never been a moment in his life that he truly believed this would be his. Now it was, and he didn't know what he was going to do.
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The wooden floorboards creaked and popped. Her hair caught on splinters. He grunted, his sweat dripping onto her cheek. She closed her eyes tightly.
Her body hit the floor over and over again. Her limp arms bent back over her head; her thin knuckles scraped against the wooden planks. Her neck snapped back as he jerked her up and slammed her down.
With a last vicious thrust he dropped her and pulled away. His footsteps echoed as he stumbled out into the hallway. Pain radiated through her body. The only sound was her ragged breathing; it rumbled and roared in her ears.
Seconds…minutes…hours…she had no concept of how much time had passed. She had no concept of time, of place, of feeling. Breathe in Breathe out. Stifle the pain. Don't think.
Sometimes footsteps echoed in the hall, behind the partially open door. No one came in. No one looked for her.
At long last she moved her stiff, unyielding fingers. She forced the movement to travel through her arms, her elbows, her shoulders. Gradually she shifted up to a sitting position. The throbbing pain overwhelmed her, making her head swim. She gripped the wall and dragged herself to her feet.
Each step sent a dizzying tight stab of pain through her. Her ripped clothes hung off her body in tatters, exposing her cold, bruised, bloodied skin. She didn't care. Clumps of hair torn free straggled over her shoulders and down her back. Her fingers trailed limply against the walls as she wandered through the dark.
All around her she heard shouting, laughing, talking, swearing. Bodies brushed against her, bumping and pulling. The footsteps blurred. She felt hot and cold all at once. She tripped over something. Something crashed against the wooden floor; vaguely she realized it was her own body. Her chest tightened. A harsh scraping sound broke from her throat. Her eyes burned. For a long time she lay there, heaving, crying without tears.
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Pain tore through his body. His breath broke from his mouth in a sharp bloody gasp. He thought he heard something as he fell- a child screaming, a girl shouting his name. But it dropped away as the wind rushed in his ears.
Breaking metal twisted and rasped in sickening crunches. Hot air blasted against his skin; his torn clothing left no protection. He hit the ground with a definite thud. His body fell into a crumpled heap, and the metal remains fell around him.
With a heavy grunt he rolled onto his side and tried to push himself up. The shattered bones in his arm ripped through his skin, snapping tendons and nerves like taut threads. He fell back hard, retching. The pain overwhelmed him; his body was cold and numb.
He stared up at the ashen sky, dizzy and unfocused. Something dark and sticky dripped down his chin. The metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. The congealing haze obscured his vision, and he surrendered to the darkness that swallowed him up fast.
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It wasn't fair. It had never been fair. She never got anything.
She had always loved him best. He thrived under her attention, under her approving smiles and gentle laughter. She was always touching him- holding his hand, smoothing his hair, kissing his cheek.
All she wanted was that kind of attention. Was that so wrong? Was it so wrong to lust after the life your sibling led?
Then again, he had always wanted what she had. But was it so much better to be recognized for what you could do than to be loved for who you are?
She dug her fingernails into her scalp, relishing in the delicious relief that the pain brought. The dark coolness of the room made her shiver. Her hair hung limply over her face. With a surrendering sigh she fell back and was enveloped by her bed, letting the blankets swallow her up the way everything else in her life had.
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He sat alone. The water lapped against the shore, intruding on his thoughts. Ten years ago he was content- a husband, a father, a proud chieftain in a long line of nobles. Now he was a widower, his children torn from him, his country left in shambles.
He picked up a rock and skimmed it along the surface of the water. It skidded across the placid lake before sinking leisurely. He picked up another one and threw it harder. Another one, then another. One by one he seized the rocks that piled along the shore, until water rose up in white foam, as if by destroying the peace he could create it elsewhere.
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She walked quietly through the gardens. Moonlight filtered through the clouds, sending pale shadows over the white lotuses. Her reflection crystallized in the smooth water of the pool. She sat down on a flat rock and curled her slender legs beneath her.
All day she ran up and down flights of stairs. She carried the jars and she rolled the bandages and she tended the wounds of those not long left for this world. Anguish permeated her mornings, death punctuated her evenings.
She folded her arms across her bent knee and stared past the abbey gardens at the flat expanse of rolling green hills. For the millionth time she thought of running away, of leaving behind the life she had been chained to. But she knew her obligations, and she remained where she was.
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Author's Notes:
This story has been a long time in the making. I started developing it about halfway through season three, when I was so sure that Aang was going to die. I was incredibly happy that he didn't, don't get me wrong, but I was still curious as to how the story would have turned out, had Aang sacrificed himself.
Originally I was going to wait until the story was finished to start posting, but I couldn't wait anymore. And I'm glad I didn't. I got a lot of really honest feedback, and people said that they thought the story had potential, but everything was so short it what is impossible to gauge the story. So after a lot of revisions, and a totally rewritten outline, I present my epic.
I hope you like it! Tell me what you think.