Puppet Strings

Prologue

The rat squealed in pain as she plucked at the veins and muscles that lay beneath, forcing it to stand and dance at her command as she remained curled in the corner. Hair sagging into her eyes, she smiled- her teeth rotting.

The woman cried out for help, but no one heard her scream. To silence her throat, he reached out a hand and wriggled his fingers wickedly, increasing the devastating strength of his bend. It prevailed, and she went silent, her trachea collapsing under an unseen force. Advancing upon her, his grip increased on her heart, squeezing it until he felt the satisfying burst. Gurgling all at once, blood oozed out of her mouth as her eyes glazed over. Her body went completely limp, he felt her spirit leave her and he smirked- his malevolent, dark blue eyes sparkling with sadism.

The wolves whimpered in fear- he simply opened his eyes wider, feeling a strong flow of power electrify through his mind, he hadn't needed his arms or legs to do what he was so naturally great at. Their tails went between their legs, he saw the pain trickle into their faces, placid snarls desperately, dumbly calling for an end to the torment.

He felt his father's approving eyes on his back, but he also noted his little brother shaking his head in sadness. There was nothing that surged through his body- no satisfaction, no despair, and no regret. There was nothing while he watched the twitching paws of his puppets, and his eyes began to darken into ink, a shell of their former sparkling blue- he frowned deeply.

A Voice in the Night

Breathing slowly, she slept. Inhale, exhale, and so forth- the whispers of the wind and the window lost in the intoxication of slumber.

Deep chocolate hair smoothly coating a comfortable pillow as her tanned, leathery skin bristled and sank with the twitch of her placated brain; her eyelids hid the sparkle of her bright, blue eyes.

This euphoria of dreams was not to be continued.

The murmuring of the air soon turned to screams and shouts, wailing upon wailing of fear and dread. All of it sounding from her splitting lips.

It happened all too quickly.

She had just been laying and resting, an innocent lamb finally being dragged to slaughter as they crashed in through the open panes and crushed in through the ceiling. Not even a thought was given to Tenzin, Pema, or any of the children, only the reality of the masked intruders.

Their bright red and green eyes spoke of demonic influence, their uniforms so terrifyingly militaristic and threatening, cloaking them into shadow and mystery as they snatched onto her arms.

Breathing in and blowing out, her lids betrayed the intensity of her nightmare.

They shook and swam beneath the heavy lashes, her groans of helplessness silently whisked out from the deep caverns of her throat.

Hyperbolized in the dream, she was really wrenching her limbs out of enemy hands, desperately trying to avoid capture, or worse. Finally, the monsters struck out at her nerves, bruising and defiling her skin until she was just a broken shell.

Unsheathing brutish rope, they tied her up and pulled to excruciating lengths, her flesh being squeezed as her bones seemed to pop out of their comfortable sockets.

The reality of their hits began to sink in. No fire burned in her belly, no earth held her steady, and certainly no water eased her pain. Numbing apathy was all she felt, until a porcelain face emerged from the shadows of the destroyed room.

His hand extended grotesquely, the masked claw reaching out to rob her of dignity, of identity until she was just as faceless and demented as him. Before his icy fingers could freeze her sweating skin, she noticed the flicker of sadism glimmer in his ink-stained eyes.

Her own snapped open.

In a flash, she sat up and peered around frantically. Kicking the sheets, flailing her arms, his emotionless guise was all she could see, until his soulless eyes sank bank into normalcy.

The simple ornaments were still intact, a mild breeze rustled the plain curtains.

Extending and opening her hand she coerced a living flame into the palm, the current of electricity shifting through her magical muscles to produce a ball of ember. As she kept her eyes locked with the wad of fire, it began to sway.

It was then she realized how soaked she was.

The pools and streams of sweat dripped casually from her head and onto the little heartbeat still drumming on her fingers.

Relief flooded her veins, it shook her down to the core and back up again until it felt like she might vomit. To counter it, she shut her eyes firmly, stifling the gut wrenching feeling of fear and reprieve back down into the esophagus.

Finally, she closed the shaking fingers that carried small life, expunging it. It only proved to be a reminder.

Quelling her trembling, she wrapped her arms protectively around her, and peered up at a glorious full moon that hung directly in the middle of her window pane, hoping that the Spirits could hear her silent prayer for uneventful sleep.

Unfortunately, her nightmare had ruined any chance for a return to dozing, so she decided to get up and wipe the salty droplets off her goose-bumped body. Taking a glance at her covers, she grimaced when they were spoiled as well.

That's going to need a wash…she thought grumpily.

The day was getting off to a bad start.

To make matters worse was the stress of a certain ponytailed politician who was trying to coerce her into fighting that which haunted her most. Going to bed that night, she had already been thinking she had bit off more than she could chew coming to Republic City.

No fan base or cheers greeted her, only a whole set of problems that weren't going to be solved any time soon, but still gave her constant trouble, Tarrlok and Lin included.

It was certainly the last time she would ever go to bed with work on the mind.

Her feet padded softly against the thin, wood floors, making sure not to wake any of the others. Spirits knew she would never hear the end of it if Tenzin stumbled upon her in this weakened state of insomnia and perspiration.

So, she sauntered tiredly down the hallways, her bare feet shuffling against the eerily cold floor. The light of a bright, night sky seeped in through the cracks of glass, the chill of early hours lashed a new set of spine-shivering currents beneath her weary flesh.

The atmosphere surely wasn't helping anything.

Reaching a panel, she looked both ways, as if Equalists or the hyper children of her air bending tutor would catch her in the act, sounding some sort of alarm. Cautiously, after giving another hard stare left and right, she dug her nails into the edge and pulled.

It creaked and groaned, causing her to shut her eyes and grind her teeth in embarrassment and regret, until it finally hit the niche at the end, and she sprinted quickly in, puffing out her cheeks.

Safety was realized when not a sound responded to the perpetually loud opening of the old door, and she wriggled her toes in the fur carpet of the lavatory, heaving a sigh.

Already panting like Naga, she shut the thing closed, giving it no chance of humiliating her again, and turned to the pan of water. Snatching a towel, she wiped off her neck and face, her nose curling at the smell already, to which she let out an exasperated, teenage grunt of frustration.

Then, flinging the thing into the bowl, she rinsed it and began the process again. Slowly, her eyes traced from the splashing of her wringing hands to the mirror that hanged just above, hoping her appearance wasn't too crazed or disheveled.

A pair of ink-stained eyes bored into hers, a bleached mask with a red dot on the forehead replaced her reflection, snuffing it out.