Chapter Text
Blossoming Romance
Akari never allowed me to dwell on my frustrations and fears. She kept me busy practicing firebending forms of increasing difficulty, even if I could not use them as intended against an opponent. We also had plenty of respites from training to relive our childhood days running rampant through the Fire Nation. This time, we spent less time exploring and more visiting Akari's assorted pupils spread amongst her people. The majority of my firebending lessons happened outside the palace training rooms rather than in them.
Part of her agenda to distract me from my perceived failings was inviting our friends to Capital City. Siniq and Tarkik were the first to arrive, and were quick to change to their lightest clothes. They fared much worse in the heat than Akari had in the cold, and so suffered Akari's relentless teasing.
I was overjoyed when Siniq and Tarkik said they had no set date to return home. They had been unable to visit Ba Sing Se, thus I only got to see them when Akari and I returned for the Spirit Lights Festival. I assumed they had stayed close to home to ensure Avatar Szeto's border around the spirit forest held. No, apparently it had been Akari's meddling that kept them away from Ba Sing Se. She had complained to them about Huizhong so much, they doubted her when she retracted her complaints and claimed Huizhong was redeemable.
Oh, I was so mad at her. Tarkik joined me in scolding Akari for judging Huizhong too swiftly, and then turning him against her before he met her. Siniq found the whole ordeal hilarious.
(I didn't realize it then, but Siniq got her revenge for Akari laughing at her weakness to the Fire Nation climate. Akari's unfounded jealousy and petty grudge against Huizhong were the perfect ammunition for Siniq to tease Akari just as much.)
Huizhong arrived not long after the twins. I was in one of the many beautiful courtyards of the palace with Siniq when a guard led Huizhong to us. Akari and Tarkik were nowhere to be seen (off working on one of Akari's many surprises, I discovered later) so I was the only witness to the beginning of Huizhong and Siniq.
I love telling this story. They will argue I embellish it too much and things did not happen in such a way, but they were too wrapped up in each other to see the whole picture.
Spring passes quickly in the Fire Nation, but it is all the more breathtaking for its brevity. It is particularly beautiful in the royal palace, where generations of gardeners have cultivated the flora for the royal family's pleasure.
Huizhong entered our courtyard framed by vibrant splashes of color. Her signature eye makeup matched the pink of the flower petals that floated down from the trees. The emerald of her eyes shone brighter than the green of spring reflected in the pond. She was always stunning, but just then she managed to steal the breath of spring itself.
And so she captured Siniq's heart with a beatific smile followed by the words, "Ah, you must be Siniq. Akari said you are the gorgeous, muscular one."
I had never seen Siniq blush before. She was the one that said smooth lines and brought women to a swooning mush with a crooked smile. Tarkik asserts half of Agna Qel'a can recall their first crush being on Siniq. No one had ever flipped the script on her before.
Graceful, confident Siniq tripped over her own feet in her haste to cross the courtyard and bow deeply to Huizhong. She glanced up with an absolutely besotted smile. "I'm afraid Akari was not so kind in her descriptions of you. Even Yangchen failed to mention how flowers cannot rival your beauty."
Huizhong giggled, made a joke at Akari's expense and it was all over from there.
Watching Huizhong and Siniq dance around each other during their stay in Capital City provided just the distraction Akari hoped for. Well, perhaps not the exact distraction. She was just as surprised at the sudden development between our previously unacquainted friends, but loved the result nonetheless.
It was precious watching them get to know one another and fall steadily in love. They both confided in me, and I was privy to the progression of their feelings as they figured them out. It also awakened a curiosity in me. I had never experienced such emotions as they described—the giddiness of uncertainty, the excitement of learning something new about another, the overwhelming desire to kiss the other.
Fretting over my firebending was the last thing on my mind as I now fretted over my distinct lack of romantic overtures. As Huizhong and Siniq compared the intensity of their new feelings to past fleeting crushes, I could only wonder if I had ever experienced romantic interest in another. I was a young woman, how could I have never been curious about this before? I couldn't even blame it on my Air Nomad upbringing, for several of my airbender friends had written to me about their own ventures into romance.
Oh, it's so amusing to remember what went through my head.
I wondered if, perhaps, I had been blind to my own feelings. After all, my friends liked to point out my naivety to certain social interactions. Perhaps romance fell in the same realm as politics. Had I crushed on Siniq when I first met her? I had been rather enamored by her strength and confidence, but I never thought of wanting to kiss her. Tarkik was so kind and had a way of making anyone he spoke to feel special. Had I fallen for his gentle demeanor and never noticed? I thought Huizhong an unparalleled beauty, had I mistaken my first crush as a desire for friendship?
Perhaps I simply was not a romantic individual. There were plenty of people who cared deeply for others but never felt the need to engage in courtship. But that answer didn't satisfy me.
It was then I wondered if Akari had ever had any crushes before. We spent many of our teenage years apart, and it was entirely possible she'd had passing romantic interests that she didn't think were worth mentioning. But, Akari told me everything. (Except when she didn't.) I was certain that if she'd had any romantic inclinations, she would have said.
I was just as certain that should Akari not have interest in others, she would still be overwhelmed with suitors. She was a crown princess, after all. Even if she were not an important political figure, who wouldn't fall in love with Akari after meeting her?
I was so close to realizing my own feelings, but I truly was as naive about romance as I was politics. At least I've gotten better with that in a way I never will with court manners.
As awestruck as Zuko had been making a fire cool, he also recognized his excitement was due to his inexperience. Bending heat wasn't something new. Uncle heated his tea up all the time by warming his hands. Firebenders were known to temper volcanoes by funneling the heat out of lava. There were the tales of Princess Akari's gentle flame that didn't burn. Though Zuko had never heard of an exact case like his, he doubted it was revolutionary or anything of the sort. He was content to write it off to luck and focus his efforts on finding Wan Shi Tong's library in his final weeks.
For a nonbender, Sarnai sure did have a lot of opinions about firebending. They refused to let Zuko push the incident aside. Despite Zuko attempts to dissuade them, Sarnai was convinced it was an impressive feat of bending that should be explored more.
"You're not even trying!" Sarnai whined, shoving Zuko's shoulder roughly.
Zuko scowled at the small fire lighting Sarnai's room. Neutralizing the ability to burn from that fireball had been a fluke born of desperation. There was no way Zuko would be able to replicate it, no matter how much Sarnai harassed him into trying. It had to be some sort of super advanced technique for him to have never encountered it.
"Yes I am," Zuko said, crossing his arms to glare at the fire. "I'm not as good of a firebender as you think I am. Clearly it was a lucky break and I can't do it again."
Sarnai rolled their eyes. "Of course you're not going to do it again if you're convinced you can't. Like I said. You're not trying. Close your eyes, think about what you felt when you did it last time."
The only thing Zuko felt was desperate. He had no thoughts other than the need to act without exposing himself. He hadn't been thinking when he reached out and hoped for the best. Replicating that just wasn't possible in Sarnai's room.
"It's not going to work!"
"You don't know unless you properly try!"
Zuko growled. It had been four days already of Sarnai's relentless badgering, and Zuko was sick of it. Nothing was going to change regardless of how often Sarnai snuck off with him to try. Try, try, try. It was all Sarnai had to say. Trying was all Zuko could ever do and it was never good enough.
"You know so much, why don't you try? Oh wait! You can't. I'm the firebender here. You can't bend anything! What do you know?"
As the words left his mouth, Zuko already regretted them. Sarnai recoiled, hurt flashing through their gray eyes. The taunt repeated and overlapped with another voice. Azula used to say something similar to shut him up whenever he tried to help her on the rare occasion she struggled with her firebending lessons. His input had been unwanted and unneeded; she was several years ahead of him in her training. He may have well been a nonbender in her eyes.
"Sarnai, I-"
The apology died in Zuko's throat as Sarnai leaned into his space with narrowed eyes.
"Do you think I haven't tried?" They hissed. "What do you know, Mr. Firebender? Have you ever felt your element, but couldn't answer its call? I hear it, Hui. I hear it when it starts to blow harder with warning of a coming storm. I suffocate with it when the midday sun weighs it down and holds it in place. I celebrate with it as it runs its fingers through my hair and asks me to play along. But I can't answer. I can't give my thanks, can't make it room to breathe, can't join in its games."
The room was too small. The fire crackled. It laughed at him for his carelessness. When Sarnai first told Zuko about sandbenders of air, he had been the one to suggest Sarnai should have been an airbender. They never said outright that they agreed with him, but Zuko knew they did. He saw the way they turned to the first sign of a breeze, how they never smiled brighter than when air currents whipped around them. To hear them say it now, prompted by his hurtful words...
"I didn't- Sarnai, I'm-"
"Shut up, Hui," Sarnai snapped. "I'm not saying this to make you feel guilty. I want you to stop entertaining whatever dumb shit is going through your head. I want you to close your eyes and remember what you felt. Not what you thought. Not what you were feeling emotionally. What you felt from your element. If I can hear the air, you can hear the fire. Now shut up and listen to it."
This was still stupid, but Zuko was guilted into following Sarnai's instructions. With a deep breath, Zuko closed his eyes and settled into a meditative position. His inner fire burned strong, danced under his skin as he turned his attention to it. That was the problem with Sarnai's theory, wasn't it? Fire wasn't like the other elements. It came from within. Fire was Zuko; Zuko was fire. Listening to his fire was no different from listening to himself, right?
But, that wasn't quite right either, was it? Firebenders generated their own element, but that didn't cut them off from the rest of the world. It was easier to bend in warm places because the sun lent its power. All fires connected to Agni's rays in some shape or form. They didn't connect with Zuko.
Years of strict tutors and Azula's lectures of superiority ingrained in Zuko that the only fire worth bending was his own. When it was a fire Zuko did not originally create, like in the boiler room of the Sazanami, he took complete control of it and made it his own. But, why did it have to be that way? Why did he have to possess his element?
Sarnai described air like it had a personality. They had a relationship with it, communicated with and through it even if they couldn't control it. And wasn't that how Toph described the way she saw through the earth? She listened to her element, allowed it to guide her in a way one's eyes never could. Zuko had thought briefly of Toph when reaching out for the fireball, hadn't he?
Reaching out was scary. Zuko knew his fire. He didn't have to communicate with it. If Zuko didn't dominate fire, there was a chance it could reject him. Zuko was a poor firebender. It would make sense if fire found him lacking if he gave it a choice. Communicating with his element would only end in a disaster, he was sure of it.
But if Sarnai could connect with an element they couldn't bend, how could Zuko keep their respect if he didn't even try?
Another deep breath. Zuko squeezed his closed eyes, pressure made the illusion of light dance across his eyelids. In the insulated protection of sand and leathers, the desert heat still permeated its way inside Sarnai's room. It enticed his inner fire with the promise of the desert sun's strength, of Agni's strength. There was no way Agni had anything to talk to Zuko about through the day's heat. Zuko sucked his cheeks between his teeth and bit down. The small pinprick of pain helped focus him, kept his mind from wandering to the futility of this exercise.
Forget about the sun, about Agni. There was another heat source in the room. Zuko knew it was there, even if it was too small to contribute to the current temperature. Sarnai had lit the fire with spark stones. It wasn't Zuko's fire, and he hadn't pulled it under his control yet. Zuko's chest hurt as his heart thudded violently against his rib cage. How did he communicate with a fire without commanding it? Was intent enough to start a conversation?
Spirits, this was ridiculous.
Zuko exhaled and reached. His eyes were still closed, but the room suddenly felt so bright. Three spots were brighter than their surroundings. Zuko felt the heat of the fire. He- He felt Sarnai's heat, his egg's heat, warm with their inner fires. The physical flames in the room shuddered, invited him to pay closer attention to them. It was so small—would burn through its meager fuel within the hour. Fire didn't feel sorrow or regret for its short life; it only burned and would happily burn until it was nothing more than cooling ashes and dissipating smoke.
Distantly, Zuko heard Sarnai encouraging him to try bending the heat out of the fire. It danced with interest. The room's hovering heat quivered curiously. Zuko didn't want to dominate the bright sparks around him. None of his firebending moves felt right. He pictured the way Ghashiun swirled his arms to whirl his sands and generate wind to propel the sand sailer. Before he could doubt himself, Zuko moved his arms in the same pattern. After so many weeks beside Ghashiun as he bent the sand whirlwinds, it wasn't hard to mimic the movement.
The warmth of the room spun around in trails of playful light. Zuko pulled it closer. It encircled him like an embrace, covered him like a blanket, warmed him like the sun's rays. Rather than pulling it into him, Zuko rolled the bright feeling until it condensed into a ball between his hands. When he opened his eyes, there was the faintest shimmer of hot air, but the flicker of the fire remained in the center of the room.
"Sarnai!" Zuko shouted, realizing his cheeks hurt from how wide he was smiling as he looked up and met Sarnai's equally delighted grin. "I did it!"
"I told you so," they said, too excited to be smug. Without a shred of hesitation, they shoved their hand into the flames of the fire pit. Zuko's shout of horror cut off in a strangled croak of surprise as Sarnai wiggled their fingers between the flames, laughing. "This is so strange!"
"Take your hand out, I'm putting it back," Zuko said weakly. Sarnai was so stupid to blindly trust his success like that. The second they brought their hand to their side, Zuko released the ball of heat. He didn't realize how cool the air had been against his skin until the room was back to normal.
Sarnai collapsed to the ground with an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, you have to keep practicing that. It was a delightful temperature in here when you started moving all that stale heat around."
Although Zuko wasn't focusing on it anymore, he could still feel the fire's dance, the hovering presence of the day, the strong swirl inside Sarnai, the steady pulse of his egg. His breath caught. Was this how Toph felt? Could he learn to feel even more around him?
This was ridiculous, absurd, went against everything his firebending instructors taught him. But he wasn't going to stop now. Zuko laughed breathlessly, mind racing with all the possibilities of this technique.
"Think Ghashiun will let me practice on the sand sailer?"
Sarnai barked a loud laugh as they sat up, eyes shining. "Seriously? We're going from it's 'impossible to bend heat' to wanting to use it for a sand sailer? You're fucking insane. Let's do it."
The Gentle Flame
It took me an embarrassingly long time to realize Akari and Tarkik disappeared for hours on end together. I was thoroughly distracted by playing witness to Huizhong and Siniq falling madly in love.
Their vacation could only last so long, however. Eventually, Huizhong and Siniq said their farewells to go home, with promises to return soon. Tarkik stayed behind. It was only then I realized how rarely I saw Akari or Tarkik without the other.
I wish I could say I did not immediately suspect another burgeoning romance. It made sense at the time, especially with the atmosphere Siniq and Huizhong created with their flirting. Tarkik is calm and responsible where Akari is rambunctious and impulsive. They are both adventurous and have mischievous streaks. I still stand by my assessment that they would have made a lovely couple if they'd had any attraction to each other's gender.
They laughed right in my face when I attempted to inquire after their affections for each other. There was no developing relationship between them. Instead, they were busy developing a new firebending technique. Unbeknownst to me, this was something Akari had been working on ever since she'd met Tarkik.
All those years ago, when Akari forfeit part of her inner flame to rejuvenate me, she promised to never try feeding another's inner flame again, but she never forgot. How could she forget her fire healed me? Trying to recreate this ability without the threat to her soul was at the forefront of her mind for years. Of course she interrogated Tarkik about waterbenders' healing at the first chance she got. Tarkik then became just as fascinated with the idea of a healing fire, and eagerly took on the role as teacher once more.
They mostly discussed theoreticals and expanded Akari's knowledge of human anatomy through letters. Occasionally, between visits to Ba Sing Se and her responsibilities as a firebending instructor, Akari returned to the North Pole to work with Tarkik. There had been no rush to their research, until Akari decided a healing fire might be the only way for me to turn my firebending against an opponent.
I have since overcome my struggles with controlling my flames, so few realize Akari's titular Gentle Flame was completed for me.
While she and Tarkik were never able to perfect a healing fire, Akari's gentle flame was revolutionary nonetheless. It was also exactly what I needed to complete my firebending training. Few of Akari's students have achieved this difficult technique. Willpower is the driving force of firebending, and remains so with the gentle flame. The wielder's intention to cause no harm must outweigh their fire's nature to indiscriminately burn. One must direct their fire to burn in a metaphysical sense.
When properly harnessed, the gentle flame temporarily burns the connection between sensation and awareness. A body's limbs go numb to the mind. While it may not heal in the physical sense, freeing a suffering patient from their pain is invaluable to the healing process. In a fight, it grants the wielder the advantage of fire's strength and power without the fear of causing irreparable harm. When it makes contact with an opponent, the numbing capability often throws them off and assists the gentle flame wielder's victory.
With the protection of Akari's gentle flame, I finally overcome my fear of the strength of my fire.
The end of Hui's stay was fast approaching. Sarnai wanted the library to show itself before the deadline Hui's uncle set. But they also selfishly hoped it would remain elusive so Hui would have to come back and continue searching. It was very selfish and Sarnai hated themself a little bit for wishing such a thing, but wish they did. Life with Hui was brighter, gave Sarnai hope for things they thought they had given up on a long time ago.
At first, Sarnai hadn't noticed the change. They were just happy to have someone new to question and share stories with. But Hui was different from Professor Zei or any other of the rare guests to stay with the tribe. The wind was louder with Hui around. It pushed harder, swirled faster; it made Sarnai yearn for the wind in a way they hadn't for years.
Perhaps all firebenders affected the air around them with their innate heat, or perhaps it was Hui and his special egg. Maybe the wind knew one of its children slumbered under Hui's care and reached out to it. Maybe, just maybe, as the wind reached out for its child lost to time, it noticed its child of the desert it had forgotten.
Sarnai feared the wind would forget them again once Hui left.
He made promises to visit Sarnai when his travels brought him near the Si Wong again. While Sarnai didn't doubt his sincerity, they knew it would be a long time until Hui could uphold such promises. The wind carried whispers of a long journey ahead, of a destiny that would not let Hui return until it was fulfilled.
Even if Sarnai could fool themself into thinking they could be a part of Hui's journey, they knew their heart belonged in the desert. For every story, curiosity or experience from outside the desert that Sarnai cherished, there was a contrasting story, curiosity, experience from the Si Wong. They had lived for seventeen years in the Si Wong's embrace without learning all it had to offer, and Sarnai would continue to live out their years discovering new things about their home.
And maybe, just maybe, the desert wind would answer their call one day. Until that day, Sarnai would keeping listening. They would listen and they would yearn.
Tonight, the wind was particularly chatty. It played with the limp fabric of the sand sailer and accompanied Hui's tale of a dragon stuck among the stars with a soft whistle. Seated at the edge of the sand sailer's helm, the rest of the world faded away to the bright night sky and the night breeze.
Hui's story was not for Sarnai alone. His egg sat in his lap, and he absentmindedly swirled the day's lingering heat around it. The ever-glowing egg seemed to shine a little brighter under the stars as Hui shared the warmth of his element and love. Sarnai hoped the little dragon inside would hatch soon and return Hui's love tenfold.
A sudden, strong gust almost toppled Hui from his perch. Sarnai started to laugh at his disgruntled scowl, but the wind pulled their attention past Hui and to the dunes surrounding the tribe. Something scurried to the top of a sand dune, then turned its glowing blue eyes at Sarnai. The wind swirled, pushed, and Sarnai knew.
"Hui, Hui, look!"
His gaze followed Sarnai's finger to the creature and gasped. "It can't be-"
"That's a Knowledge Seeker," Sarnai whispered, as if speaking its name aloud would make it disappear. The fox-like spirit sat on the dune and cocked its head at the pair. "I think- I think you need to follow it."
Hui fumbled for his bag to secure his egg. "Go and get Ghashiun! I'll keep an eye on it and hopefully we'll be fast enough to catch up if-"
"You can't take the risk." Sarnai felt disconnected from their body. This was it. They were supposed to have at least a few more weeks. Tomorrow was supposed to be the start of their final adventure with Hui, but it seemed destiny had other plans. "Supplies are already loaded. You've practiced enough with the sailer, you can do it without Ghashiun. The Knowledge Seeker will guide you right to the library. And you know how to follow the compass to the outposts to go home."
"What? No- But-" Hui glanced frantically between Sarnai and the spirit. It swayed with the intent to move. "You'll come with me? I'm not good at steering and bending! And what about sand sharks I'll need back up-"
The wind buffeted the sail; it billowed and snapped. The spirit startled and began its descent from the sand dune. Sarnai pulled Hui into a tight hug, then strapped him into the bender steering harness.
"I can't leave without word to Dad. And someone needs to let your uncle know." Sarnai jumped off the sand sailer. They felt weightless, untethered. "Not to mention someone has to cover your tracks. You're supposed to be a nonbender, remember? I'll figure something out, don't worry. But you need to go. Now!"
The spirit was almost out of sight. Hui hesitated, but the breeze whisked sand upward, toward the spirit. He swirled the desert's heat, prevalent even in the dark of night, urged it faster to coax air to fill the sail.
"I'll write to you with what I learn there! I'll come visit the first chance I get!"
Sarnai fought back their tears. They wanted to pull Hui back and never let him go. The wind danced around him, guided him forward and away. Hui smiled, a glint of tears reflecting out of his golden eyes.
"Thank you, Sarnai."
It wasn't a goodbye.
With a shuddering breath, Sarnai waved until Hui turned his back to focus on following the Knowledge Seeker. They continued to wave until the sand sailer disappeared behind a high sand dune. Whispers carried on the wind of promises and beginnings.
Firebending Mastery
Once I harnessed the gentle flame technique, I rapidly progressed with my firebending. Even with the setback of my dangerously hot fire, I reached mastery in just over a year.
At fifteen, I discovered I was the Avatar.
At sixteen, I received my airbending tattoos and was acknowledged as the Avatar.
At seventeen, I passed my waterbending mastery trial.
At twenty, I was declared an earthbending master.
At twenty-one, I defeated Akari in a firebending match and claimed the title of firebending master.
This victory was my first moment as a fully-realized Avatar. A six-year journey coming to a close. Nevertheless, that moment will forever be overshadowed by Akari throwing herself at me in celebration and pulling me into a kiss.
The world made sense with Akari in my arms as her lips slid over mine. I love her. I had always loved her. My love for Akari is as certain as the sunrise. It is brilliant, dependable, ever-lasting. I had basked in her loving warmth for years without realizing what it meant until she initiated that first kiss.
Where I was oblivious to my own heart, Akari had always known. For as long as she could remember, Akari knew she loved me and would spend the rest of her life by my side. Even when plagued with jealousy, Akari never doubted I loved her just the same. Akari- She truly knew me better than I knew myself at times.
Since Akari was confident in the inevitability of us, she saw no reason to define the nature of our relationship or change how we expressed our affections as I focused on completing my Avatar training. She had every intention of letting things continue as they were until I secured my position as the keeper of peace and balance.
All plans and intentions went out the window in her exuberance at my success.
She claims I was too beautiful to not kiss. I argue she simply wasn't thinking and acted on impulse, as she is wont to do. Her assertions are much more romantic, so I let her have it though I know I am right.
My heart aches as I'm smiling at the words I put to parchment. I am grateful for Akari's impulsiveness. Without it I do not know how long it would have taken me to know the bliss of holding her in the middle of the night, of stealing her lips in a soft kiss, of learning all the ways I could express my adoration. I cherish every bit of time we had exploring the facets of our love.
I wish I did not have to explore the ache of loving her while her spirit rests.
Zuko's vision blurred as the morning light glared in his eyes. His skin stretched painfully across his limbs, abused by the sandy wind and harsh sun. The muscles in his arms burned and trembled—threatened to give out at any moment. His stomach panged with emptiness. Thirst scratched at his throat.
There was no chance to stop and eat or even cover up as he chased after the Knowledge Seeker. Without his recently developed heatbending, Zuko wouldn't have lasted an hour. By guiding the desert heat, rather than generating his own fire, he achieved the endurance he once marveled at Ghashiun for. But, his endurance was close to giving out. The library spirit was relentless, only ever stopping long enough for Zuko to keep it in sight. It seemed to want him to follow, but didn't care if he survived the journey to the library. It was likely he wouldn't survive if he had to continue much longer.
The Knowledge Seeker disappeared around a dune. Zuko didn't have the energy to curse. He grit his teeth and forced himself to bend just a little faster. If he lost track of the spirit after all this-
Around the dune a stone spire jutted out of the sand. Zuko dropped his arms, but without sandbending to act as a brake, the sand sailer had enough momentum to continue coasting across the ground straight for the spire. Panicked, Zuko did the first thing that came to mind. He quickly called heat back to the sail, then jerked his body and the steering harness to the side. The sand sailer turned too fast and tilted to one side. As it began to topple over, Zuko realized the fault in his logic, as he was still strapped to the steering post. Sand exploded around him as he was thrown off his feet and the harness jerked him from his fall, leaving him to dangle helplessly from the sideways sand sailer.
Fantastic.
With the last of his strength, Zuko pulled himself up to create slack on the harness to unhook himself. He remembered his egg in the bag on his back too late, and twisted to land face-first into the sand. Slowly, he slipped the bag off his shoulder and rolled to his back with an exhausted groan. Everything ached. How was it possible for his tongue to ache?
As much as he wanted to curl up and rest where he fell, Zuko could feel the sun burning into his exposed skin. He couldn't push himself to his feet, but he at least managed to crawl through the soft sand to hide in the shade of the crashed sand sailer. Time escaped him as he succumbed to exhaustion.
The punishing light of the sun as it moved across the sky and took away Zuko's shade roused him. His eyes were crusted with sand. The skin of his scar stung. Dehydration must be playing tricks with his mind, because he saw two glowing eyes staring right into his. However, the weight on his chest argued that the spirit was not his imagination.
Zuko yelped and scrambled back as the Knowledge Seeker jumped off him with a barking laugh. They stared at each other for several moments, then it looked away and jumped on the supplies that should have been packed away on the sand sailer. The sand sailer that had been on its side and half buried in sand, but wasn't anymore. What- How-?
"Um, did-?" Zuko choked on his words and broke down into dry, painful coughs.
The Knowledge Seeker picked up a water pouch and trotted over to Zuko, dropping it on him. Trembling, Zuko grabbed the canteen and chugged half of its contents before remembering he should be rationing his water supply.
"Th-thank you," he rasped as he pulled the canteen from his lips. The Knowledge Seeker replied with an eerie canine smile and sat next to him. Zuko still wasn't convinced this wasn't all a hallucination. "Why are you helping me?"
The spirit yipped, then turned from Zuko and ran up and through a window into the spire. It wasn't so much an answer as it was an invitation to find out. Zuko was still exhausted, but his nap and a bit of water gave him the boost needed to at least take proper cover.
Thankfully, the window was low enough Zuko could reach the ledge if he stood on his toes. He peeked inside and in the dim light could make out rows upon rows of distant bookshelves. Adrenaline shot through him. He did it! He found Wan Shi Tong's library!
It probably would be better if he rested some more before venturing down into a spirit's domain. The stories said that ever since Wan Shi Tong buried its library, it was bitter towards humans on its best days and outright vicious on his worst. Facing a temperamental spirit after sailing across the desert all night was not the best idea, but it was preferable to spending one minute longer outside.
As Zuko repacked and secured his supplies to haul them down a rope, he ate a light meal and made sure to, slowly, drink more water. By the time he was ready to head down, he was less likely to collapse the second his feet touched solid ground. No better time than the present.
Repurposing the steering harness from the sand sailer saved Zuko's arms from giving out on him as he slid down the rope. He marveled at the vastness of the library. Sunlight streaming in through the single window illuminated only a small portion of Wan Shi Tong's collection, but it was still amazing. There were centuries of knowledge in these walls. How could Zuko possibly hope to find what he needed before he was old and gray?
The rope reached its end before Zuko reached the suspended walkway below. He unhooked one of his supply packs. It hit the ground with a soft thud. That didn't seem too far of a drop. Once the rest of his supplies were free, Zuko wondered how he was supposed to get back out if he couldn't reach the end of his rope.
That would be something for him to worry about when he got there. He wasn't about to turn around now. Zuko swung his bag around to his chest, unhooked his harness, then swung off the rope. He rolled through the momentum of his fall and jumped to his feet with a giddy smile. Or perhaps it was a delirious smile. Was he excited, or was his head spinning?
The Knowledge Seeker chirped, suddenly at his side, and nudged his leg. Its glowing eyes swam in Zuko's vision. Oh, that probably wasn't good. Zuko registered the distant sound of a bird's wings as he succumbed to darkness.