Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aang’s eyes snapped open to stare at the high-vaulted stone ceiling. He was sore and hurt everywhere . His lightning scar throbbed in time with his heartbeat and he felt like he’d wrestled a flying bison during rutting season and lost. His brows furrowed as he tried to remember what happened. He’d been in the middle of fighting Ozai when a Lion Turtle had shown him another way. And he’d tried it but…

He bolted upright, hand clenching his chest when his scar flared painfully—something he’d started to grow used to over the last few months. Had they lost? Where were the others?! He heard someone shift in a bed nearby and whipped his head around, only to freeze. He knew this room. He knew those children laying in their beds, heads shaved and clothed in yellow and orange. It was a sight that had haunted him for nearly a year. Something he knew he’d never see again.

His heart pounded in his throat as he silently airbended himself to his feet, only relaxing minutely when he had his staff in his hand—the familiar wood an old comfort he’d thought lost forever. He leaned somewhat heavily on his staff, still utterly exhausted from his battle with Ozai, and silently left the room.

Slowly, as if in a dream, he made his way down the familiar hallways and outside. There were… people . Monks on late night strolls, bison sleepily floating across the sky, lemurs gliding gracefully from one tree to the next. Aang couldn’t help but stare as one of the nocturnal monks casually flicked his staff open and glided to another platform. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen someone else airbend.

It felt strangely foreign. His ears picked up the faint sound of whistling, and his eyes prickled with tears. Whistle-speak was a universal Airbender language. Some called it the official tongue of the Air Nomads, and it was created by braiding strands of wind together to create specific tones and rhythms. Foreigners said it sounded like beautiful flute-like music.

To Aang, it was the first time he’d heard his native tongue in what actually felt like a century. He almost braided his own tune, his own not-words, but he was terrified. It was nearly impossible to lie in the voice of the wind. Emotions drenched whatever you said to the breeze, and it could carry for miles from the lips of an Airbender.

He was afraid that if he whistle-spoke now, he’d worry someone. He resolutely ignored the memories of desperately whistle-speaking as he traveled with his friends, praying to any Spirit that might listen that he’d get a response one day.

His friends .

Aang sat numbly on a sunning rock overlooking the grandness of the Southern Air Temple. If this was real, and he was actually in the past… Then what happened to his friends? Katara and Sokka and Toph and Zuko and Suki and everyone else he’d met on his journey . 

Abruptly, a sickening mixture of grief, relief and guilt hit him like a tsunami. He stifled a sob as best he could, forcing down the familiar sensation of the Avatar State attempting to aid him with whatever had him so grieved.

They were gone . Not even dead, they just… no longer existed . In a way, Aang thought that was worse. It was just like when he’d awoken after being frozen in ice for a hundred years. Back then, he was the only person who remembered the Air Nomads. Their ways and traditions and customs. It was solely up to him to keep his people and culture alive.

Now he felt quite similarly. He was the only one who remembered his second family. Who could keep them alive despite the fact that they’d yet to have been born. He realized belatedly that no matter which era he lived in, he would not be able to feel completely satisfied or happy. That he’d either grieve the loss of his people, or the loss of his family. He could not have both.

For a moment, he rested his foot against his knee, fingers lightly tracing the scar from Azula’s lightning. The familiar rough texture was somewhat grounding, despite the fact that the pouding in his scar had since moved to the pounding in his head. It meant that it’d been real . That Katara had healed him, which meant she’d been alive at one point.

A familiar chittering sound had him glancing to his left, where a flying lemur tilted its head in concern. It patted his leg softly, chittering more urgently, as if desperate to somehow comfort him. Aang eyed the patch of grey that tipped the lemur’s left ear—something he’d stared at a million times. 

“It can’t be…” He stared at the lemur. “Momo?”

The lemur clapped his hands, swinging himself up on Aang’s shoulder and curling his tail around his neck in a familiar gesture and made a soft purring sound as he nuzzled Aang’s arrow—something Momo did whenever he noticed Aang needed the comfort.

“It is you!” His lips curved into a wide grin, and something hopeful sparked to life in his chest. If Momo was somehow here, then maybe Appa remembered as well. Maybe he wouldn’t be completely alone.

At the start of his journey, Aang had stood beside Momo and Appa and declared that the three of them were the last of this place. The only ones that could carry on the legacy of the Air. Now he felt like he and Momo—and hopefully Appa—were the only ones of a future-that-may-never-be. And that it was up to them to keep their friends in their minds and hearts to ensure their existence was real. 

He found his gaze drifting skyward. The stars were familiar—one of the only things that hadn’t changed in the century that he’d been away for. He could almost hear Sokka pointing out some of the southern constellations and explaining what they meant for the hunting season. How the Hunter constellation always pointed his spear in the direction of home, and the Tigerseal constellation liked to swim towards promising fishing grounds in the spring. 

“I miss them.” He whispered to Momo, who made a rather sad whine.

Chapter Text

Sister Jinpa had known Brother Aang for a very long time. She’d been one of the nuns who had celebrated with him when he’d finally gotten his Mastery Tattoos. She really couldn’t get used to seeing someone so young painted with bright blue. Normally those twice his age were still working towards the markings of an Air Master.

Being twenty-seven, she had only met him when he was roughly three or four years old, after she returned from her pilgrimage. The young boy was utterly adorable—a bundle of warm summer wind with plenty of smiles to share. It really hadn’t taken her long to swiftly take the child under her wing. The rest of the Temple had followed swiftly thereafter. Aang may have been fifteen years younger than her, but he lit up the Temple halls with laughter and joy the likes of which was rarely seen these days.

Which was why she knew something was very wrong. Normally, Aang would wake up several hours into the day and then either sneak away with Master Gyatso or go play with his friends. On the rare occasions he was awake at sunrise, he would use that time to meditate or fly with his bison, Appa. Today, however, he was up earlier than even Jinpa herself, and she awoke just past daybreak.

She eyed the young boy as he sat on a tree branch, gazing out over the temple grounds with an almost forlorn look that was nothing like his usual cheerful expression. His bare feet hung off his perch as he gently stroked the back of a flying lemur.

Jinpa made sure to step on some twigs to announce her arrival, but he didn’t even twitch, too lost in his thoughts to acknowledge her presence. For a moment, her eyes caught on a rather terrible looking burn scar on the bottom of one of his feet, but she couldn’t remember any incident of Aang getting hurt. She decided to ignore it for now.

“Someone’s in a bit of a mood.” 

Aang startled at the sound of her voice, grey eyes flickering towards her. For a moment, Jinpa felt a chill crawl up her back. There was something heavy and tragic in his eyes. A weight that made him feel infinitely older than the twelve years she knew him to be. Then he smiled, and the weight was masked with something akin to relief and guilt.

“Jinpa.” She hated that there was some kind of shadow in his voice, just like his eyes. His smile was tinged with sorrow. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“I could tell.” She airbended herself to his branch, ignoring the way he stiffened in surprise, like he hadn’t expected her to join him. “You seem…” heavy, sorrowful, quiet, something is wrong tell me what it is, “down.” She eventually settled on. “What’s bothering you?”

Aang gave a heavy sigh, not even bothering to contradict her. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind.” He shook his head.

“Sometimes sharing one’s burdens can help lighten the load?” She offered, but the boy took a shaky breath, like the advice was painful .

Aang opened his mouth to say something, only to close it again. After a moment of struggling to find what he wanted to say, he sighed. “How long until the Comet Festival?”

Jinpa frowned sharply to let him know she did not appreciate the way he’d avoided the topic, but answered his question nonetheless. “Ten days.”

Aang pulled one leg up to his chest and rested his head on his knee. For a moment, she thought that he might’ve just been tired. But then she saw his shoulders shaking in a manner she’d seen from panicked travelers who were running away from bandits or attackers. Aang was visibly struggling to keep his breathing under control. The information was obviously a cause for great distress, though Jinpa had no idea why. 

It was incredibly rare for an Airbender to lose control of their breathing , it was their literal element. One of the first things airbending children were taught was breath control . Not only was it the core of everything they did, but if a child of Air were to lose control of their breathing while bending, the results could be deadly. Especially if they were gliding. 

Jinpa gently put a hand on Aang’s back, rubbing calming circles into his spine to help remind him of the breathing patterns he’d learned in his early years. After a moment of following her motions, he relaxed. Not as much as she would like, but enough to at least breathe properly.

“What’s wrong?” Her voice shook, but Aang didn’t seem to really hear her. Seeing another Airbender this out of sorts for seemingly no reason… seeing Aang this out of sorts… it scared her more than she’d like to admit.

“Ten days…” He whispered to himself. “That’s… not enough time.”

“Aang.” She waited until his eyes focused on her. She wove strands of wind together, pushing them through her lips like a crystalline flute. Tones conveying the emotion she could not put common words to. /I’m worried about you./

The boy’s eyes moistened at the whistle-speak. In that moment Jinpa recalled the occasion where she had helped a young water tribe mother find her lost 8-year-old son, who had been swept away in a storm. The moment she’d found him—alive and relatively unharmed—she’d burst into tears and held him close.

Somehow, Aang’s expression reminded her of that mother. But instead of the relief of the reunited pair, his eyes reminded her of the pain she’d carried when she spoke of a missing child. Jinpa’s heart ached as she carefully pulled the young Air Nomad into her embrace.

Aang melted into her, shoulders trembling with silent sobs as his arms wrapped around her. “I’m scared.” He whispered softly. “I’m afraid that they’re gone forever and that it’s somehow my fault.”

The words made no sense to the nun. She hadn’t heard of Aang fighting with any of his friends, nor did she hear of anyone leaving the temple lately. Pilgrimages weren’t until the Spring , so it couldn’t be that. But her confusion wasn’t what Aang needed right now. What this boy needed was the reassurance that someone was there. She gently ran her hand over the back of his head, whispering softly to him. “You’ll be okay. No matter what, you are not alone. The Wind is always here.”

Her words made him cry harder. (Worryingly silent, she noted. Aang had always been a loud child, whether it was in joy or sorrow. When did he learn to cry so quietly? Why? ) She caught the eye of a few Monks who had stumbled upon the scene. They stared with wide confused eyes—everyone knew Aang was one of the most positive and cheerful people in the Southern Air Temple. To see him in such a state was shocking and heartbreaking. Jinpa carefully shook her head to indicate they should let them be. Despite the worry on their faces, they turned and left, trusting their sister to handle the distraught child.

It took worryingly long for Aang to calm down. Children of the Air were fleeting with many things, and emotions were usually one of them. That he’d cried for long enough that Agni had moved a noticeable distance in the sky meant it was something that’d disturbed him on a deeply spiritual level.

“There.” She gently wiped away his tears. “Do you feel a little better?”

“I guess.” He seemed a little lighter, his smile coming a tad more easily, but that horrible weight was still there. “I’m sorry, for… y’know.”

Jinpa shook her head. “Aang. I’m your Sister . I’m here for you. Air is family.” She paused for a moment before the distant whistle-speak of the children reached her ear. “Why don’t you go play a round or two of airball?” She gestured towards the court. 

“Airball?” His voice was strangely distant, like the concept of playing one of his favorite games was foreign. Perhaps those monks had been pushing him too hard.

“Don’t worry about your training today.” She sent him a wink. “When we’re spiritually unsound, sometimes it’s best to let Vayu’s wind guide us. And what better way than letting go and having some fun?” She gently nudged him off the branch, following him as they gracefully floated to the ground.

“But the Monks—”

“You let me worry about them today.” She softly pushed him towards the court. “Go on. Take a day off and have some fun, little breeze.”

After a moment, Aang’s lips quirked into a hesitant smile. There was a glimmer of excitement in his eye that had her shoulders relaxing with relief.

“All right. Thank you, Sister Jinpa.”

With that, the boy sped off, glider whipping open as he soared into the sky with more grace than she could remember. She hoped he would be okay.

Ten days to the Comet Festival

Aang tried his best to relax a little. To spend time with friends that he felt like he hadn’t seen in ages—friends whose names sometimes escaped him despite the fact that they’d all known one another since infancy. He tried to allow himself to get lost to the breeze, to let his troubles fly away and enjoy the moment.

But his mind conjured the images that’d haunted him. Small skeletons laying in the ruins of the Southern Air Temple, wearing the clothes of the very people he was currently trying to play with. Sometimes the area around him would flicker, pristine buildings giving way to dilapidated ruins. He did his best to ignore the flickers. It was nothing more than his mind playing tricks on him.

“Aang!” The voice whipped him out of his thoughts just in time to catch the ball that’d been about to knock him off his pole. He quickly spun around and passed the ball back towards one of his teammates, watching somewhat distantly as they leapt from one pole to the next.

He found himself growing weary, and not just mentally and spiritually. He was still hurt from his fight with Ozai. Though he didn’t think there was anything major that was wrong with him, his ribs were screaming at him and his left ankle kept trying to roll out from under him. Bruises, burns and sprains, it would seem. Considering he’d been fighting the Fire Lord , he thought he came out pretty all right. Even still, he probably shouldn’t be playing Airball with his injuries. He dearly missed Katara.

“You okay, Aang?” Dedan, one of his close friends and fellow chaos-makers, glided over towards him. “You seem kind of…” He paused, trying to think, before switching to whistle-speak. /I’m worried./ There were echoes of emotion there. A deep concern for Aang and his distance from the others. The other kids glanced over, adding their own concern-laced whistle-speak to the conversation.

/Worried/

/You okay?/

/You sad?/

Aang swallowed thickly. It seemed he hadn’t been able to pretend as well as he’d hoped. For the first time since traveling back, he let his own whistles float through the air. A familiar phrase he’d whistled almost religiously in his year of travel. /I’m here./ The tones were sorrowful and lonely and he instantly felt bad when all the kids flinched.

They must’ve seen the guilt flash in his eyes because they were quick to reassure him. Dedan hopped over to his little pole and wrapped him in a hug. /I’m with you./

/Not alone/

/We’re here/

Several other whistles—older whistles from monks and nuns that’d happened to hear the conversation on the wind—also floated towards them. Questions of concern, offers of guidance. /Do you need us there?/ they asked.

Aang felt something in him relax. He’d been so scared to whistle-speak. Afraid that somehow it’d shatter whatever illusion this time had become. Terrified that he wouldn’t get an answer. The weight off his shoulders was nearly physical, and he blinked away a few tears of relief. 

/Thank you./ His whistle was lighter now, freer. It was still deeper than he’d like, sharpened by a year of war and guilt, but it was much closer to his old self, if the smiles of his friends were anything to go by.

“Hey.” Dedan bumped his shoulder gently. “Since you don’t seem to wanna play Airball, how about we cause some mischief instead?”

“I think I know where a few of the older monks are meditating!” Ceba glided over, a whistle-chirp of excitement slipping through the gap between his front teeth. The thirteen-year-old boy was grinning. “Brother Kipu managed to sneak us some fruit pies to throw at them!”

Aang felt his lips quirk up into a smile. “Well, I have gotten better with my aim.” He stage-whispered to the others, who giggled in excitement. Whistles filled the air as the boys raced to the ground, grabbing their gliders and soaring into the air. 

The young Avatar took a moment to admire the scene before him. Of other people taking to the skies on wings of orange just like him. With a laugh of his own, he chased after them, whistle-speaking excitedly about their plans. For this moment, and this moment alone, Aang would allow himself to forget the coming war. The Fire Nation army that would arrive in less than two weeks. The friends that did not yet exist. 

For this one moment, he let himself be carried away on the wind with the laughter of his friends to guide him.

Chapter Text

Eight days to the Comet Festival

Aang had a plan. It probably wasn’t as good as one of Sokka’s plans would be, but it was better than nothing. Sozin’s forces would be attacking in eight days. Aang had spent one day goofing off with his old friends (and he did feel better after that, but he was running out of time and that thought alone left him wanting to curl up and scream.) Another day had been spent stuck training with some of the monks. He’d admit that he felt a little bit smug when he demonstrated his new airbending skills that he’d honed over the last year. He used that ‘improvement’ as an excuse to ask for another day off.

It was thankfully granted. Now he sat with Momo in an isolated area of the Temple’s grounds, tracing out battle plans in the dirt with a stick and his earthbending. He eyed the tiny to-scale model of the Southern Air Temple. Toph would be proud. He eyed the miniature pillars the temple was built upon and felt his lips pull into a sharp frown.

What could he do? If the Fire Nation could reach the Temple without their balloons, how could he possibly keep them from attacking? From what little he knew of the invasion, they’d propelled themselves up with flame alone, gifted the strength and stamina to do so by the comet.

“Sokka… I really wish you were here.” Aang groaned. He could try to warn the Elders, but there was a high risk that they’d brush him off. They hadn’t even technically told him he was the Avatar yet. If he ran in there saying he’d spoken to Avatar Roku and claiming the Fire Nation was on the attack… Well, he wasn’t sure they’d actually believe him.

Even if they did , he had no way to prepare them for what was to come. Even Aang himself thought the Temples were safe from an attack until he found the remains of the Fire Nation soldiers in the ruins of his home. The idea of a non-Airbender reaching the main Temple without a bison was entirely foreign in this era. He wasn’t sure he could convince the Elders that it wasn’t just some weird nightmare.

Even pulling the Roku card wouldn’t guarantee anything, because technically Aang shouldn’t be able to speak to Roku outside a solstice without training. Even though Avatar Yangchen had often had nightmares in her youth, unable to tell past from present, they were memories of previous lives, not conversations with them. Aang couldn’t claim to have the same or similar connection to the other Avatars, not when he’d lived his life normally up to this point.

He flopped back into the dirt with a groan. Momo gave an inquisitive sound as he settled himself carefully on Aang’s stomach, wary of the bruised ribs the boy still sported. “I guess I could always whip out my other elements if I need to prove my story.” 

The idea was ludicrous. The entire situation was ludicrous. In the worst possible scenario, Aang would be sent away with mutters of extreme spiritual disturbances—the same kind of spiritual disturbances that had people leaving the temples on pilgrimages for years at a time. He’d be forced to leave the Southern Temple, still miss the attack and have nothing to show for all his struggles.

Beyond that, Appa hadn’t appeared once in the three days since he awoke. He was starting to get concerned. If Momo had returned to the past with him, Appa should also have his memories. At least, Aang dearly hoped so. Either way, the bison should’ve already come to Aang, but he hadn’t. The boy missed his friend desperately. Not having Appa nearby was a little too similar to the aftermath of the Library.

Momo chittered almost chidingly, snapping Aang from his thoughts. “Thanks Momo.” He patted his friend on the head, returning his attention to his plans. “If we can just buy enough time to get everyone out of here…” He bit his lip, wishing he’d asked people more about the Air Nomad Genocide. He didn’t know enough details to make plans against it.

How had they stopped people from fleeing on their bisons? From which direction did they attack? Was it under the cover of night, or in broad daylight when firebending was at its strongest, but Airbenders were at their most awake and alert?

Aang suppressed a shudder at the thought of fighting an army of Firebenders at high noon during Sozin’s Comet . “It’s no good.” He despaired. “I’m not Sokka. I’m not the planning guy.” He bemoaned softly to Momo. “I just have to work with what I have.”

He got to his bare feet and shifted his stance, bending the earth before him. The tiny Temple rippled and sank back into the dirt, looking exactly as it had before Aang had started his planning.

If the air was rendered unsafe for an escape, then Aang would have to think outside the box. There had to be something . A place that nobody would expect to find the Airbenders…

He paused in his pacing, eyes drifting towards the edge of a small cliff that jutted out of the ground before him. A small grin spread across his lips as the barest outlines of a plan began to form in his mind.

Nobody knew he was an Earthbender, and Air Nomads were notoriously wary of small enclosed spaces, especially ones underground . It was natural, after all. Firebenders were wary around icy watery terrain, Waterbenders were wary in dry arid environments, and Earthbenders were somewhat terrified in the sky or over deep open water—something the group had learned the hard way with Toph. Everyone had an instinctive unease around their opposite, deprived of that which they called home.

He let his gaze slip towards Momo, beckoning the lemur back onto his shoulders. “C’mon, Momo. We’ve got a lot of work to do.”

Chapter Text

Five days to the Comet Festival

Kipu was tired . He was in the middle of preparing for his Coming of Age pilgrimage in the spring. This autumn he would turn sixteen—the age that all Air Nomads set out on a journey of self-discovery in one of the three other nations. He was beyond excited to see the world for the first time on his own, but that also meant he needed to study the world so he didn’t get himself into trouble. His guardian had warned him more than once of Air Nomads that had perished on their pilgrimages because they were underprepared.

“The world isn’t what it used to be,” he remembered his guardian saying, “you can’t just wander around and expect to find goodwill and a hot meal anymore. Sometimes people will pretend to help you and then rob you blind of all you have, even your staff! You must be careful.”

Honestly, if the world was that bad, then perhaps they needed more Air Nomads out there. If kindness was something to be wary of, then the world was truly in a sorry state. “Be the change you want to see in the world.” He reminded himself with a deep breath.

Kipu shook his head, using the whistle-speak floating outside the window to pull himself out of his thoughts. A light smirk tugged at his lips as he listened to the children outside bantering in the wind. It seemed the elders were going to have to find a new place to hide their airpaints.

He turned his focus back towards one of his scrolls, this one explaining commerce and finances, something quite foreign to most Air Nomads who’d never left the temple. A hesitant knock at the door broke the fragile focus he’d managed to scrape together. He blinked when he saw who it was.

“Aang?” The boy’s presence wasn’t unusual, though the early hour of the visit was. Aang and Kipu were quite close to one another despite the four year age gap. Though Nomads didn’t have family units like the other nations, from what he could understand of his texts, he and Aang acted like familial brothers—each causing trouble for the other, but there without fail when they needed someone.

And today looked like the ‘in need of someone’ kind of day. He patted the cushion beside him, watching as the boy silently padded into the room, usual exuberance replaced with something like hesitation.

“Hey Kipu.”

The older boy’s eyes sharpened as he took in the strange gait of the younger. Was… was Aang hurt ? If he was, he was hiding it admirably well—which was worrying in and of itself. The last time Kipu could remember Aang getting hurt was after an incident where he’d accidentally blown half his class off a cliff during some lessons. A couple of the kids had become frightened of him, and had lashed out in fear. The monks had quickly settled the situation, separating the boys who caused the ruckus and putting Aang in an advanced class for airbending, as he had a lot of power but little control at the time.

It hadn’t stopped the ‘accidents’, but once Kipu realized what was going on and reported it to the Elders, the troublemaking boys were sent to the Northern Air Temple for self-reflection. Despite what people liked to think, Air Nomads were not faultless or perfect. They were human too, and humans could be quite cruel when they became scared.

Perhaps it was because Kipu had been Aang’s protector during those times, but the boy always came to him whenever he was dealing with something he couldn’t fix alone.

“Don’t tell me someone’s bullying you again.”

Aang seemed startled at the words. He puzzled for a moment before his eyes widened in realization. “No! No, it’s… that’s not…” 

“You’re hurt.” Kipu cut him off, setting his brush down to turn his full attention towards the boy.

“It’s fine. It’s not… what you think.” He took a breath, continuing on before the older Airbender could comment further. “Kipu. Do you trust me?”

The older Nomad was thrown for a loop. “Of course I trust you.”

“No, I mean… Do you trust me? Even if it’s something I can’t really explain?” There was a foreign weight to his words. This was something deeper than whatever Kipu’s mind could come up with. He may not have understood what Aang was getting at, but he understood that it was important. He took a moment to center his mind. Aang was his friend. His Brother . Even if whatever he had to say sounded outlandish, he would at least do him the respect of listening.

“I trust you.”

Aang let out a breath of relief. The younger looked like some kind of weight had fallen from his shoulders, and Kipu was twisting his mind in all sorts of windshapes to try to figure out what was going on. “I need your help. Come with me.” The twelve-year-old grabbed Kipu’s hand and started pulling him out of the room, barely giving him time to snatch his staff. He had a moment to wonder when the kid had grown strong enough to forcibly pull him around before protests started spilling from his lips.

“W-wait a minute! You didn’t explain anything! Aang! You can’t just pull me away from my studies!”

The boy glanced back at him over his shoulder, and Kipu felt the air in his lungs grow cold. There was something in his eyes that had any further protests sputter and die. He had never seen anyone look so serious before, not even his guardian when talking about the Nomads who never made it home from their pilgrimages. He may not have known what that look was, but he knew one thing with absolute certainty. Those were not the eyes of a boy.

Kipu matched his pace with Aang’s, following the child as he led them outside and down a few rough paths. Eventually, they reached an isolated and well-hidden cavern entrance. The older boy frowned. He’d played in this secluded area many times as a young boy, but he’d never noticed this cavern before. Had it always been there?

“You need to memorize this path.” Aang’s voice echoed in the cavern around them with the same tone of a teacher expecting a student to listen without question. It was the tone, more than anything, that had Kipu warily falling into a fluid stance as they walked, ready to airbend at a moment’s notice.

“I don’t understand… Aang, what’s going on?” He did his best to ignore the paranoia that crept up his spine. No Airbender liked being underground. It felt… stagnant . Confining. Wrong. Dangerous. The knowledge that if something went wrong, he couldn’t just escape into the sky made him feel unnerved and twitchy. He was so bothered by the itch under his skin caused by the feeling of being in an enclosed space, that he almost didn’t hear Aang speak.

“Kipu. I need you to promise not to tell anyone anything until the right time. Okay?”

“I can keep a secret, but if it’s going to get someone into serious trouble…” Had one of the kids adopted some dangerous animal? Were they hiding it in the tunnels?

“I mean it .” Aang spoke in a firm tone that Kipu had never really heard from an Airbender before. The closest he could think of was when he went on a trip with his guardian to the borders of the Earth Kingdom. Aang sounded as firm and stony as an Earthbender. He was distantly impressed.

“I… Something bad is going to happen soon, and we’re no where near ready.” Aang’s voice echoed around them as he led Kipu down twisting tunnels. He pointed towards small glowing stones embedded in the ceiling. “If you lose your way, follow the stones. They glow really faintly, so you’ll need to snuff out any torches to see them. Though it’s best not to use any lights when coming down here anyways.” 

The boy was unusually serious. His tone and expression—what little he could see by the strange glow of the luminescent stones—was so unlike the cheerful Airbender he knew. “Aang… you’re scaring me. What is going on?”

They stopped at what felt like the bottom of the cavern. Kipu realized it was a steep ledge. Only an Airbender could get down that safely, he noted. With all the rocks jutting out at strange angles, it seemed like it’d been formed with Airbenders in mind. Like some Earthbender had created an underground obstacle course.

“I can’t explain it all,” Aang started after they reached the other side of the obstacles, “but you need to be ready. You’ve heard the rumors about how the Fire Nation plans to attack the Earth Kingdom, right?”

“How did you–?” Kipu cut himself off. Aang was good at sneaking around and listening in on things he shouldn’t. He’d likely heard the elders arguing about whether they should send aid to the Earth Kingdom. “Okay, so what about it?”

“What if the Fire Nation doesn’t attack the Earth Kingdom?” Aang’s words had him slowing his pace in confusion. “What if it’s a distraction ?”

“A distraction?” He echoed, a horrible sinking feeling churning his gut. “For what? Why would they need…”

“What if they attack us instead?”

The words were phrased like a question, but spoken with the surety of someone stating a fact. The scenario flitted through his mind. If Fire Nation soldiers marched on unprepared Air Nomads, it’d be a disaster. Sure, they’d likely be able to fight them off—airbending always had an edge when the bender was at a higher elevation—but they were a peaceful people. They usually avoided combat whenever possible. Unlike other bending disciplines, airbending was centered around the idea of ‘fight to disengage or incapacitate’. In a long drawn-out fight, or a fight with multiple enemies aiming to kill, most Air Nomads would be at a hefty disadvantage. Not to say they’d lose outright, but it would depend entirely upon how many enemies and allies there were.

“They couldn’t even get up here though.” Kipu shook his head to dispel the rather distressing what-ifs. Such scenarios didn’t matter if they weren’t possible. “Besides, why would they attack us ? We’re not a threat.”

“The Avatar’s a threat.” Aang pointed out tersely. “And he’s an Airbender who was born in this generation.” 

Kipu winced. It was a fairly convincing point. The Avatar would be a threat to someone who wanted to wage war. Especially if that Avatar came from the peaceful Air Nomads who were firmly against war. He would’ve liked to be able to argue the fact that the Avatar was just a child right now—wherever they may be at the moment—and that even the Fire Nation wouldn’t be cruel enough to go after a kid , but some distant part of his mind hesitated in letting the comment pass through his lips. Instead, he opted for a different argument. “Okay, but they still can’t get up here.”

“What if they could , though?” Aang’s eyes held his gaze like an elder speaking to a child. “If they found a way, if they managed to somehow make it up to the Temple. Do you think we could survive?”

Survive . Kipu’s mouth went dry. Aang wasn’t asking if they could win , he was asking if they could survive . Any answer he had was washed away by the grave expression of the younger Nomad. This wasn’t the kind of question a child should be asking. That expression wasn’t the kind of face a child should wear.

Kipu fleetingly wondered if he’d somehow stumbled into the Spirit World because nothing made sense anymore. He felt himself creeping towards the edge of a distant hysteria. There was so much that wasn’t making sense right now. Aang was a carefree and lighthearted boy who laughed like the wind and ran away from trouble with a grin. He wasn’t this serious-faced boy that led him down mysterious tunnels and started talking about war and survival .

Aang’s earlier words echoed in his mind, begging him to trust him. Kipu felt a pang of guilt. Aang was Aang. Regardless of why he was acting so differently now, he had asked Kipu to trust him. Asked him in a way that told the older Nomad that the younger couldn’t bring this to anyone else. He took a deep breath and shoved his rationality into the far corner of his mind. 

“Okay. Let’s say they somehow do make it up to us. We have the bison. We have Vayu’s winds. We could flee.”

“And what if we can’t? We’re Air Nomads . If someone’s planning to attack us, they’ll have to account for the obvious. Bison and gliders are practically our trademarks.” 

Kipu wanted to scream. The more Aang countered his arguments, the more Kipu started to see the very real possibility of an incredibly devastating event. Fear was starting to take root deeply within him. What if this did happen? What if the Fire Nation did find a way up to the Temple? What if they somehow prevented them from getting to their bisons, or destroyed their gliders? What would they do then?

“These tunnels will be our escape.” Aang continued, having taken his silence for what it was—an admission of defeat. “They’ll never expect Air Nomads to escape underground .” For the first time since Aang had come into his room, the boy smiled. It was small and tentative, but it was more of a relief to see than Kipu thought it’d be. “I need you to memorize the route. You and I will be the only ones that know about it for now. Just in case .”

“You sound like you know something.” Kipu narrowed his gaze even as he followed Aang further into the underground tunnels. It felt like they were headed towards the bottom of the great spires. “Hey, um… How deep does this go?”

Aang smirked, his eyes brightening with a familiar mischief. “Wanna race me to find out?”

“You? Race me ?” Kipu put a hand over his chest dramatically. “That’s a little unfair, don’t you think?”

“You’re right. It is unfair.” Aang nodded sagely. “For you.”

“You’re on.”

The boy’s smirk became a full-blown grin. “Just follow the glowing stones and you’ll be fine.” He shot off, leaving Kipu to eat his dust. “WATCH OUT FOR THE WATERFALL!”

“WHAT?!” Kipu yelped as he created a burst of wind to spur himself forth. 

Aang was shockingly agile. The boy had always been fast and lithe, but that dang Air Scooter he’d invented only made it harder for Kipu to keep up. The older Airbender frowned when he realized his glider would be useless in such an enclosed area. He’d have to make do with traditional airbending.

They dashed around corners, rounded bends, shot down sheer drops and hopped over boulders that tried to block their path. At one point, the two had to dash through a magnificent underground waterfall, parting the torrent falling from above with airbending and flitting through the momentary gap. The two were neck-and-neck when Kipu saw a glimmer of sunlight ahead. He did his best to ignore the irritating feeling that Aang was going easy on him. 

“I WIN!!” Aang shouted proudly as they broke through a curtain of moss. Kipu turned to say something when he stopped short, mouth dropping open as he stared up at the stone that jutted out of the earth and pierced the clouds. Staring up at it from the ground, he wondered if anyone could possibly reach the top without a bison. It suddenly seemed impossible now.

“We’re… on the ground.” Kipu spoke numbly. He’d left the temple before, but he’d never taken a trip to the ground . Well, not the ground by the Temple. He wasn’t sure anybody ever bothered to go to the base of the great spires upon which the Southern Air Temple was built.

“Over there’s the Temple.” Aang pointed off towards one of the larger mountain bases. “We’re far enough away that anyone looking for survivors won’t find us.” He spoke far too casually for Kipu’s tastes, but the kid was smiling and didn’t seem to linger on the gravity of his statement. He wasn’t about to call attention to it when he was so relieved to see Aang acting more like himself. “And there’s a clearing nearby where we can hide our bison! So long as you can guide everyone here, we should make it out of this all right.”

Kipu opened his mouth to say something—perhaps comment on the way the boy was speaking as if an attack was inevitable—when Aang’s words caught up with him. “Me?” He turned to fully stare at the boy, whose grin was starting to fade away with confusion. “What do you mean, Aang? You’re not… If an attack were to happen, you’d be coming with us.”

Aang shook his head. “Remember when I said you needed to keep this a secret?” He took a deep breath and fell into a bending stance. It was casual and strangely unfamiliar, but Kipu knew a stance when he saw one. Except Aang’s hands weren’t forming any airbending movements he knew. Air was quick, subtle at times, but airbending usually required fast twisting motions. This was a slow, almost beckoning motion that flowed like…

Kipu’s eyes widened when a stream of water flowed towards Aang’s hand, swirling around his wrist. The boy looked up at him hesitantly, but Kipu’s brain was still trying to process what he was seeing.

Only one being in the world could bend more than one element. And the last one had been Avatar Roku, a fire-born. The next in the cycle would be… 

“You’re the Avatar.” He breathed.

“It’s a secret.” Aang insisted, flicking his wrist to return the water to wherever he got it from.

“Those tunnels… Did you make them?” Kipu would’ve said it was impossible. Aside from a few trips with his guardian, Aang had never left the Southern Air Temple for any extended period of time, except to bond with his bison and to get his Mastery Tattoos. He was sure he’d  never been gone long enough to train under foreign bending masters, and the Avatar traditionally didn’t start training until sixteen. Aang was twelve , he shouldn’t even know about what he was yet. 

“I did. I can’t explain it yet, but please trust me .” 

He would’ve trusted Aang even if he wasn’t the Avatar. But the fact that he was only made the entire situation more dire. Because this wasn’t a hypothetical situation spun with a well-thought-out argument from a paranoid twelve-year-old anymore. This was a warning from the Avatar himself. This was a measure to protect their people. The Balance .

Kipu sat on a stone, cradling his head in his hands. “Why… did you come to me?” He glanced up when he felt he could do so without the world tilting. “If you told the Elders—”

“You know how they are. Do you really think they’d listen to me? They know I’m the Avatar, and even still I’m just a kid to them. Think about it, Kipu. You were listening to my words even before I showed you waterbending. That is why I went to you. You think things through and listen to both logic and instinct.” Aang flashed him with a smile. “If anything happens, I trust you to lead everyone to safety. To protect them.”

Kipu felt something within him stir. A mixture of warmth and determination. Avatar or not, Aang was still Aang . “Don’t worry, little brother. You leave it to me.” His grin faltered slightly. “Uh… we don’t have to go back up there by tunnel , do we?”

Aang laughed.