Chapter Text
The morning sun spilled across Ember Island, warming the courtyard and the sea breeze. The Gaang was already awake—Aang balancing on driftwood posts, Katara practicing water forms in the shallows, Zuko sharpening his swords, and Suki stretching with her fans.
But Sokka? He hadn’t moved since the night before. He lay sprawled under a thin blanket in the Ember Island house, his Crescent Moon Blade leaning against the wall beside him.
Katara peeked in more than once, frowning. “He hasn’t gotten up all morning. What if something’s wrong?”
Aang set down his staff and walked over, calm as always. “He’s fine, Katara.”
She crossed her arms. “How can you be sure? He barely ate dinner last night, and now he’s just… sleeping the whole day away. That’s not normal for him.”
Aang smiled gently. “Actually, it is—just not for our Sokka. He’s not just your brother anymore. He’s… connected to the moon now. Spirits work differently. Yue told him balance matters, right? Maybe this is how he keeps it. He sleeps through the day to stay strong at night.”
Katara hesitated, torn between worry and acceptance. “So I should just… let him sleep?”
Aang nodded. “Yeah. If Sokka’s body and spirit are telling him to rest, then that’s what he needs. He’ll wake when the moon does. And when he does—he’ll be ready for us again.”
Katara sighed, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “It’s hard. He’s my brother. I’m used to looking out for him.”
Suki approached from the courtyard, her voice soft but steady. “He’s looking out for all of us now. Let him rest, Katara. Tonight, he’ll be himself again.”
Katara gave a reluctant smile. “I guess… I just have to trust him. And Yue.”
From the room, Sokka shifted slightly, mumbling something in his sleep—half a joke, half a sigh—and the three of them exchanged a quiet laugh.
For now, they let him rest. The moon would wake him soon enough.
The first light of dawn hadn’t yet touched Ember Island. Katara stirred from her mat, drawn by the faint sound of steel clashing against steel. She padded softly to the courtyard, expecting maybe Zuko or Suki at early practice.
Instead, she froze at the sight before her.
Under the pale glow of the full moon, Sokka moved with fluid precision, Crescent Moon Blade in hand. Each strike, each parry flowed with a grace she had never seen in him before—less the clumsy warrior she grew up with, more the seasoned guardian he was becoming.
But he wasn’t alone.
Opposite him, Yue’s spirit shimmered, her gown flowing as though caught in an unseen tide. In her hands was a staff of silver light. She met each of Sokka’s blows with elegant defense, sparring him in silence. The clash wasn’t violent—it was rhythmic, like a dance.
Katara’s breath caught in her throat. To her eyes, it was surreal: her brother fighting the air, his blade ringing against nothingness—yet moving as though guided by a partner only he could see. But every so often, the silver light of Yue’s staff flashed bright enough for Katara to glimpse her form, like the moon revealing itself through clouds.
Sokka’s expression wasn’t strained; it was calm, focused, reverent. He looked alive in a way Katara hadn’t seen in years.
The duel ended with Yue pressing the staff lightly against his blade, then fading back a step. She smiled at him—warm, proud—and her form shimmered until it was gone, leaving Sokka alone in the moonlight.
He exhaled slowly, bowing his head. “Thank you.”
Katara swallowed hard, stepping back before he noticed her. Her heart was a swirl of emotions—confusion, awe, relief, and a strange peace.
For the first time, she realized her brother’s bond with Yue wasn’t just memory or grief. It was living, present, sacred.
“Every night feels less like a duty and more like… home, with you,” Sokka murmured. “I don’t know if I’m doing enough, but when I fight, when I protect them—it feels like you’re guiding me. Like you’re right here.”
The air stirred, and Yue’s spirit form shimmered faintly once more. Her smile was gentle, her gaze filled with quiet pride.
“You honor me with every step you take,” Yue said, her voice like waves brushing the shore. “I gave you my light because I knew you would carry it—not as a burden, but as a bond.”
Sokka’s throat tightened. “It’s more than a bond. It’s… you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to say goodbye, Yue. And maybe I don’t want to.”
Yue reached out, her hand brushing just above his cheek, the touch more warmth than substance. “You don’t need to say goodbye. The moon doesn’t leave—it changes, but it’s always there. As am I.”
Katara pressed a hand to her chest, watching her brother’s face soften with reverence and something close to love. The weight of her old worries melted away. This wasn’t obsession or madness. It was devotion, rooted in something sacred and mutual.
For the first time, Katara truly understood: Yue wasn’t just a memory he clung to. She was still with him—alive in spirit, alive in purpose—and Sokka’s love for her gave him strength instead of breaking him.
Katara turned quietly back to her room, tears pricking her eyes but her lips curved into a smile. For the first time since the night Yue rose into the sky, Katara felt peace for her brother.
Sokka padded softly back into the Ember Island house, the Crescent Moon Blade slung across his back, his steps lighter than when he had left. His hair caught a silver gleam from the fading moonlight, and his eyes still carried the calm glow of his midnight prayers.
Katara was waiting in the hallway. She hadn’t gone back to sleep, still wrapped in her blanket, her face thoughtful.
She watched him pass, then whispered gently:
“If Dad could see you now… what do you think he’d say?”
Sokka stopped mid-step. His back straightened, but his shoulders trembled faintly. He turned halfway toward her, moonlight painting his profile.
“I think…” His voice cracked, then steadied. “…I think he’d be proud. Not because I’ve got a magic sword or glowing hair, but because I didn’t run. I stayed. I took responsibility.”
Katara stepped closer, her expression soft. “You’ve always carried more than you had to, Sokka. Even when Dad left, you were the one who tried to hold everything together.”
He gave a small, tired chuckle. “And I wasn’t very good at it, was I? All those training drills, all the speeches… but I wanted to make him proud. I wanted to make you proud.”
Katara’s eyes shone. “You don’t have to try anymore. You already have.”