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Epilogue

Deep in the dungeons of a Fire Nation village prison sat an old woman. Her long silver hair hung unkempt about her weathered face, each bone of her skeletal fingers clearly visible through the wrinkled folds of her liver-spotted skin. Dark bruises emerged just visible beneath metal cuffs chaining her to the bars of her cage.

She knew the full moon hung in the sky above the prison, but there were no windows here, and the only light was that of the flickering torches along the wall, above the heads of the guards stationed below where her cage hung by chains, suspended above the ground.

"I'm thirsty," she croaked feebly. "Won't one of you nice young men get an old woman something to drink?"

One of the guards laughed. "Nice try, you old witch. We'll give you a drink—in the morning, after the sun has risen."

The old woman bent her head, as she gave a dry, hacking cough that shook her entire frame. She knelt on her knees in the cold steel prison, hanging limply from her chains. She didn't know how much longer she would live. She had survived this before—being locked in a cage, treated like an animal. But she had been young and strong then. Her old brittle bones couldn't take this treatment much longer.

Still, she had enough strength for hatred. To hate the ruffians in their black and crimson armor standing below her cage, holding her here. She had heard the guards say that the Fire Lord had fallen—that the Avatar had defeated him. She had waited to see the soldiers flee for their lives, as their nation was annihilated—however, the day never came. A new Fire Lord had taken the place of the old, the son of the previous Fire Lord, and everything was going on exactly as it had before. She was still a prisoner, and the monsters in their red and black armor who had decimated her people still walked free.

A sharp cry from down cut into her thoughts, soon followed by a dull thud, and she opened her eyes.

One of the guards was on the floor, unmoving, and the second was drawing his weapon. "Who are you?" he demanded, voice quavering slightly. "Show your face, you—"

Before he could finish, he, too, collapsed to the cold floor, his legs swept out from under him. His skull cracked against the metal, and he lay still.

The old woman squinted through the shadows.

A single figure, who had been crouched low to the ground, slowly straightened. The assailant was dressed entirely in black, with a hood and black cloth covering nose and mouth. A small figure—either a young boy or possibly a girl, though it was impossible to tell in this light.

The figure bent to one of the guards and retrieved the keys. Then, drawing back as far as the metal walkway would allow, suddenly raced at the cage like a charging mule-lion, at the last moment coiling and launching from the metal railing. The figure caught both hands on the bars and, with impossible strength and dexterity, hauled themselves to a standing position, feet finding purchase between the bars. In a moment the cage door was unlocked, and the figure slipped inside.

The old woman regarded the intruder silently, suspiciously. Come to rescue her? Or was this an assassin?

The old woman looked up into the face of the figure in black. Only the eyes were visible, but she could tell by the shape of them that the figure was a young woman. Her eyes were a light blue, the color of a pure mountain lake.

The girl bent slightly, looking the old woman in the face. The girl reached up and tugged the black material over her mouth down, revealing a startlingly pretty face beneath.

"Are you Lady Hama?" the girl asked in a low voice.

"I don't know about lady," the old woman replied, and her voice scraped and cracked with thirst and lack of use. "Who wants to know? Who might you be?"

"I am from the Southern Water Tribe," the girl said, speaking low and fast. "I heard rumors of a master waterbender imprisoned here in the Fire Nation, a master who had the power to control others under the power of the full moon."

"That would be me, girl," Hama replied.

"I have come to save you," the girl whispered. "If you will agree to come with me."

Hama didn't have to consider long. She nodded once.

In quick, efficient movements, the girl had unlocked the chains around Hama's wrists with the keys, and also those binding her feet. Hama stretched out her old arms—it felt so good to move again.

The girl, pulling the black material back up over her mouth, turned her back, bending in a crouch. She glanced back over her shoulder. "Climb on," she whispered, voice muffled by the scarf.

Hama pulled herself to her feet and shambled forward—the old legs that she had not fully used in months barely supported her weight. However, she twisted her arms in the familiar bending motion she had done a thousand times, and she felt the blood in her legs move. It was uncomfortable, painful, as bloodbending always was—but it moved her old body, and in a moment she was on the young girl's back, arms around her neck.

For a moment, Hama wondered if the girl would really be able to carry her. Though she had deteriorated during her time in prison here and was little more than skin and bone, the girl was small and slight. But, to Hama's surprise, the young girl hoisted her easily—she was stronger than she looked.

The girl leaped down from the cage in a single bound, and her feet made barely a noise on the metal as she raced down the walkway and into the corridor outside. The girl seemed to already know the way to escape, as she didn't even bother to look before she sprinted right, racing down the corridor, making no sound but for the light tamp of her feet against the metal floor and her soft, even breathing. The floor angled upward as she took another sharp turn. They were fortunate not to have run into any guards so far.

However, their luck couldn't hold out forever, and as the girl turned the last and final corner, as the metal floor gave way to stone and Hama could see the silver glow of moonlight up ahead, she saw two guards standing by what appeared to be a cave entrance, both dressed in the black and red of the Fire Nation.

"Halt!" ordered one guard, bringing his spear around. "In the name of the Fire Lord, we command you to—"

He didn't finish. The girl did not slow, and Hama, her arms now free, spread them wide before her. Both of the guards froze where they were, and then they drew back, pulling their weapons aside. As the girl passed, she spun in mid-stride, striking one on the side of the head with a free fist, and swinging her leg up with remarkable flexibility and knocking the other to the ground. The two guards lay crumpled in the entry as the girl raced into the forest, Hama reaching forward to take hold of her neck once more.

"Nicely done," Hama said.

The girl didn't answer, only continued to run.

It was hours before the girl finally slowed to a halt. Hama, though she had been doing none of the work, felt exhausted, and her old bones felt thoroughly rattled to the core. The girl let Hama slide to the grass, and Hama looked down to see they had stopped beside a stream. The flow of the water was so gentle, she could see the image of the moon reflected in its surface.

Hama drew in a deep breath, savoring the taste of the pure water on the air and the sight of the great full moon. This was a sight she had never expected to experience again.

The girl crouched down in the grass beside her. Her breathing was coming a little faster now, and as she tugged off the material covering her mouth and drew back the black hood, Hama saw beads of sweat on her temple.

Hama gazed at the girl for a moment, then, smiling, she swept her hand gently through the air.

The girl started slightly, turning to Hama, then touched her face and realized that the beads of sweat were gone. They hovered in the air for a moment before her, shimmering in the light of the moon, before Hama let them fall to the grass.

"I could use a drink," Hama said pleasantly. Then, without waiting for anything else, caressed the air with her fingers, and a globule of pure, clear water pulled itself from the stream and floated to Hama. She twisted her old, knobbly fingers, and the sphere resolved itself into a shape more like a cup. Hama put it to her lips, and sighed with satisfaction as she felt the cool liquid pass down her old, parched throat. When she was finished, she let the water fall back to the grass and wiped her mouth with a ragged sleeve. At last, she turned to the girl, who was watching her.

"So," said Hama. "You're from the Southern Water Tribe. I would guess you're not a waterbender, as you carry no flask of our tribe at your hip, and you used no waterbending back there. Not to mention all the southern waterbenders were wiped out or captured." All but one, she thought.

The girl nodded. "My brother was the waterbender. That's why he's gone and I'm still here."

Hama put a hand on the girl's arm. "Why don't you tell me your story?"

The girl nodded, though still panting slightly. She took a deep breath, then let it out again.

"My name is Amka," she whispered, still a little breathless. "My brother and I lived with the Southern Tribe, along with our parents—at least until the raiders came. Our parents both died in the battle. Our mother was a waterbender, and she chose to die fighting rather than be captured, and our father died trying to help her."

Amka seemed to have caught her breath now, and continued in a stronger, more even voice, "Of course, the Fire Nation were after the waterbenders, and so my brother ran, taking me with him—I convinced him it was the only way. Thanks to all our parents had taught us, we were able to live off the land, alone."

Amka's expression didn't change, except a slight darkening in her eyes. "However...they found us anyway. They must have been passing close to the shores in the night and seen our cooking fire. My brother forced me to hide in our ice cave, and said he would take care of it—but there were too many. I watched from the ledge of our hiding place as they struck him down."

Amka's voice remained low and steady, but Hama knew enough of hatred to detect the undercurrent in her voice.

"I did not want to live in hiding in the snow without my brother," she continued, "so I left the South Pole. I journeyed in secret for years, looking for small ways to frustrate the Fire Nation's forces. Then, I heard that the Avatar had returned, and later that he had defeated the Fire Lord. I was euphoric—I was sure that our people would soon be avenged... Before I learned the truth."

For the first time, the concealed emotion in her voice rose to the surface, and on the last words, her voice trembled ever so slightly with simmering anger. Her eyes turned to Hama. They were truly a remarkable shade of blue—so light they looked almost like crystal, and seemed to glow in the darkness. Burn.

Her voice remained low, but still shook ever so slightly as she went on. "It turned out the Avatar was friends with the new Fire Lord, and he would not do to the Fire Nation as they deserved. Now, they continue to live on, freely and happily. I had been trying to figure out what I might do—what action I might take against the nation that crushed the back of my people—when I heard rumors of you. A waterbender of the Southern Tribe, who had once rained down terror on a Fire Nation town. And I knew I had to save you, Lady Hama."

Hama shook her old head slowly. "And what can you possibly want from me, girl? It's true the Fire Nation has put me through unspeakable horrors, destroyed everything I cared for, and I'm sure I hate them as much as you do—but I'm an old woman. I can't help you lead a rebellion against the Avatar and the new Fire Lord."

Amka's face was earnest and determined. "I know that, Lady Hama. But the waterbending technique you use—it is the ultimate technique, not just of waterbending, but of all the bending elements."

Again, her light blue eyes seemed to glow in the darkness. "A technique that can take control of the enemy, even stop other benders from using their bending—please, Lady Hama. Let me take you north, to the Northern Water Tribe. The waterbenders there are still many and strong, and were not annihilated as they were in the Southern Tribe. There, we can find you disciples—other waterbenders who can learn your technique. I am sure we will find many who are equally disgusted with the Avatar's betrayal, who will not submit to this new tyrant, the new Fire Lord, and will be eager to learn any power that will allow us to fight them. With your technique, I think we can pay the Fire Nation back for everything they did to us, and more."

Hama was thoughtful, as she gazed out across the clear stream. Her eyes rose to the silver moon. "You want me," she said slowly, "to teach other waterbenders to use my technique?"

"Yes," Amka whispered, and her voice quavered with emotion.

Hama's ancient features creased in a frown. "And how do I know any of these northern waterbenders will have any interest in learning it? I have taught only one girl this power—she was shocked, horrified, and then she turned the very power that I had crafted against me. She used it to let the Fire Nation chain me up once again."

Hama gazed out across the water, into the dark trees beyond. "That was what I wanted at the time—for her to use the power, use it against me so that then she would turn it on the enemy. But now—that girl was a friend of the Avatar. So you see, I have no doubt she is now a tool of the new Fire Lord. Why should I teach anyone else? Why should I spread my power any further, if it only means they will turn it against us?"

Amka reached out and gripped Hama's old, gnarled hand. Her eyes were once again earnest, determined.

"Lady Hama, if you will only come with me, I know we will find waterbenders who feel as we do. The Fire Nation must pay for what they have done." Her light blue eyes burned. "For my brother, for my mother and father, for you—for everyone who has died or suffered under their oppression. I know we will find those eager to learn any power that will let them conquer the Fire Nation, and win back our pride as a people."

Hama was quiet for a long moment. She gazed out into the darkness once again, before her old eyes returned to the earnest young girl sitting beside her.

"Conquer," she said, a faint smile twitching at the corners of her weathered mouth. "Pride as a people. You almost sound like one of them. The ash-makers."

The girl blinked.

Hama laughed aloud, a rasping, grating sound that seemed to tear at her thin frame. "I like that," she said. "The Fire Nation should get a taste of their own medicine. Don't take this the wrong way, but I like your fire, girl. I'll come with you—and we will see if we can find any waterbenders who will learn my ultimate technique."

The girl bowed her head. "Thank you, Lady Hama," she whispered.

Hama's smile stretched wider, though it pained her old cracked lips. "How about I make you a deal. I'll come with you—if you agree not to call me Lady anymore. I'm afraid it reminds me a little too much of this place. I think Master will do."

The girl nodded obediently. "Thank you, Master Hama."

Hama waved a boney hand dismissively. "Nothing to get excited about. I want to strike back at them as much as you do. You've done me a favor. I thought I would soon pass away from this world in that prison, but you've freed me, and given me new purpose. Perhaps I will live to see the day the mighty firebenders fall after all."

The girl smiled, and though on her pale face she wore no makeup, the expression lit up her features. Her skin almost seemed to glow with new color.

"Now," said Hama. "Leave me be for a spell, won't you? I'm an old woman, and I'll need my rest before I go any further tonight. Give me thirty minutes. And then we can go to the north or anywhere else you want to go."

Amka nodded and, folding her hands together, bowed her head respectfully.

She helped Hama to a broad tree, and Hama leaned back against it, and in a moment she was fast asleep, drawing deep, rasping breaths through her mouth.

For awhile, Amka sat patiently in the grass nearby, arms resting on her knees. However, eventually she got slowly to her feet and went to the stream. Crouching down, she splashed some cold water on her face.

For a moment, she gazed down into the stream, and she could see her own reflection in the tranquil waters. Her dark hair was drawn back in a braid, her bangs pulled away from her face except for two loops, each threaded with a light blue bead, of the Southern Water Tribe style. For a moment, her face twisted in the embittered, brooding expression she had worn as she spoke to the old waterbending master. Then the look vanished, wiped away as completely as if it had never been there. Instead, the corners of her mouth turned up in the barest hint of a smile.

Though her face was in shadow, her light blue eyes like crystal seemed to glow unnaturally bright. Slowly, the girl raised a hand to her face, raising two fingers to her eyes. For just a moment, the blue glow of her eyes grew brighter—and then it flickered, like a candle flame in a light breeze. Slowly the blue light faded—leaving behind nothing but a gleaming, burning gold.

"Soon, there will be fighting again," she murmured. "There is nothing like violence to harden a leader from the inside out, and make him go to any lengths to keep control."

She laughed softly in the darkness, beneath the silver light of the full moon. "Soon, you will face a power you thought was only yours," she whispered. "A power that can't be stopped, by you or anyone else—not without sacrifice. So, what will you do then, Zuzu? What will you do then?"

…

A/N: And, on that note... [Belatedly, I realized that when I mentioned an epilogue it was probably assumed to be something about Katara, Zuko, or the gaang, so I apologize about that. Also, on Azula's eye-color manipulation at the end—since I doubted technology would be far enough advanced for eye contacts to have been invented yet, I went with this, even if I imagine it to be a scientific impossibility.]

Some final notes:

I wrote this originally just intending it to be a short standalone story—I was looking for a fairly simple idea that fit somewhat with the themes of the show, while playing off the perhaps less heroic sides of the main characters and, in Azula's case, touching a little on her thoughts regarding her change of direction between Smoke and Shadow and The Search.

This epilogue came about with the idea that it would leave some things unresolved, along with the sense that, though Zuko made a decision that we might feel was the right one in the grand scheme of things, he will eventually have to deal with the consequences of that decision.

However, I ended up getting some ideas for a sequel, and writing out the initial drafts for it. (Entitled Shadows Part 2: The Gift.) It's still quite rough, with various issues to be worked out (trying to navigate the philosophical circles of this story here ended up taking a long time to attempt to bring to some semblance of almost-sense, and the sequel has similar challenges), so I don't have a timeline yet on when I'll begin posting on it. But, you can expect that will happen at some point. Katara's story with bloodbending isn't over, and neither is Azula's—or Ursa's story with Azula, for that matter. (I'm also happy to say that the full Gaang will be playing a more prominent role this time around.)

Anyway, thank you all so much for reading. I've very much appreciated your thoughts and comments, and hope you enjoyed reading this little story, such as it is. If you have a moment, let me know what your thoughts were—as always, I'm definitely open to critiques/evaluations of my character portrayals and writing decisions, among anything else you might notice. While working on this project, I spent plenty of time evaluating my own choices and trying to pick out my inevitable blind spots, and am always interested in hearing other perspectives.

If you're still into reading Avatar fics when the sequel goes up, I hope to see you over there, but if not, thanks again for reading, and hope you have a great year!

—Rocket

Posted 10/15/18