A/N: So I've never done a time-travel fic before, and I thought it would be fun. Whilst having such thoughts, my television was coincidentally tuned to A:tLA, and the Ember Island Players was on. And this weird little brain-fart is the product. It's set a decade after the official end of the Great War, and Zuko gets sent back in time to just before he got his scar. So...read on, I suppose.

Disclaimer: Who told you I owned the rights to Avatar: the Last Airbender? I need to go beat some ass...

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Chapter 1: Let's do the Time Warp Again!

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Firelord Zuko was having a rather strange day. No, calling it 'strange' gave it a solemn aspect that it certainly didn't have. 'Bizarre' would come much closer to the reality of this particular day.

As it was the tenth anniversary of the official end to the Hundred Years' War, the weeks leading up to said day had been filled with frantic planning, arrivals of old friends, and beneath it all, insane amounts of stress for the Firelord.

The highest office in the Fire Nation had certainly changed Zuko in many ways. He was definitely more confident in himself, having to deal with corrupt nobles and angry Earth Kindgom generals on a practically daily basis. He had recently attained the esteemed rank of High Master Firebender, and was well on his way to achieving the vaunted title 'Grand Master,' under the tutelage of his uncle and the dragons. He'd also managed to grow himself a respectable beard, of which he was very proud.

But thankfully, his position had not changed the core of his being. He was still the stalwart defender of what he believed was right, the prideful son of Ozai and Ursa, and (as Katara would say) the same dorky fire prince who snorted hilariously when tickled on his ribs.

Regardless, this day had started off as one would expect when so many people were staying in the Imperial Palace.

Zuko had found himself awoken by strange rumblings. Normally, this would alarm him greatly, but with a Grand Master Earthbender, Queen Toph Bei Fong of Omashu nearby, he allowed himself to doze back off for a few minutes It was still a ways until dawn, anyway. His first mistake.

Not five seconds after he'd made this decision than his entire bed was catapulted up into the high ceiling above him. Needless to say, Firelord Zuko was very much awake after that.

"Up and at 'em, Firecrotch Sparky!" Zuko held back his groan, though he wasn't sure if it was exasperation at his friend's antics or pain from the arrow-sized splinter of teaoak digging into his calf that elicited it.

"There are better ways to wake someone up, Toph," he said, dislodging himself from the wreckage of his bed, then glancing forlornly at the mess; he'd really liked that bed, too. It was just a good thing that he hadn't had one of his lady friends over that night.

"Yeah, but none of them are nearly as funny," came the sarcastic response. Dusting himself off, he got his first good look at his old friend in nearly three years. Time had certainly been good to Toph, though anyone would be loathe to admit it to her face. After the first few bards had tried gaining favor by singing songs of her incredible beauty and pale, porcelain features...well, let's just say nobody else wanted to be buried up to their necks in front of the Bei Fong estate for two days.

Despite himself, Zuko smiled. "It's good to see you, Queen Bei Fong," he said, bowing formally.

"I'd say the same thing, but-"

"Yes, yes, you can't see," Zuko finished. "You're gonna have to come up with some better blind jokes now that all the good ones have been recycled several times over."

Toph grinned and darted toward Zuko, fist first. He could've easily dodged, but as this was Toph's way of saying hello, he simply braced himself and took the punch to the shoulder with as much grace as he could muster.

"Hurry up and get dressed, Hotman," Toph said, leaving Zuko rubbing his arm and walking out the ruined doors of the royal suite. "Everyone's waiting for you."

After hurriedly throwing on some light robes, leaving his shaggy mop of hair down, Zuko found Toph waiting in the hallway.

"So, I was kinda hoping to break a few of Gloomy's nails this morning as well as startle the hell out of you," Toph began as they made their way through the labyrinthine hallways of the palace. "Where's she at this morning?"

Zuko was surprised. "You haven't heard?" Toph shook her head. "Mai and I...er, we broke up almost two years ago. I thought everyone would've heard by now."

"I've been too busy with queenly duties," Toph said with a grimace. "I'm sure you know how that is, Firecrotch."

Zuko nodded in understanding. He was getting daily reports from the capital of the neutral zone, Republic City. Everything was as expected, i.e. horribly chaotic and crazier than a saber-toothed mooselion on cactus juice, and that was just piled onto his already daunting problems running a nation.

"Why'd you two split? Your guys' negativity sorta canceled each other's out, seemed to be working pretty well." She said this nonchalantly, but having known the woman for over a decade, Zuko could tell that she was pleased with these events.

Zuko shrugged uncomfortably. "Mai didn't like having to be put on the back-burner in the early years of my reign. There was a lot of stuff to do, and I didn't have time for that and her. I tried, believe me I did, but...well, I guess it wasn't enough for her. She's still my best counter-espionage agent, though. She's getting married to some noble in a few months."

"Tough luck, Sparky," replied Toph, though the sympathy levels in her voice were dangerously low. "You could do much better anyway."

"Thanks, Toph."

Eventually, they made their way to the grand reception hall, where the rest of the old Gaang were waiting.

"Zuko, my man!" Sokka exclaimed, rushing over to give his bestie a proper South Pole hug. Chief Sokka of the Southern Water Tribe had grown just as much as Zuko, and it appeared he was trying to grow a beard as well, though all that seemed to be growing were rough, spotty patches on his cheeks. And neck

"Hey, Sokka," Zuko replied after being released from the warrior's embrace. He took his turns hugging Suki, then Aang, then Katara. "How are all of you?"

"We're good, Dorklord," Sokka answered for the group. Zuko had long-since stopped trying to get Sokka to stop calling him this; at least he didn't do it in public, and it was better than 'Sifu Hotman' at any rate. "So, are you ready for all the speeches and parties tonight?"

"I've been practicing since last year's celebrations," Zuko answered. "One can never be too prepared."

"How many lists this time?" Katara asked in amusement. She knew more than anyone Zuko enjoyed bringing a bit of order into his life by creating dozens of lists.

Zuko wrapped his dignity around him like a well-worn robe as he replied, "Only twenty-two. And most of those were actually supply lists for the servants who are setting up the celebrations and ceremonies."

The next few hours were spent catching up and reminiscing about the 'good old days,' until Zuko was called away to deal with an urgent situation in one of the kitchens. The 'urgent situation' turned out to be Iroh darting around like a hyperactive hummingbear with a frantic look in his wizened eyes.

"Zuko, this is a disaster!"

"What is, Uncle?" Zuko asked, trying not to give himself over to the panic slowly rising in his chest.

"None of your kitchens have any ginseng tea in stock!" Iroh lamented, pulling open a cabinet he'd just checked a minute prior. Zuko resisted the urge to palm his face in exasperation.

"Uncle," he said with deceptive calm. "I've got all the ginseng tea in my study. There is no need to act like the insane old-timer you are."

Instead of becoming indignant, as a normal person would, Iroh simply breathed a sigh of unfathomable relief. "That is good my nephew. I see that you are finally taking my advice about tea to heart. I am glad that you keep a stock of ginseng near your work place at all times. I also noticed that you do not have any chamomile in the kitchens."

"That's because it's all in the private kitchens attached to my quarters, Uncle," Zuko said with a reluctant smile. "You always told me that it was good for calming an unrestful mind." At this, Iroh beamed.

"This reminds me, Firelord Nephew," he said, using the odd little term of endearment that had developed over the years. He reached into a small pouch hanging from his belt and withdrew a bay leaf folded in upon itself. Unwrapping it, Iroh pressed the bundle of small, pale green leaves shot with purple into Zuko's face.

Unconsciously, he inhaled, and instantly recoiled from the musky, heavily cloying scent that the small buds exuded. "What is that, Uncle?" he gasped.

"These are the flowers of a most interesting plant," Iroh explained, plucking a small bundle from the pile and crumbling it up, releasing more of the potent scent into the air. Zuko breathed it in again, and the second time was much less shocking. In fact, it smelled...not pleasant, but not unpleasant either.

"Why is it so interesting?" Zuko asked, curious about the plant with such a powerful smell.

"When one steeps the flowers in boiling water, it creates an intense calming effect within the drinker," Iroh said conspiratorially, glancing around to add to the air of secrecy. "It can also be smoked, like tobacco or cardus, but the calmness falls upon the smoker more quickly than if it had been imbibed through food or drink."

"I...see," Zuko said. A calm more powerful than that of the chamomile tea he usually drank would be extremely useful in his insanely stressful occupation as Firelord. "Does this miracle plant have a name?"

"It has many slang names in the Earth Kingdom," said Iroh, "but it is universally known as cannabis."

"Cannabis," Zuko parrotmonkeyed thoughtfully. "Uncle, would you be so kind as to brew me a pot of this tea so that I may relax later on in the evening? I still have much paperwork to do, and I'll probably need some calming tea after this session."

"Ah, perhaps over a friendly game of pai-sho?" Iroh asked hopefully. Zuko simply smiled and nodded. During his initiation into the Order of the White Lotus, his uncle had offered Zuko the chance to learn the subtle arts of pai-sho. To everyone's (including Zuko's) surprise, he had a natural talent for the game, and he and his uncle spent hours playing the game as equals of skill and wit (though Iroh would usually win, unless Zuko used extremely unorthodox methods).

The rest of the day was spent in a flurry of paperwork, meetings with irritating cabbage merchants, reminiscing with friends, and playing pai-sho with his uncle. The tea Iroh had made was definitively stronger than any chamomile blend Zuko had ever tried in his life, and made him rather giggly and stupid. Needless to say, Iroh won all seven of the games they'd played that night.

In the evening, after bidding his friends and family a pleasant night, Zuko began to head off to the Firelord's personal chambers. Somehow, on the trip to his bed chambers, Zuko got somewhat turned around, which was odd, considering he'd been walking these halls for years and knew the ways backward and forward. Glancing around, he noticed that he was near the Dragonbone Catacombs.

This tea is something else, he thought idly to himself while simultaneously coming to the conclusion that a trip down to the catacombs was an exceedingly wonderful idea. After using his firebending to gain entrance to the steep, winding staircase, he lit the way with a handful of flames. He made his way to the portal where he'd found the final testament of his grandfather, Firelord Sozin, all those years ago, and stopped.

His chi had been acting strangely ever since his first sip of that cannabis tea, and in that particular moment of time, he felt the energy within his body give a sharp tug toward a small alcove in the far corner of the underground chamber. In his peaceful state, he decided that there was no harm in at least checking out the feeling.

Just to be safe, Zuko fed the flame in his hand to make it bigger, and held it out before him as he headed steadily toward the cloister. Upon closer inspection, he pertained hundreds of strange glyphs and runes chiseled into the marble, characters of a language he had no knowledge of.

"What in Agni's name...?" he wondered aloud, leaning in so as to better discern the bold, sweeping markings. Slightly overbalanced, and with the tea inhibiting his natural grace, Zuko nearly tumbled over, but caught himself by bracing his fiery hand on the wall.

No sooner had he done so than the flame seeped from his hand into the wall, causing the characters to glow brightly. Dazzled by the incredible sight, Zuko didn't even notice as his body began to disappear until the solidity of his arms started to ebb away. He watched on in mild curiosity when his fingers turned translucent before vanishing right before his eyes, and it was only as his head (the only part of him still visible) was pulled apart did he begin to panic.

But it was far too late for that. In mere seconds, the person known as Firelord Zuko the Honorable had been expunged from this particular timeline and sent hurtling at incomprehensible speeds backward, a particle at a time, to a place where only the Spirits knew of.

Meanwhile, deep in the heart of the Spirit World, an elderly woman wearing a robe that seemed to be made of the very night sky, glittering with stars set upon a field of black so dark that it seemed to suck in the light around it, straightened from her hunched position over a white stone basin. Her hair was pure white, a scant few shades lighter than her pale skin and colorless irises.

"And so it is done, Agni," she said, directing her speech to another female spirit who wore the guise of a teenaged girl with flowing red hair and eyes the color of molten gold. Her robes seemed to be woven of fire, and her bronze skin gleamed with an ethereal glow.

"Thank you, Kala," Agni responded, nodding gratefully to the Spirit of Time. Kala, the elderly woman, slumped down onto the obsidian throne behind her, panting slightly. "Are you well, dear friend?"

Kala chuckled breathlessly and gave a dismissive wave of her vein-riddled hand. "Worry not, child," she said. "Sending a human's soul back in time is quite the drain, even for an elder like myself. I would like to ask again, why this particular human? He is rather handsome, but I have seen better. And, while he is an incredible bender of your element, he is far from the best. Why, this one's uncle can bend circles around him normally."

"Yes, that is true," Agni conceded, looking down at the basin and into the face of Firelord Zuko. "But this human is different. Despite the fact that he helped win the Hundred-Years' War, the other nations will always hold resentment towards Fire, and he is just the man who will be able to bring true balance to the world."

"If you say so," Kala muttered. "I doubt that Rudra will be too pleased with this turn of events, however." She shuddered as the name of the Spirit of Fate slipped from her ancient lips.

"I have already spoken with her," Agni assured Kala. "Rudra is very much in favor of my plan. It seems as though poor Zuzu is so clumsy that he accidentally tripped over his feet and fell off of the path of his own fate. This way, Rudra's vision for the boy will come to pass properly."

Kala laughed, and glanced down once more to the scarred face of the Firelord. "I hope he doesn't bungle up your plans for him, Agni," she said.

Agni sighed, and whispered, "As do I..."

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Zuko regained awareness with incredible suddenness. It was quite disorienting, and it took him a moment to realize that the roaring sound in his ears was the caterwauling of a large crowd around him. He felt a heavy cloak around his shoulders, and realized that his upper body was laid bare. Glancing down, he noticed that most of his muscle mass had disappeared somewhere, and his respectable beard was nowhere to be found.

Before he could begin wondering what was going on, he heard a loud voice shout, "BEGIN!"

He rose and turned in a single fluid motion almost on autopilot, and the cloak fell swirling to his feet. His eyes widened when they settled upon the most unwelcome sight he'd ever beheld: Ozai, former Firelord and his biological father, was standing in a firebending form on a platform across from him, his cruel face pulled into a smirk.

A thought occurred to him suddenly: his eyes had widened! Not just the good one, but both of them. He raised a hand to the left side of his face and felt nothing but pristine, unblemished skin, and it all fell into place with startling clarity. Somehow, someway, Zuko been transported back in time, to the day his life changed forever.

Zuko's legs felt weak, but his stood his ground, unable to do anything else. Ozai seemed impatient to begin, and instantly sent a heavy stream of flames toward his son. Things have already changed, Zuko thought to himself as he gathered fire in his hands and disrupted Ozai's attack with a vertical scythe of fire that cut through the larger blast. I had already refused to fight him, so he didn't have to actually attack me. With no small amount of anger, he realized that his younger self would not have been able to stop, or even dodge, that attack.

But he was not his younger self.

Ozai seemed surprised that his weakest child had blocked the flame so easily, but hardened his features instantly and sent several attacks from high and low angles, deciding to test his son's newfound prowess at bending.

Zuko more or less knew his father's fighting style, having watched him teaching Azula countless times as a child. He, like Azula, favored long-ranged firebending, utilizing heavy streams and quick blasts from afar to overwhelm their opponents. But having learned from Iroh while picking up quite a few tricks from his friends with different bending, Zuko had created a firebending style entirely unique to himself.

So he ducked under the first high fire blast and dive-rolled over the low-sweeping scythe, pushing off with his hands midway through and propelling himself through a gap between two more flares and kicking out, sending two identical fireballs from his heels.

Ozai was forced to cease his offensive to dodge the two strikes, and when he looked back, he saw Zuko racing toward him, a steely glint in his golden eyes that bore nothing but a deep hatred. Ozai had to admit, he never thought that the weak-minded boy had it in him. Nevertheless, he would fall before the day was done.

He allowed his son to close in a bit more before sweeping his arms forward and clapping his hands together, creating a maelstrom of flame that engulfed the boy. Or at least it was supposed to. Instead, Zuko flew through the conflagration wreathed in a cloak of his own fire, protecting him from the heat of his father's attack.

Zuko landed on his hands and performed an almost dance-like swivel kick that created wide, arcing blasts of flame that blazed toward Ozai. The Firelord was forced to create rocket jets from his feet to propel him into the air in order to dodge the unorthodox move, and as gravity took hold of him once more, he pulled his fist back, slamming it into the ground as he landed and causing an inferno to erupt around him. Zuko was sent flying backwards by the concussive force of the blast, but he recovered quickly in mid-air and hit the ground already running back toward his father.

He briefly wondered why the flames had ceased, but continued running forward. It felt awkward, forcing his young body to do things that it technically had never done before. He'd nearly stumbled on the dismount of that first double fire-blast, and he could feel his chi waning with troubling rapidity.

Before he could formulate a plan to compensate for these shortcomings, he spotted his father swinging his arms upward in vast, sweeping arcs. Discharge sparked from his hands, and Zuko watched in slow motion as Ozai thrust his left hand forward, fingers splayed and palm out, and lightning crashed forth in an unstable bolt of pure energy.

Zuko was in mid-step, and couldn't properly get into the right form for redirecting it. He managed to absorb the stream with one arm, and forced as much of it as he could down into his belly, releasing the excess into the sky. But because he was unable to send the entirety of the electricity into his sea of chi, a good portion of it flew into his heart.

The crowd who had come to attend the Agni Kai were stunned into silence. Most had believed it was impossible to manipulate lightning once it had been unleashed. But they had just borne witness to the young Prince Zuko as he seemed to take the lightning into his very body before sending it off into the atmosphere.

Iroh himself was astounded by this turn of events. He had long ago developed that technique for redirecting lightning, but he was sure that he had never taught that technique to anyone, much less his twelve-year-old nephew. But Zuko hadn't been in the correct stance to do it, and though he had managed to redirect the majority of the lightning, he could tell by the way Zuko slumped down to his knees, clutching his chest in obvious pain, that some of it had entered his heart.

The old general's gaze flicked to his niece who had previously been watching her father and brother do battle with an expression of utter excitement and surprise. Now, however, Princess Azula's face had become a rictus of worry and horror. Though she had not been able to create lightning yet, she knew the devastating effects the energy had on a human, and she was still not yet under Ozai's indsidious control enough that she couldn't feel concern for her elder brother.

In the stadium, one could have heard a pin drop as Ozai, panting slightly, strode up to the kneeling form of his son. Zuko had put up a fight that pushed the Firelord to extremes he had not felt since the Agni Kai he had fought against Iroh many years ago. If Zuko'd had the sense to shoot the lightning toward him, no doubt he would not have been the victor.

But Ozai smiled a cruel, evil smile down at the boy. His cold voice rang through the silent stadium for all to hear. "Your mercy was your undoing, Prince Zuko. Now you will learn respect," he sneered, "and suffering shall be your teacher."

With one hand, he grabbed his son's neck and raised his face, feeling a bit of amusement at the rather impressive struggle the boy had put up. The look of fierce defiance engraved in Zuko's expression when their eyes met quickly transfigured that amusement into mindless, irrational rage, and his other hand drew around, palm resting upon the left side of the Prince's face.

The roar of the flames was deafening to all who bore witness to the heinous act.

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The gentle rocking awoke Zuko to the scents of chamomile tea and sugar biscuits. He slowly opened his eyes and quickly noticed that his left eye was wrapped up in bandages. So it wasn't a dream, he thought sadly. I'm back at the beginning.

Turning his head to the right, he spotted his uncle staring forlornly at a cup of tea. Beyond that, he saw the large Fire Nation pennant hanging from the steel walls, and he belatedly realized that he was on the ancient steamer Iroh had managed to procure for them the first time he had been banished.

He was vaguely aware of his uncle humming a melancholy tune that he recognized as Little Soldier Boy, an old song he remembered Iroh singing to him as a child, before Lu Ten was killed in the Siege of Ba Sing Se. Uncle Iroh, who had been with him for the entire time he had been banished, and long afterwards.

Zuko felt a prickling in his good eye and had to fight back to tears desperately trying to fall. Instead, he focused on the dull throbbing of the skin around his new scar. The dead tissue itself held no pain, or any sensation for that matter; his nerve endings had been entirely destroyed by the intense heat his father had used to mark him.

The first time it had happened, he wasn't savvy enough in the ways of bending fire to notice, but in the last brief seconds he could remember, Zuko realized that Ozai had used white fire, second hottest only to blue flame, and much more painful. At that thought, Zuko's hands unconsciously closed into fists. Iroh's humming ceased, and Zuko sensed him shift in his seat.

"Prince Zuko," he murmured softly. "Are you awake?"

Zuko briefly considered simply pretending to still be asleep, but he discarded the notion and sat up slowly. "Yes, Uncle, I am." He was very startled at how young his voice sounded, and had to remind himself that it would break and begin to deepen in a few months.

"You must rest, Nephew," Iroh said quietly, resting a hand gingerly on his chest and applying pressure. Zuko gasped; at his uncle's touch, a flame bloomed within his upper torso that hadn't been there before, and Iroh quickly withdrew his hand. "You have been gravely injured, and you need all the recuperative sleep you can get."

The lightning, he realized. I wasn't able to redirect all of it.

"Zuko," Iroh said, and the young Prince turned his head so that he could see Iroh with his good eye. "I do not know how to tell you this, my Nephew, but-"

"He banished me, didn't he?" Zuko interrupted through clenched teeth. "As well as the rest of the crew on this boat."

Iroh gave him a long, thoughtful look before replying. "How did you know that we were on a boat, Prince Zuko?"

Once again, Zuko thought about deceiving Iroh, but he knew that this man would stick by him through literally anything. Hells, he might even know what was going on with the whole time-traveling thing. But he felt that maybe he might have a bit of fun with the old fogey first.

"Well, I can feel the boat rocking, Uncle," Zuko replied dryly. "But even if it wasn't, I know this steam ship inside and out. I know all the crew members, and I know that you went into voluntary exile to stay by my side, which I am eternally grateful for."

Iroh's eyes narrowed in speculation. "I assume that you are about to inform me how you came by all this knowledge?"

"You once told me that when you assume, you make an ass out of 'u' and me," Zuko said with a small smile. He watched as Iroh wracked his brain, trying to recall ever giving his nephew that particular nugget of wisdom, and when he came up short, Zuko continued. "You told me this two years from now, when I 'assumed' that an Earth Kingdom girl would heal a cut I received simply because of my royal heritage."

"Two years from now?" Iroh muttered, almost to himself. "But then-" His eyes widened as he turned back to his nephew. "You have traveled through time?"

Zuko nodded. "I don't understand how it happened, but here I am, back in my thirteen-year-old body, with my thirteen-year-old chi reserves." He scowled. "That's the only reason I couldn't blast that flaming bastard into ash."

"Language, Prince Zuko," Iroh chided, then smiled sheepishly. "Sorry, force of habit." Then he became serious once more. "How far back?"

Zuko did a bit of mental math before answering. "Fourteen years, I think. Though I was wondering if you knew why exactly I was sent back." He glanced at his uncle hopefully.

"Perhaps the spirits have a different design for you," Iroh speculated. "Though I know of only two spirits old enough and powerful enough to be able to do this without the consent of the others: Kala, Spirit of Time, and Rudra, Spirit of Fate. And if the two of them have worked together to change something, then the future must have gone terribly wrong."

The banished prince frowned. "It seemed to be going rather well to me," he grumbled. "We had won, Ozai had lost his bending, and I had been Firelord for ten years. Then you and I drank some tea, and on the way to my bed chambers, I wound up in the Dragonbone Catacombs, and somehow activated a series of indecipherable runes. The next thing I know, I'm fighting an Agni Kai with my father that I'd already lost over a decade ago."

"What kind of tea was it?" Iroh asked curiously.

"Something called cannabis," Zuko answered in exasperation. Of course, Uncle would ask a question about tea when presented with an incredible tale of time travel. "You brought it back from the Earth Kingdom, saying that you'd just recently discovered it."

"I know of no such plant," Iroh said contemplatively. "It may be a species of vegetation cultivated only in a certain area of the Earth Kingdom, or..." he mumbled something incoherently, then said, "It might also be a device of the Spirit World to take you to that particular area in order to send you back. The Elder Spirits all swore an oath to never directly interfere with this world, and so resort to roundabout methods instead."

"Meddling spirits," Zuko grumbled. Then he sighed and looked up at his uncle. "So, what should we do now?"

Iroh tapped his chin thoughtfully. "Well, if I were sent back in time, I would change as much as I could for the better and hope that things pan out like I planned them to," he said eventually. "As well as hook up with that delightful Earthbending woman in Cheng Xu..."

"Uncle!" Zuko exclaimed in horror. "I didn't need to hear that!"

A/N: And there you have the first chapter! Kala and Rudra are part of the pantheon of Hindu gods, the same place Agni is from; I figured, might as well, y'know? Anyway, Zuko will be actively trying to change basically everything he can and hang the consequenses. This will come back and bite him squarely in the ass. So...yeah. Review, please! I crave positive feedback. I crave it like a vampire craves a crack-head's blood!