Lord Zuko walked into the Fire Sages’ temple. The halls were still dark in the approaching dawn. He reached for a torch hanging on the wall to his left and, firebending it alight, used its glow to guide him down the maze of passageways. The temple was void of any Fire Sages, and the silent halls echoed ominously with the faintest of noises. Despite the shuffling of his feet, the fluttering of his robes and the crackling of the flames, his heartbeat seem to be the loudest sound in the building.

As he approached the gates of the alter, he felt sweat accumulating in the wrinkles on his forehead. The large iron gates stood almost fifteen feet high, with the Seal of the Fire Nation, made of pure gold, perched in the middle. There were two holes within the gate, one on each side of the Seal.

Zuko’s breathing was hurried, and his heart was restless. Calm yourself, Zuko! he thought. With a sigh, and then a deep breath through the nose, he shot two quick, yet powerful bursts of flames towards the gates, which he landed effortlessly into the holes in it. A loud hiss ensued, and as the noise faded, the gate began to open, split right down the center of the Seal, towards him. The creeks of the hinges echoed throughout the chambers.

He gazed into the gloomy chamber and saw three sets of eyes staring back at him from the far end of the room. He raised the torch to reveal three statues, each a representative of one of the Avatar’s lives. There stood to the extreme left, a life-size immortalization of the Fire Nation Avatar, Roku. To the right of Roku, and at the center of the chamber was the Air Nomad Avatar, Aang, and to his right was the Water Tribe Avatar, Korra.

Zuko’s heart was still pounding, but the sight of his old friend calmed him a little. He closed the gate, hung the single torch on an empty hook to its side, and walked towards the statue of Aang. “Watch over me, Avatar.” He whispered as he turned his back towards the statues and sat down on the floor, facing the gates. Legs crossed and arms folded, he closed his eyes and tried to calm himself, to empty his mind. But this was no easy task. His mind was speeding through all sorts of ideas and emotions. For a second, he doubted he’d be able to achieve what he had come here for. In spite of this mental chatter and self-doubt, he sat there trying ever so hard to be at peace.

Hours passed, the sky became lighter; Fire Sages started roaming about the temple; noon arrived and left; the moon began to shine; stars started to twinkle, but Zuko sat there, unmoving, determined to finish what he had started. He hadn’t eaten since the light breakfast he had before entering the temple.

It had been long since his heart had calmed and his breathing had evened, but still Zuko felt no change. Aware of the long hours that had passed him by, a disheartened Zuko decided it was time to go back home to his family.

As he opened his eyes, his vision did not meet with the iron gates as he had expected, rather, it befell upon a magnificent field of lilies of vibrant colors, swaying lazily in wind as the sun shone over them. He had done it. “I’m in the spirit world!”

He stood up as fast as his feeble old body would allow and began pacing through the field, unaware of where to go, but fully focused on what he wanted to find.

An assortment of beings passed him by, some large, others small. Some colorful, some drab. Many of them gazed at him in awe and respect, saying things like “It’s the great Lord Zuko!” or “Lord Zuko has graced us with this company!”, but many also shot him looks of annoyance or disgust. Zuko paid neither party any attention.

His frantic search yielded nothing, and he was soon short of breath. He decided to rest by a mighty willow at a river bank. Vines with thick leaves groped the tree at all ends, and engulfed it in a thick web of itself. The river glowed golden with the light of the sun bouncing playfully off its surface. Every now and then, a leaf would slip off the tree or the vine, and glide slowly into the river, wherefrom it would flow away out of sight.

As he sat in the shade of the tree, he let his eyes fall shut. He listened to the gentle babble of the flowing river, and felt he could just hear when a leaf landed on the water. With that picture in mind, a hum of a familiar tone found its way to his lips. Slowly the words that fit the hum began to play in his head, in the most comforting voice he could remember.

“Leaves form the vine, falling so slow.” His eyes shot open. Those words were not in his head. They were coming from behind the willow. He sprang up and looks behind the tree, but found nothing.

“Like fragile, tiny shells, drifting in the foam.” It sounded like it was across the river this time. Zuko turned to look at the other bank, but it was empty, except for a raccoon-like spirit.

“Little soldier boy, come marching home.” Far to his right this time. He ran off in the direction of the sound, finding nothing when he heard “Brave soldier boy…” back from the willow. He ran right back, and there, sitting exactly where he had been a minute ago was a bald old man dressed in emerald green robes, his silver-white beard reached down to his overlarge belly.

The old man turned to look at Zuko, and not the old man, but a ten year old kid, not a hurt or disturbed person, but a carefree child who knew how to love, and not at a scar, but at a face as smooth as marble.

“… Comes marching home!” He smiled at little Zuko.

Sprinting with new found energy, Zuko ran to the old man and, collapsing next to him, buried his face into the man’s chest.

“Uncle!” the little boy sobbed.

Wrapping the child in a warm embrace, Iroh sighed “My son.”







(I would really love and appreciate it if someone could draw out a few panels for this. Like maybe for the last few scenes. I’m a terrible artist myself)