I lay sprawled across the cool metal hull of my boat, eyes half-lidded, letting the rhythm of the waves rock me into a lazy trance. The wind was gentle, the sun warm, and for once, there was a quiet stillness that didn't demand fire or fury. I could almost forget the world was at war.
That peace shattered when I noticed something on the horizon — a distant island, barely more than a shadow against the sea and sky. Normally, I wouldn't have given it more than a passing glance. But this one was different. From its center rose a thick column of steam, rising like a beacon into the clouds.
I sat up slowly, squinting. The only natural phenomena that could cause steam like that were volcanoes, but this wasn't the sluggish, rumbling kind of smoke I associated with dormant giants. No, this was hotter. Angrier. Artificial.
Then it hit me — The Boiling Rock.
The Fire Nation's highest-security prison. A volcanic fortress in the middle of nowhere. No one got out. No one snuck in. It was a floating tomb of stone and steam for traitors, criminals, and enemies of the Fire Lord. A place you only ended up if your life had gone horribly wrong… or if you were a hero trying to set someone free.
I had no reason to go there. Not yet.
Toph… my sisters… They were still out there somewhere, but not inside that cursed place — not from what I knew. Besides them, I didn't have many connections in this world. Not yet, anyway. Well… there was that one circus girl.
I swore I knew her name from all the times I'd watched Avatar: The Last Airbender in my past life. But even that memory was slipping, the details crumbling like sand through my fingers.
Too much time spent training. Too little time spent preserving the past.
I hadn't written anything down either — too risky. If someone found those notes, they'd know the future, and that kind of knowledge in the wrong hands would be devastating. So I let it fade. Faces, timelines, arcs — all of it slowly blurring at the edges. All that remained were gut instincts, fragments, impressions.
Still, spotting the Boiling Rock did give me one useful piece of information.
I was close.
Not to the prison, but to the Sun Warriors.
Their ancient temple was somewhere nearby — hidden in dense jungle and forgotten by the modern world. A place where firebending wasn't just a weapon, but a dance of breath and spirit. I wasn't about to pass up that chance.
Grinning, I stood and turned toward the direction where I remembered the Sun Warrior temple should lie. I inhaled deeply, then exhaled a steady stream of flame behind the boat. The metal hull groaned as it surged forward, the fire propelling it across the water like a comet streaking toward forgotten history.
Timeskip —
It had taken me a full day just to reach the island's shore. The dense jungles were thick with vines and steaming underbrush, and even navigating the terrain had felt like a battle. Then came the climb. Half a day spent scaling sheer cliffs, slipping over weather-worn stone and grabbing at ancient roots like lifelines, until I finally crested the last ridge and saw it.
The Sun Warrior City.
Hidden beneath a canopy of green and gold, bathed in golden sunlight, it stood untouched by time. The city was carved into the mountain's very bones, its broad streets and towering ziggurats still intact despite centuries of abandonment. The jungle had crept in, yes — moss and vines draped over walls like ceremonial garb — but the stone held firm. The firebending civilization that once thrived here had built to last.
My breath caught in my throat.
Seeing it through a screen was one thing, I thought, stepping onto a weathered street, but standing here in the flesh... it's something else entirely.
The stillness of the place felt sacred, like a whisper from the past carried on the wind. I ran a hand along a cracked mural as I passed — warriors dancing with fire, dragons curled in majestic arcs, a history written in flame.
"Hm," I murmured aloud, tracing the architecture with my eyes. "This kinda reminds me of the Eastern Air Temple… or at least the style of it. Both were built to last."
I continued walking deeper into the city, weaving between ruined courtyards and forgotten shrines — until my foot pressed down on a pressure tile.
Click.
I froze.
"…Oh, great."
Suddenly, the earth rumbled beneath me. Walls shifted. The stone beneath my feet pulled back, revealing a steep chute. I jumped back, but the ancient mechanism was faster. The floor vanished — and I was falling.
"Ah, hell!"
I twisted midair and let loose a controlled burst of fire beneath me, breaking my fall enough to land in a crouch — hard, but unbroken. The air around me filled with a mechanical groan, ancient gears awakening for the first time in centuries.
That's when the walls lit up.
Dozens of small holes in the mural carvings began glowing red — and then started launching jets of flame in rhythmic pulses. A trap corridor.
"Of course," I muttered, sprinting forward.
Flames erupted left and right as I ducked, spun, and slid. I threw a whip of fire forward to trigger a blast prematurely, then darted through the gap just before it reignited. The heat was intense — even for me — but I was grinning now.
This was a challenge.
A spiked wall suddenly dropped in front of me — I blasted it with a sharp burst of black ice, freezing the hinges. I slid beneath it before it could refreeze and collapse. More pressure plates triggered — the floor gave way to a pit of spikes. I launched two jets of fire from my hands, using them like thrusters to leap across.
The moment I touched down, the ceiling began to lower — massive stone slabs grinding downward.
"Alright," I growled. "Now you're just showing off."
I thrust both hands forward and summoned a stream of ice, slicking the floor behind me. Then I spun, summoned fire at my heels, and rocketed forward, surfing on a sheet of rapidly melting frost. The ceiling scraped my back as I slid beneath it.
I exploded out into a vast chamber, tumbling and rolling into a stop.
Silence returned.
The trap-laden corridor sealed behind me with a grinding thud.
I sat there for a moment, breathing hard, steam rising off my shoulders. Then I laughed — short, breathless.
"I'm gonna need a new shirt," I muttered, glancing at the scorched fabric clinging to my arms. Then I looked up.
The chamber was grand, circular, and untouched by time. Murals of dragons spiraled up the walls, eyes set with gemstones that still glowed faintly. In the center stood a pedestal, and beyond it, a set of doors — real doors, not booby-trapped.
"Guess I passed the entrance exam."
I rose to my feet, fire flickering faintly in my palm, and stepped forward.
The Sun Warriors had secrets. And I intended to learn them all.'
I ascended the grand stone staircase, each step worn by time yet firm beneath my boots. As I rose higher into the temple, the walls around me told a story — vivid murals of dragons twining through clouds of flame and smoke. At the top, one massive mural stood apart: two human figures knelt before enormous dragons, heads bowed, arms spread. Fire roared around them in a circle of ritualistic rhythm.
I narrowed my eyes.
"If I didn't know what this was…" I muttered, running a hand across the painted stone, "I'd think it was a sacrifice."
The Sun Warriors had made it look solemn. Reverent. And if I hadn't watched the series in my past life, I might've believed this place had claimed many lives in the name of the dragons. But this wasn't a place of death — this was a test. A dance.
The Dance of the Dragon.
I explored deeper into the ruins, following instinct and flickers of memory until I came upon the Dragon Dance chamber — a vast circular arena with a spiraling sun mosaic at its heart. Pillars circled the room, each one carved with elegant flowing fire, curling like serpents skyward.
I stepped into the center, spinning slowly in place, taking it all in.
"Okay, so how the hell am I supposed to do this?" I muttered, throwing my arms up. "I forgot one small, annoying detail…"
My voice echoed through the chamber.
"This dance needs two people. And I am very much a party of one."
Frustrated, I groaned and sat on the edge of the sun mosaic, burying my face in my hands. I'd come all this way, braved deadly traps, climbed cliffs, dodged steam vents and fire-spitting murals — and now I was stalled by choreography.
But then… something stirred.
A memory — half-formed, drifting up from the fog of my past life.
Avatar Wan.
When he first learned to master fire, he was alone. The dragons taught him… but he too had danced alone at first. The movements weren't meant for performance. They were sacred. Lessons in motion. Philosophy through form.
My breath caught in my throat.
"...Maybe I don't need another person."
I stood up slowly, heart pounding. I took my place at the edge of the mosaic.
"I really hope this works," I muttered, more to myself than anyone.
And then I began.
At first, I moved stiffly, awkwardly mimicking the motions I remembered. A wide sweeping arc of the arms, a deep crouch, a spiraling step — one motion flowed into the next. My body was sluggish, the timing off, the fire within me hesitant.
But then something changed.
I stopped trying to remember.
And instead, I let myself feel.
The dance wasn't just a sequence of moves — it was a dialogue between motion and flame. A way to speak to the fire inside, to shape it not with rage or instinct, but with understanding.
With each step, my body loosened. I began to feel how every position taught control:
A wide stance taught me grounding, rooting the flame without letting it consume.
A rising motion of the hands drew energy from the breath, teaching me to inhale power and exhale clarity.
A slow spiral taught me balance, how fire didn't just explode — it could flow like water, drift like air.
I closed my eyes, body moving in perfect rhythm now. I felt heat build along my spine, coiling and uncoiling with every breath. The fire wasn't wild. It was alive. It listened.
Each movement unlocked something deeper — not just in my body, but in my spirit. I felt the tension of old anger burn away. What remained was focus.
Will.
At the climax of the dance, I spun with my hands raised, then lowered them slowly, mimicking the descent of a dragon in flight. The fire responded to me not with a roar, but with a gentle glow — circling my hands like ribbons of golden light.
I fell to my knees in the center of the mosaic, chest rising and falling with slow, deliberate breaths.
The silence that followed felt… warm.
As if something ancient had watched. And approved.
The ground trembled beneath my feet.
A soft rumble echoed through the chamber as ancient mechanisms deep within the temple stirred for the first time in what must have been centuries. Dust sifted from the cracks in the ceiling. Then, with a grinding clunk, a hidden section of the floor split open, and a stone pedestal rose slowly from the center of the mosaic.
Sitting atop it was a jewel-shaped egg—a fiery red-orange gem that shimmered like molten glass, glowing faintly with internal light.
I took a cautious step forward… then stopped. My eye twitched.
"Oh, yeah. Because this doesn't scream cursed object," I muttered. "Real subtle."
I folded my arms and glared at it.
"I'm not touching you, you shiny little trap. I saw what happened to Zuko."
With a scoff and a shake of my head, I turned and walked briskly out of the chamber, muttering under my breath. Once I reached the edge of the temple's main courtyard, I raised both palms to the sky and let out a stream of fire, a long vertical beacon crackling into the air like a blazing flare.
I held it for thirty full seconds before cutting it off and letting the silence return.
Then I waited.
[Timeskip – Hours Later]
I was going to kill them.
Or if not kill, then at the very least hurt them very, very badly.
When I first got here, the sun had been high in the sky — noon, if not earlier. But now?
Now it was nine freaking o'clock.
At least.
The moon hung high overhead, mocking me with its slow crawl across the sky. Stars twinkled like they were in on the joke. My metal boat gleamed faintly by the shore below the mountain, and I could feel every fraying thread of my patience stretching toward its breaking point.
One thing about me: I have zero patience for being jerked around.
Not unless I knew the wait was worth it. And sure, maybe this was technically worth it — I mean, dragon wisdom, firebending enlightenment, ancient secrets and all that. But I was two seconds away from turning this entire stone city into a block of frozen death just to get someone's attention.
"I swear," I growled, pacing along the ridge of the temple path, "if these golden-robed flame fossils don't show up soon, I'm going to flash-freeze their whole ancestry."
Then finally, movement.
I paused mid-rant, squinting down the steps that led deeper into the jungle trail.
From between the shadows of the tall stone archways, a group emerged — cloaked in deep red and gold robes, their faces painted with ancient symbols. They walked with silent precision, torchlight flickering in their hands, illuminating the curled dragon tattoos on their arms.
The Sun Warriors.
I exhaled — not in relief, but in simmering annoyance — and crossed my arms.
"About time," I muttered. "Took you long enough, Indiana Flame."
One of them raised a hand in greeting. Another, an older man with a fire-painted mask, nodded solemnly — clearly trying to look ceremonial and wise.
All I could think was:
They'd better have a good reason.
And snacks.
Or someone was getting lightly impaled.
The flickering torches cast long shadows as the Sun Warriors approached. They moved in disciplined silence, each step precise, ceremonial, rehearsed — like they'd been doing this same slow walk for centuries. When they finally reached me atop the courtyard stairs, one of them stepped forward, his robes heavier and more adorned than the others. His mask was carved to resemble a dragon, but his tone? Pure smug.
"You have trespassed upon sacred ground, outsider," he said, voice echoing with theatrical self-importance. "This place is reserved for those deemed worthy. You, however… are not."
I blinked.
"Seriously?" I asked, tilting my head.
Another elder stepped forward. A woman this time, her eyes scanning me like I was some spoiled fruit at a market. "You carry neither the wisdom of the flame, nor the humility of the ancient path. You come alone, uninvited. The fire reveals arrogance in your soul."
I stared at them.
A third chimed in. "Leave now, and we shall forget your trespass. But know this — the masters do not show themselves to the unworthy."
I closed my eyes.
Breathed in.
Out.
And then?
Snap.
That was the second-to-last shred of patience I had left.
With a thunderous crack, my foot came down hard against the stone.
Instantly, the ground beneath us erupted in a shockwave of cold. Frost veined across the temple stones like spiderwebs. A heartbeat later, black ice surged outward from my position in a deadly spiral, freezing the ancient courtyard, the carved pillars, the stone torches — all of it engulfed in shimmering death. The flames in their hands hissed and died, snuffed out in seconds. Breath misted in the sudden cold. One warrior fell backward in shock.
The air turned so frigid that even the stone groaned in protest.
I stepped forward, my eyes glowing faintly with fury.
"I didn't come here for your approval," I said, voice low, but carrying the weight of a storm. "I came to learn. I came to grow."
A second step. Another crackle of ice beneath my boot.
"But if you think for a second that I'll bow and scrape for scraps of wisdom, you are gravely mistaken."
I raised one hand, and tendrils of black ice curled upward from my palm like claws.
"I want to see the dragons. Now."
The lead elder stumbled backward, mask trembling slightly. The others exchanged worried glances. Their bravado had frozen solid along with the courtyard.
One of the younger Sun Warriors, clearly shaken, took a step forward. "Y-you… you're not the Avatar. What are you?"
I didn't answer.
Instead, I let the killing intent seep from me like a cloud, oppressive and ancient. The temperature dropped even further — so low that frost formed along the edges of their robes.
The lead elder finally gave in, lifting a trembling hand in a sign of surrender.
"…Very well," he said, voice now stripped of arrogance. "The Masters will decide your worth… if you survive the trial."
I smiled — not kindly.
"Good."
The fire danced in the ceremonial bowl at the base of the steps—golden, pure, sacred. The Sun Warriors stood in silence, the one who had acted high and mighty before now avoiding my gaze entirely.
They wouldn't meet my eyes. Not after what I did to their city.
"Take the flame," one finally muttered, extending the bowl toward me with slightly trembling hands. "Begin the ascent."
But I didn't take the bowl.
Instead, I raised my hand over it, palm open.
The golden flame leapt from the bowl without hesitation, as if called by something deep within me. It didn't burn my skin. It curled into my palm like a tamed beast, willing. And then—something happened.
The Sun Warriors gasped.
The sacred flame shifted in color.
What was once gold now pulsed with dark purple, laced with veins of deep crimson and shimmering midnight. The fire danced like it was alive — or like it had remembered something long forgotten.
"This… this has never happened before," one of the elders murmured, his voice barely audible. "What kind of fire…?"
I didn't answer. I just turned toward the steps and began my ascent.
The climb was long.
Each step seemed carved from time itself — ancient and sacred.
By the time I reached the summit, night had fully settled. The stars wheeled above me like ancient eyes, watching in silence. Before me stood a great stone ring surrounded by mountain peaks — a coliseum of flame and sky.
I stepped forward, the purple fire still resting in my palm like a heartbeat.
And then the ground rumbled.
Winds howled across the peaks.
The sky itself darkened.
They came from the smoke — massive, coiling through the clouds like divine serpents. One red, one blue. Ran and Shaw, the last true firebending masters.
I fell to one knee instinctively, not out of fear, but respect. Their presence was overwhelming — ancient, commanding, and beautiful beyond words.
Their bodies curled around the circle, and for a moment I thought it would be like the show — a judgment, a test, a blaze of rainbow fire.
But then something happened that wasn't in the show.
A deep voice rumbled into the air, inside my head.
"You carry a strange fire, little one."
I blinked.
My mouth opened slightly. "You… can talk?"
"I am Ran. My brother is Shaw. And yes, we speak… when there is something worth speaking to."
Shaw's voice followed, gentler, more curious. "He bears no mark of the Avatar… and yet his soul runs deeper than any we've seen in centuries."
Ran lowered his massive head, eyes narrowing as they peered into mine. "You carry the scent of a spirit I once knew… a fox made of frost and moonlight. Cold as death, but alive like fire. He was unnatural. Eternal. And… very old. Older than any mortal. Nearly as old as Tui and La."
A chill ran down my spine.
Fox…?
My thoughts raced. Was he talking about him? About that presence I sometimes felt in my meditations — the one that whispered in silence, that offered strength in ice?
"I do not remember his name," Ran continued, curling smoke through his nose. "But he was… kin to the spirits of the Moon and Ocean. You carry their mark too. I can smell it. Faint. But it is there."
Shaw spoke next, his tone almost chiding. "Be kind, Ran. He is not the Avatar, but the fire accepts him. I wonder… could a bond with a spirit run deeper than that of the Avatar?"
I swallowed hard.
"What does that mean?" I asked.
Neither dragon answered. Instead, they arched their backs and let out twin roars — deep and ancient. Flames burst from their jaws in brilliant arcs, spiraling high into the air, twisting into a dance. The fire changed hue as it circled above me — gold, red, violet, blue, green — a rainbow of flame, pure and wild and alive.
It surrounded me — not with heat, but with life.
And for the first time… I felt it.
Truly felt it.
I had always known fire was life — that it represented energy, will, warmth, and power. But seeing it like this? Feeling it burn without destruction?
I whispered, "Fire is life… I knew that… but this…"
The colors danced in my eyes, reflected in the dark glass of my irises.
"…This makes you believe it."
The flames settled.
And with them, a thought crept unbidden into my mind. A dangerous, quiet question.
If fire could give life this beautifully…
Could that life be reversed?
I pushed the thought away.
Later.
That was a question for later.