The air around Alec was no longer just air; it was a living, breathing entity, a crushing, spinning vortex that threatened to tear him apart. Aang, wreathed in the terrifying glow of the Avatar State, had him suspended, helpless, his body contorted by the invisible force. The air blades, sharp and silent, sliced through the space around him, each one a whisper of impending doom. Alec struggled, his muscles screaming in protest, but the force was immense, unyielding.
This is it, he thought, a grim acceptance settling over him. This is how it ends. Not by Fire Nation, not by some ancient beast, but by the very Avatar I was sent to find. A bitter, ironic laugh bubbled in his throat, quickly stifled by the crushing pressure. He had to break free. He had to. Not just for himself, but for someone else who is waiting for him or so he thought.
He channeled every ounce of his remaining strength, every flicker of his firebending prowess. He focused, not on attacking, but on disrupting, on creating a counter-force. A searing heat erupted from his body, a concentrated inferno aimed at the invisible prison that held him. He pushed, he burned, he willed the air to yield. It was a battle of wills, fire against air, a desperate struggle for survival.
Slowly, agonizingly, a small pocket of breathable air began to form around him, a tiny, burning sphere within the crushing vortex. He expanded it, pushing against the invisible walls, his face contorted in a mask of intense effort. The air capsule, though still spinning violently, began to show signs of strain. He was burning a hole in the air.
With a final, guttural roar, Alec unleashed a concentrated burst of fire, creating a gap, just wide enough. He dropped, tumbling awkwardly onto the ground, his body screaming in protest, every muscle aching, every nerve ending frayed. He was exhausted, drained, but free. He gasped for air, his lungs burning, his vision swimming.
But Aang, still in the Avatar State, was relentless. He didn't let Alec relax, didn't give him a moment to recover. Another air blast, larger, more powerful, hurtled towards him. Alec, too weak to defend himself with the same intensity, knew he couldn't evade it. He closed his eyes, bracing for the impact, a desperate hope flickering in his mind that the shock might somehow break Aang out of his trance.
Then, an idea, a desperate, last-ditch effort, flashed through his mind. Water. He had bent water before, in a moment of pure instinct. Could he do some miraculous again? He extended his hands, his mind screaming for water, for protection. And just like fate was on his side, a fragile barrier of water, shimmering and translucent, materialized before him, pulled from the very moisture in the air.
The air blast struck the water barrier with a sickening thud. The fragile shield rippled violently, threatening to shatter, but it held. It didn't stop the attack entirely, but it significantly decreased its speed, its destructive force. The air blast, though weakened, still pushed through, a chilling wind that slammed into Alec, sending him skidding across the hall.
Just as the weakened blast was about to overwhelm Alec, two more barriers materialized. Katara, her face a mask of fierce determination, had conjured a powerful wall of water, reinforcing Alec's fragile shield. Sokka, not to be outdone, had launched his boomerang, a blur of wood and leather, directly at the incoming air current, disrupting its flow, scattering its remaining force.
The combined effort was enough. The air blast dissipated, harmlessly swirling around Alec. But the sight of the water, bent with such desperate intent, seemed to pierce through Aang's rage. His glowing eyes flickered, the incandescent white dimming, then fading entirely. The crushing vortex of air around him collapsed, and he dropped to the ground, his body trembling.
He looked at his hands, then at Alec, then at Katara and Sokka, his face a canvas of profound sorrow and apology. Tears streamed down his cheeks, hot against his cold skin. The weight of what he had done, the destruction he had almost wrought, crashed down upon him. He was too ashamed, too embarrassed, to even face his friends.
Without a word, Aang turned and ran. He ran from himself, from the monster he had almost become.
Alec, Katara, and Sokka chased after him, their calls echoing through the desolate halls of the temple. "Aang! Wait!" But he was too fast, too familiar with the labyrinthine passages of his former home. They lost him quickly, his small figure disappearing around a corner, leaving them alone in the echoing silence.
Katara, her heart aching, began to search, her voice filled with a desperate plea. "Aang! Please, come back! We're here for you!" She moved through the temple, her calls growing more frantic with each empty chamber.
Alec halted abruptly against a crumbling pillar, its weathered stone biting into his back as tremors coursed through his battered frame. Every muscle screamed from the ordeal—the crushing vortex, the searing effort of fire against air—yet beneath the exhaustion burned a deeper fire: raw, seething fury at Aang. The Avatar's uncontrolled assault had nearly claimed his life. Words of accusation clawed at his throat, demanding release, but he swallowed them down, jaw clenched tight as iron. No good would come of lashing out now, not when fragile alliances hung by threads.
Katara caught that lightning-quick glare, her own eyes narrowing in sharp recognition, though she held her tongue.
Aang needed distance, yes—breathing room to untangle the genocide's fresh horror from his guilt's venomous spiral. Solitude, however, would poison the process, festering grief into madness, weaving shadows where clarity might dawn. Alec understood this on some bone-deep level, had witnessed trauma's cruel alchemy too many times across battlefields and broken lives.
"Katara," he barked, voice emerging as tempered steel that sliced through her frantic cries echoing down the forsaken hall. "Give him space."
She whirled, azure eyes blazing with defiance, fists balled at her sides. "Space? Alec, he just lost everything! His people, his home—everything! He needs us, not—"
"Lost? So did I." Alec rebuked. No softening followed, no patient counsel or gentle wisdom. Fury's tide crested within him, hot and inexorable. Without another syllable, without the courtesy of explanation, he shoved off the pillar and stormed into the shadowed corridor. His silhouette swallowed by gloom, leaving Katara's protests to fracture and fade in the hollow, dust-choked air.
Katara knew Alec was right in his situation she can't leave everything like this. She had seen the raw, unadulterated grief in Aang's eyes, the profound shame. His actions, though terrifying, were understandable. She sighed, her shoulders slumping in defeat. "Alright," she conceded, her voice barely a whisper. "But I'm still going to look for him. I can't just leave him."
She then turned to Sokka, her expression firm. "Sokka, go calm Alec down. He looks like he's about to collapse again."
Sokka, who had been quietly observing the exchange, pointed a finger at himself, his face a picture of comical bewilderment. "Me? Calm Alec down? Are you sure you're talking about me, Katara ? The guy who almost fell off a cliff because of Aang?"
Katara glared at him, a silent command in her eyes. Sokka sighed, muttering under his breath. "When will these people grow up?" He looked up at the vast, empty sky, then back at the crumbling temple, a profound sense of exasperation washing over him.
He walked over to Alec, who was still leaning against the pillar, his eyes closed, his breathing shallow. "Hey, Alec," Sokka began, his voice surprisingly gentle. "You alright? You really pushed yourself back there."
Alec opened his eyes, a faint smile touching his lips. "I'll be fine, Sokka. Just... a lot to process."
Sokka nodded, a rare moment of understanding passing between them. "Yeah. Tell me about it. This whole Avatar thing is way more complicated than I thought."