I woke up smiling.
That alone told me everything.
Pain was gone. Resistance was gone. Instead, I felt… whole. Heavy, but stable—like my soul had finally settled into its proper shape.
I was still in the Spirit World.
But not where I had fallen.
The landscape around me was unfamiliar—vast, open, and ancient. Towering peaks stretched endlessly into the distance, their silhouettes warped by shifting light and drifting mist.
Mountains.
At least, that's what I thought at first.
I narrowed my eyes.
"…Wait," I muttered. "That mountain is moving."
Slowly. Deliberately. With the weight of eternity.
The realization hit me a second later.
That wasn't a mountain.
It was a Lion Turtle.
My smile widened.
If Vaatu was luck born of preparation, this was something else entirely.
Time meant nothing here. I walked—sometimes climbing, sometimes drifting, sometimes simply existing closer to it. Hours passed. Or days. Possibly both. The Spirit World didn't care for measurements.
Eventually, I stood before it.
Its eyes opened.
Not suddenly. Not aggressively. Just enough to acknowledge me.
You carry imbalance, the Lion Turtle rumbled, its voice resonating through the ground, the air, and my spirit all at once.
"I carry potential," I replied calmly. "Imbalance is merely the catalyst."
Silence followed.
I could feel it judging me—not my power, but my intent. No lies were possible here. So I didn't try.
"I am already bound to one half of the cycle," I continued. "But power divided is power wasted. The world does not need another Avatar shackled by tradition."
The Lion Turtle shifted slightly, the mountains themselves groaning with its movement.
Before the elements, it said slowly, we bent the energy within ourselves.
"I know," I said. "That's why I'm here."
Negotiation wasn't about dominance.
It was about inevitability.
I spoke of structure. Of balance through control rather than stagnation. Of a world where power was not inherited blindly but wielded consciously.
I did not ask.
I presented a future.
When the Lion Turtle finally moved again, it lowered its massive head until its gaze met mine.
Very well, it said. But understand this—energy bending does not grant harmony. It reveals truth.
"I can live with that," I answered.
The moment it touched me, existence exploded.
Energy flooded through my being—not violent, but overwhelming in its purity. I felt pathways open that had never existed, ancient locks disengaging one by one.
Earth.
Water.
Air.
They didn't rush in.
They recognized me.
My spirit expanded, reshaping itself to accommodate the weight of all four elements—anchored by Vaatu's darkness, stabilized by my will.
When it ended, I was on my knees.
Whole.
Complete.
And utterly exhausted.
The Spirit World began to fade.
I withdrew.
I collapsed onto cold stone.
My body hit the floor of the Southern Air Temple hard enough to knock the breath from my lungs. Every muscle screamed in protest as my spiritual awareness slammed back into flesh.
I lay there, unmoving.
Alive.
Changed.
Somewhere deep inside me, four forces stirred—waiting.
The world still slept.
But it wouldn't for much longer.