The Si Wong Desert was exactly as unforgiving as the stories claimed.
Endless dunes stretched in every direction, the sun hanging overhead like a silent executioner. Heat distorted the horizon, turning the world into a mirage of gold and white. The air was dry enough to burn with every breath.
Getting here hadn't been easy.
It took months.
I traveled carefully, never staying in one place too long. Villages, trade routes, forests, forgotten paths—sometimes on foot, sometimes hitching rides with caravans that asked no questions. I slept beneath trees, in abandoned ruins, and once beneath the open sky during a thunderstorm that soaked me to the bone.
I avoided attention.
A child prodigy firebender was one thing.
A multi-element anomaly was another.
By the time the desert appeared on the horizon, my body was leaner, stronger, and far more efficient than when I had left the Southern Air Temple.
And it was worth every hardship.
Because somewhere beneath this sea of sand lay Wan Shi Tong's Library.
The greatest repository of knowledge in the world.
I adjusted the cloth wrapped around my face and stepped forward.
The desert was hostile in a different way than the mountains. There was no wind to lean on, no flame to dominate—only endurance and patience. I conserved my chi carefully, using minimal airbending to regulate my temperature and waterbending—still crude, but functional—to retain moisture within my body.
Days blurred together.
The sun rose.
The sun fell.
The desert tested me.
I tested it back.
I watched for signs—unnatural stone formations, shifting patterns in the sand, places where the earth seemed reluctant to move. The Sharingan helped immensely, allowing me to notice subtle inconsistencies others would miss.
Then—
There.
A ripple.
Not wind.
Not heat.
Something else.
I stopped walking.
The sand beneath my feet felt wrong—too dense, too deliberate. I knelt and pressed my palm against the ground, letting my senses extend outward.
Ancient.
Hidden.
Guarded.
A slow smile spread across my face.
"…Found you."
The Library didn't want to be discovered. It waited for the ignorant, the desperate, or the foolish. It punished haste and rewarded intent.
Fortunately for me, I had time.
And I wasn't here to steal blindly.
I was here to learn.
I straightened, eyes scanning the dunes as if daring the desert to stop me.
"Wan Shi Tong," I murmured. "He who knows ten thousand things."
The sand shifted faintly in response.
Somewhere beneath the desert, knowledge stirred.
And soon—
So would its guardian.