The Hardest Choice (malereader x avatar)

Chapter 8: Vision

-Rewritten October 29, 2024-

Sleep overtook Y/N before he knew it. He didn't even remember falling asleep to begin, but he was acutely aware that he had. He was dreaming, but he was conscious of that.

Y/N was surrounded by blackness, dark as an empty night sky. He couldn't see anything, not even himself, nor could he feel anything. He was in a void, nothing but a collection of thoughts hovering in a realm of nothingness. Was this death? Surely not, there was no reason he would have died. What was this?

Before he could think about it, the darkness vanished, replaced with a blinding light. Y/N instinctually shielded his eyes with an arm, then realized that he once more had a body. He breathed a sigh of relief. This, at least, was normal. As his eyes adjusted, he slowly moved his arm, allowing himself to take in his surroundings. He was in the throne room of the Fire Lord. Massive fires bellowed below him, illuminating a large crowd in the hall below. The people stared at Y/N blankly, thoughtlessly.

Y/N turned his head slightly, flicking his eyes to see what was behind him. He saw two things, but they were blurred, obscured in some way. He rubbed his eyes, but nothing changed. Suddenly, a voice rang out, impossibly loud and yet barely perceptible. It sounded both familiar and foreign, and he couldn't quite place why it sounded so familiar.

"Face them, Y/N. Turn around, fully. Take them in," the voice commanded, its tone soft and pleading, yet simultaneously harsh and demanding.

Y/N's hair stood on end and goosebumps covered his skin. He looked back to the crowd, yet they all remained impassive. He noticed some faces: Azula, Zuko, Ozai himself, Iroh, his parents, his sister, some of his classmates, generals, friends, family. The longer he looked, the more people he recognized. They were scattered throughout a crowd of strangers, but they seemed to jut out at him in some strange way.

Y/N turned back to the objects behind him, complying with the voice. His whole body rotated to face them, and he took a step forward. Immediately, the blur was lifted. In front of him, revealed in the flamelight, were two objects. The first was a throne made of twisted, ugly metal. Blood and viscera covered it. Even from this distance, Y/N could hear the drip, drip, drip of thick, dark droplets of blood. Behind it was a fire, towering above the throne. Its flames were a dark, cruel red, the same as the blood on the throne. To the right of the throne was the bust of a head, as though taken off an ancient statue made of stone. It was half the size of the throne, and looked eerily like Y/N. In its eyes burned pure white flames, and from them leaked streams of water like tears. To the left of the throne was a banner, worn and ancient. On it was written words in a script Y/N couldn't understand. When he glanced into it, however, visions of glory, of kings, of empires and peoples flashed before his eyes before leaving in an instant.

The second object was a tall mirror with a frame wrought from cracked, ancient bones. The surface was a dark, glass-like obsidian that glinted with a strange, living shimmer, as though it was liquid, trembling faintly in the glow of the firelight. Y/N struggled to breathe, his breath hitching in his throat. Finally, he took a step closer to the mirror, expecting to see his reflection. Instead, he saw a shadow, a silhouette, in front of him. He took a step back and blinked, flinching from the unexpected sight.

When he opened his eyes again, the shadow was gone. In its place was a man who looked like Y/N, but older, battle-worn, and severe, draped in ornate, bloodstained armor. His face was lined with exhaustion, as if worn by countless battles. His eyes held a dull, cruel glow, the same crimson red as the throne's flames, gleaming with a malice and callousness he'd never known. The figure was surrounded by bodies, lying prone and lifeless at his feet—enemies and allies alike. Some faces were familiar. He recognized Zuko's, marred with blood; Azula, her body limp and cold; Katara, her face contorted in harrowing agony. More than allies, they were friends, their expressions frozen in pain or betrayal. A sense of dread knotted in Y/N's stomach, and he felt like throwing up. The man spoke to Y/N, looking him in the eyes ominously. His deep, commanding voice reached Y/N's ears as he slowly raised an accusing finger towards Y/N. "You will build your throne upon bones. Those you love most will lie beneath it." Y/N closed his eyes and shook his head, desperately wishing for the vision to be gone.