The Blue Spirit ღ (Zuko x OC)

Chapter ⅩⅩⅩ: Spark

The silvery caresses of moonlight made the treetops shimmer as they shivered in the brackish breeze. The shadows cast by the heavenly disc were a comfort. In the distance, the sea turned itself over, arching peacefully, trying to reach the moon, only to fall again in on itself.

The old house atop the hill, removed from the rest of the island yawned before Zuko, capturing the wind and light within it's inky walls. His hands traced a thumb over a clay-captured memory of a life long passed. He found it hard to reconcile the pieces of himself he found in pictures and hand-prints and memories. Azula's approach clipped his thoughts and he followed her to the beach.

  *✧*

It was the first time Iroh had spoken to him since they'd been back in their home country. Zuko was pressed against the bars, committing his life to hearing what his Uncle had to say, to explain why he'd been sent to tear through hidden texts for answers. Azula had slighted him by having more knowledge, and he had been ready to chalk this mission of annoyance up to his Uncle's foolishness. But his words had drawn lines of clarity for him — a revelation that he was related to Avatar Roku.

"Why're you telling me this?" Zuko demanded.

"Because understanding the struggle between your two great grandfathers, can help you better understand the battle within yourself." Iroh let the words hang in the air as his nephew caved in on himself. Zuko was drawn to memories of his mother, of her kindness and her gentle nature that juxtaposed his father. He felt a pang of regret that he'd almost forgotten how warm she'd been, and he couldn't help but wonder if it had been thanks to being the granddaughter of an avatar. His uncle continued.

"Evil and good are always at war inside you, Zuko. It is your nature. But, there is a bright side: what happened generations ago, can be resolved now . . . by you." It wasn't the intensity in Iroh's voice, but the words he'd chosen that ran Zuko's blood cold. His breath hitched as he was reminded of the tiny green sprouts inside of a burnt log, the smell of the fire, the feeling of the salt of the sea and her . . . Nala's voice clattering in his mind louder than any drum could dream to be:

". . . sometimes what is left behind can grow back better than the generation before."

"Because of your legacy, you alone can cleanse the sins of our family and the Fire Nation. Born in you, along with all the strife, is the power to restore balance to the world." Iroh turned away, letting the words echo through Zuko like a chasm, hoping to retrieve something for his nephew he'd had hidden within the walls of the cell. He presented it to him. "It's suppose to be worn by the crown Prince."

There was a long pause, silent as stars, but full to the brim with hesitation.

"I didn't know what she'd meant by that. 'What is left after fire can grow better than what came before.' But now it's too late to ask her." Zuko had finally broken the silence, letting his head fall into his hands. He felt a hand resting on his shoulder and looked up to his Uncle's kind eyes.

"I think you owe it to her to find the root of the truth for yourself."

Zuko shook Iroh's hand off. "You don't know what you're talking about." He snapped, leaping to his feet. He couldn't stand the thought of her being right . . . or the thought he'd have to accept she was gone. A voice within him fought back, telling him his uncle was right, that Nala had been trying to tell him something, fighting with the part of him that had been told his place was here, his honour was in his father's hands. "She didn't understand me either. I killed the avatar, I restored my honour . . . I was welcomed back a hero! Neither of you ever wanted that for me, you both wanted to drag me down to your level . . . and I was a fool to think either of you would stand by me . . . or that she could ever fit here. Not like Mai."