FOREIGNER'S GOD; legend of korra

prologue

[prologue]

    The air is cold, the winter breeze bitter against his skin. He can hardly see, hardly hear a word at all. But he can see them. See their silhouettes in the distance. They stand together, just the two of them, eyes scanning, bodies ready to fight. Always ready. Always waiting.

    He calls her name, though it seems to crumble in the wind, unable to reach her ears clearly. Though, somehow, as always, she turns, as if knowing. Her eyes, green and wild, find his. Her hair had gone gray years ago. Aged from the years of life that she had lived. Her face, too, her body, aged from living and loving. From existing as she always had.

    Lian. His wife.

     She turns to him, then, fully. Opens her mouth to speak. But that is when she pauses. He knew, then, that they had arrived. But the furrow of her brows, the shift of her feet, buried in snow, told him all he needed to know.

    He turns, his attention shifting to the home in the distance. To the guards who stood outside its doors. To the little girl who lay asleep inside. To her parents, anxious and waiting, watching them. Watching as they tried to protect their daughter. As the three, mourning the loss of a friend all too soon, stood ready to protect a new one.

    "Lian!" He shouts, his voice tearing through the howling wind. Her back is to him, then, her hair whipping all around her. At her side, Sokka brandishes his sword, drawing it to his side as Lian readies her stance, arms braced.

    It is only then, when the earth splits far in the distance, that Lian breathes. The earth quakes at their feet, pulling and pushing between two powerful entities. Between Lian and Ghazan. Lava leaks through, pooling all around her figure.

    Zuko knows, then, that she is in control. That her power, alone, is stronger than the other earthbenders. That she is more dangerous than him. But he also knows that her body has changed. She is breakable now. In ways that she hadn't been only a decade prior. Though she remained powerful, strong, the years had aged her body. Tempered her bones.

    He hears the shout as it whips through the air. Sokka, Zuko realizes. Sokka is yelling, shouting, running. He is bolting towards him, eyes blown wide, battling against the snowy winds. "Zuko!" He bellows, his low voice echoing all around. "Get to the girl!"

    And he does. He turns on his heel and runs, sprints for the home. He stands guard, there, with the other members of the White Lotus, and braces for impact. He can see, just barely, the billowing of snow and fire, feel the shake of the earth as it is torn apart and broken to pieces. As it is contorted and shifted to the hands that control it.

    Sokka stumbles. Zuko can see it. He can see the shadow of a figure from behind his friend, see how something entangles around him. Around his throat. How it tugs him back, as though it is a leash. A whip.