ATLA: Azlua

Rebellion Part Ten

Aftermath

The cries of the injured and mourning civilians echoed through the plaza, but Mai barely registered them. The rhythm of her heartbeat drowned everything out, pounding in her ears like the distant drum of war. Each step felt heavier than the last as she limped to a piece of flat stone, finally collapsing onto it. She rested her head against the hilt of her sword, her breaths coming out in ragged, uneven gasps.

The sound of her own breath disgusted her, as did the sight of the blood pooling from a nearby body, soaking into her shoe. She tried to lift her foot but found it too heavy, too unresponsive. Her mind went blank, the exhaustion crashing over her like a tidal wave, pulling her into a daze.

She didn't know how long she sat there, staring into the aftermath of the battle without seeing it. Somewhere in the distance, she thought she heard her name. It was faint at first, easy to ignore. Then it came again, louder. She flinched inwardly, her heart wanting nothing more than to be left alone. The voice called again, this time like a shout right in front of her.

Mai blinked slowly, raising her eyes, and was surprised to see Asha standing there. Her face was streaked with dirt, her eyes red from tears.

"So you lived, huh," Mai muttered, her voice sounding more apathetic than she'd intended. She saw Asha flinch at the coldness in her tone, but she was too tired to care, too tired to offer any warmth.

Before she could say anything else, Asha rushed forward and wrapped her arms around Mai in a desperate embrace. She was sobbing, her words choked and incoherent, the overwhelming emotion pouring out of her.

Mai sat stiffly, staring over Asha's shoulder at the carnage around them. The bodies, the broken walls, the blood-soaked streets. She barely moved, letting Asha cry against her. Her eyes wandered aimlessly, taking in the battlefield, the faces of the fallen, and the faint flickers of fire in the distance.

---

Later that night, the atmosphere had shifted, the raw energy of battle replaced by the solemnity of mourning.

The plaza, now cleared of the dead and injured, had become a place of quiet preparation for the funeral rites. Torches lined the edges of the square, casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. Mai watched silently as rebels and civilians alike gathered, preparing pyres for the fallen. The night was cold, the kind of cold that seeped into your bones, a harsh reminder of the losses they had suffered.

Mai stood near the edge of the square, her body aching with every movement, but her mind sharper now than it had been. She had washed the blood from her hands and changed into the spare set of clothes the rebels had found for her. But even as she felt more herself physically, the numbness clung to her heart.

Asha was nearby, helping light the fires for the funeral rites. The warmth of the flames reflected in her tear-streaked face, and though she tried to keep herself composed, Mai could see the weight of the day pressing down on her. Mai herself walked next to Commander Shin, her limbs heavy with exhaustion.

"How are our losses?" she asked, the fatigue clinging to every word.

Shin's expression was neutral as always, though his voice carried a touch of gravity. "None," he replied. "The Yuyan specialize in long-distance fighting—they were never in the thick of it."

"Lucky for them," Mai muttered, a faint hint of annoyance creeping into her tone. Her muscles still ached from the battle, the strain of every misstep and missed strike haunting her.

After a moment, Shin posed a question. "Why do you try so hard for them? Your fighting style isn't suited for close combat, yet you've been behaving out of character lately."