A Search within the Force and Flame

XV

The forest air was heavy with spirit energy, old and knowing, like it had seen a thousand truths and a thousand more lies. Ancient roots coiled beneath their feet like living veins, and the towering spirit before them radiated a gentle, golden light. Her bark-like form shimmered in the filtered canopy glow, and floating, silent faces orbited around her—visages of forgotten lives, drifting like memories in still water.

Logan stood near Azula, one pace behind and to the left. His lightsaber was clipped loosely at his side, blaster holstered but within easy reach. To an outsider, he looked calm. Focused. But inside, every breath he took was measured—controlled. The Force whispered to him in pulses and flares, each one louder than the last. Azula's presence beside him was a pressure on the edge of his awareness—taut, volatile, waiting.

"I am the Mother of Faces," the spirit said, her voice like wind through ancient boughs. "Through me, separateness came into the world. Through me came identity. The One became the many."

Her form shifted like the turning of seasons. "I walk through my forest once a season, and never have I strayed from the path my world chooses for me. I do so now in deference to the Avatar—the bridge between spirits and humans."

Aang blinked and leaned toward Sokka. "See? What'd I tell ya?"

"All right, all right," Sokka muttered back. "You're the bridge guy. Loud and clear."

"I am a generous spirit," she continued. "Softhearted and kind."

Logan didn't react. His eyes never left the spirit, but in his peripheral vision, he watched Azula. Her posture was too still. Her hands, clenched at her sides, trembled with suppressed emotion. The Force rolled off her in hot, erratic waves. Not yet. But soon.

Zuko stepped forward. "Maybe she knows where my mother is..."

Aang gave him a soft, encouraging nod. "Spirits know a lot of things. You should definitely ask."

The Mother of Faces inclined her head. "Each season, I grant one favor... to one human."

Logan's head turned, just slightly. His heart gave a subtle thump.

"One?" Aang echoed, clearly thrown.

The spirit gave no ground. "One."

Logan felt the shift—like the trigger of a blaster being squeezed just to the edge. He didn't need the Force to know where this was heading, but the Force confirmed it all the same. Azula wasn't going to let this go. Not quietly. Not with patience. He shifted slightly, centering his weight. His hand dropped near his hilt. Azula hadn't spoken yet. But he could feel the storm coiling tighter.

The Mother of Faces continued. "Humans often chase me, begging for new identities. Have you come to do the same?"

Aang laughed nervously, hands up. "Not exactly. I mean, we kind of need two favors. But a magnificent, all-knowing spirit like yourself can probably make an exception, right? Your... uh... Face-ness?"

"Do no test my genrosity, young Avatar," the Mother of Faces says, sternly. "One," she reiterates.

Zuko stepped back beside Misu. "They've waited for so long... If it can only be one, it should be theirs."

Aang nodded in support. "I'm sorry, Zuko. We'll keep looking for Ursa after this."

Logan's gaze moved—finally, directly—onto Azula. He saw it in her eyes.

It was happening.

He moved a half-step forward. "Don't."

"Shut up, Jedi," she snapped, barely above a whisper.