A Search within the Force and Flame

XIX

 An unnatural darkness hung over the forest like a living thing. The only light came from the flames cradled in Azula's, Zuko's, and Aang's hands, casting flickering shadows against the warped, jagged trees. The branches twisted overhead like claws, reaching, curling—as if trying to keep what they'd taken.

The air was unnaturally cold. Not winter cold—wrong cold. They followed the drag marks along the forest floor. Azula walked slightly ahead, eyes scanning the ground. She knelt down, fingers brushing against the disturbed earth.

"He put up a fight," she murmured. "These marks are fresh. Ten minutes, maybe less."

"Why would Logan get taken?" Sokka asked, gripping his club tighter.

"Maybe it's connected to whatever in," Katara said, her voice uncertain. "Back in Yu Dao, during the meeting. And when Aang and I found him—after he had another episode—in the palace."

Azula and Zuko exchanged a look. A silent flash of understanding passed between them before turning toward Aang.

Aang nodded slowly. "When we found him, he was... distant. Scarred. Like someone who'd just seen a."

"Ghost" Azula said, finishing the thought for him.

Aang's breath caught. Katara blinked.

Azula's eyes narrowed as she straightened and faced the group.

"During dinner," she said, her voice clear, calculated, "Mother and Ikem mentioned this part of the forest. Said it can reflect your fears back at you—twist them into something real."

Sokka swallowed, scratching the back of his neck. "So, what—you're saying we're about to walk into Logan's nightmares?"

Azula gave a small nod.

"Exactly."

Zuko stepped forward, his flame burning steady in his palm.

"We need to stay alert. You all know Logan—he carries a lot, and he doesn't talk about most of it. Whatever we're about to walk into... it's not going to be easy."

Sokka looked around nervously and clutched his war club tighter.

"Fantastic," he muttered. "First we survive the end of the world, now we're on a walking tour through Jedi trauma." He paused. "Anyone wanna trade places?"

Katara lightly elbows and Azula glares.

"Right," Sokka mutters. "Not the time," he says, as the group moves on.

Deep in the forest:

The shadows thickened. Twisted roots knotted around Logan's legs as he was dragged across the dirt and moss, then thrown hard against a rock wall. His body hit with a heavy thud. Leaves and grit filled his mouth as he coughed, spitting them out.

He looked up and froze. Standing before a mirror image, corrupted by shadow and fury.

Lyra.
But not his Lyra.

Her figure shimmered like oil on water, rippling unnaturally, and her eyes glowed red with hatred that wasn't her own. She circled Logan like a predator toying with its prey, each step echoing through the hollow space of his mind.

"You are WORTHLESS!" Lyra screamed, driving her foot into Logan's ribs.

He cried out in pain as the blow launched him off the ground, skidding across the stone. She was on him before he could recover, grabbing the front of his shirt and hauling him to his knees like a ragdoll.