Prophecy (Sun and Moon Book 3)

Chapter 37 - Sunrise

Zuko walked along the silent streets of Ursa, angrily chasing the birds in his head. He wished they would go away. He wished his thoughts would settle again, he wished he could calm down.

But every time he tried, he would think of Katara and Lia, or of the Lady of Hope and her confusing words, or his nation and Kamil, or worse, of the letter.

So many things in his life were wrong, messed up.

His sister was DEAD.

He'd managed not to think of that until now. Even at her funeral, it hadn't seemed real.

With everything else, it was just another weight, weighing down his heart. He felt like a man made of metal; if he let his shoulders slump he would slump right to the ground and never get up again.

Zuko felt like he didn't know anything anymore. He would have sworn that Katara would never lie to him--but she'd kept a secret so huge that it encompassed his entire life. Would he ever see his daughter again? Would he ever truly meet her, ever hold her, ever learn who she was? He didn't know.

On top of that, he couldn't even begin to understand what the spirits wanted from him, but they seemed determined to continue messing with his life, and it was driving him insane; why couldn't they just leave him alone? Let him figure out his destiny on his own?

He'd left his nation behind with his Uncle; this wasn't the first time he'd left. He was the Firelord and it was his duty to be in the Fire Nation, taking care of his people. But he couldn't seem to stay in one place--he was forever traveling around the world instead. Maybe it was a sign, maybe being the Firelord wasn't his destiny after all. Maybe... maybe he was meant to do something else. Ozai wasn't his father, Iroh wasn't his uncle.

Where did he belong? His real father was dead, Azula was gone. Iroh didn't want to rule, and if Zuko's enemies found out about the letter, they would force Zuko off the throne. Who knew what kind of person would end up ruling his nation?

Even knowing that, Zuko still felt lost. And alone. Very, very alone. He walked quickly through the palace gates, pushing back his hat just enough that the guards could see it was him. He heard a slight commotion behind him and knew they were sending a messenger to tell his uncle that he'd returned.

He ignored the noise and the knowledge, and made his way into the palace.

His uncle found him nearly an hour later, stretched out near the turtle duck pond, sound asleep. Shaking his head at his nephew's prone form, Iroh spread Zuko's cloak over the sleeping Firelord, and watched over him through the hours until dawn arrived, and with it, a new day.

There was no promise that the day would be brighter, and Iroh didn't know why his nephew had returned home.

All he knew was that another day meant another start, another possibility, another sunrise. And as long as the sun was rising, things couldn't be all bad. And they could always get better.

~

He stood in a valley, in its exact center. How he knew that, he couldn't have said. Around him, wild winds whipped the tall grass against him, stinging him and lashing his hair around his face. In the distance, a shape appeared, hovering just out of visibility.

With struggling steps, he made his way toward it--it became clearer as he moved, until he could see that it was a little girl, no more than four or five, with bright blue eyes that shone in the sunlight.

In one hand she held a ball of fire, a living, breathing thing that writhed against her tanned skin.

In the other hand she held a ball of water, calm and serene like a forest pool, moving constantly yet seeming so very still.

He got closer, almost able to touch her--then, she vanished. He whirled, trying to find her, but she was gone. At the far end of the valley, another shape appeared.

He started to run toward it, but the grass tangled around his legs, snaked up his torso and covered his face, until he was dragged down into it and completely surrounded.

He struggled and gasped for air, sucked in a lungful of water--then he was above the surface, breathing hard. Looking around, he saw that he was in the middle of an ocean, surrounded completely by water. Salt filled his nose and mouth, and he coughed up gobs of the white crystals.

He coughed and he coughed, until he was standing on an island of salt and his throat was raw and ravaged.

The sun beat down on him relentlessly and he couldn't get any relief. He dove back into the water, only to find himself swimming through sand. It filled his clothes and his nose and mouth and eyes, until he couldn't see or hear or breathe. He struggled and fought but he couldn't get out--then, laughter.

Bright and shimmering, it echoed all around him.

It was HER laughter, he would have known it anywhere. A hand grasped his and dragged him up, out of the sand, until he was sitting on a beach, staring out over waves topped in moonlight. Beside him stood a woman, tall and willowy, with billowing chocolate hair and blue eyes that smiled all the time.

She looked down at him and laughed.

A wave crashed over them, and when he wiped the salt from his eyes she was gone, as if she'd never been there.

Footsteps led away from him, up the beach. They were too small to belong to the woman, but he followed them anyway. Across the sand, around the rocks, until they ended at the threshold of a familiar house.

His house.

The summer house.

On Ember Island.

He heard footsteps behind him and turned--two women stood there. Old and wrinkled, with white hair in twin topknots.

They spoke at the same time, their crackling voices echoing through his head.

"Like waves washing away the footprints on the sand, Ember Island gives everyone a clean slate. Ember Island reveals the true you."

They repeated the words over and over again, coming closer and closer to him with each statement. They circled him like birds of prey, until their hands curled into the shapes of claws and they lunged at him, their words loud and insistent in his ears.

~

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0.o what on earth?!