Avatar the last airbender: shackled earth

Tomo sat on the edge of the cart he was supposed to be hauling, his legs dangling limply as he caught his breath. The firebender overseer watching from the tunnel entrance scowled at him but didn't bother saying anything. Why would he? The boy wasn't worth wasting words on.

"Get up, Tomo," Lian urged softly, her voice steady but weary. "You'll get yourself punished again."

Tomo nodded, the weight of his exhaustion pressing down on him like a stone. He forced his legs to move, his feet dragging as he stood. The scars on his palms burned as he gripped the cart's handle, the raw skin catching on the splintered wood.. Each step toward the surface felt like a climb out of the underworld itself.

Today was his first trip to the settlement outside the mines—a place he had only seen in fleeting glimpses during his hurried arrival. It wasn't a reward; his mother needed supplies, and he finally earned enough to get them.

Tomo's first steps into stone shade were disorienting. The gray sky above was heavy with smoke, the air thick and acrid. He coughed, his lungs burning, but no one else seemed to notice. The people here moved with practiced indifference, their gazes fixed on the ground or their tasks.

He followed Lian to the market, his eyes darting from one ramshackle stall to another. The goods were pitiful: withered vegetables, stale bread, and thin scraps of meat. Miners exchanged their hard-earned wages for these scraps, their shoulders slumped under invisible weights.

Tomo's gaze lingered on a boy not much older than himself, who was being berated by a vendor for trying to trade a shiny stone for a loaf of bread. The boy's face was gaunt, his hands trembling as he clutched the stone. When the vendor refused him, he stumbled away, his shoulders shaking in silent sobs.

"Why don't they do something?" Tomo whispered to Lian.

She glanced at him sharply. "Who, Tomo? The miners? The villagers? No one here can afford to do anything. Not without paying a price."

The words stuck with him as they moved through the market. Every face he saw seemed carved from the same stone—grim, exhausted, and resigned.

As they left the market, Tomo's attention was drawn to a commotion near the town square. A group of firebenders stood in a loose circle, their laughter echoing through the streets. In the center of the circle knelt a man, his face bloodied and swollen.

"What did he do?" Tomo asked, his voice low.

Lian didn't answer right away. She pulled him away before he could see more. But he caught a glimpse of the firebender in charge—a wiry man with a cruel sneer and flames dancing in his palms. Sho, one of the overseers.

Later, as they returned to the mines, Lian finally spoke. "That man...he tried to steal extra rations for his family. He'll be lucky if he survives the night."

Tomo's chest tightened, the taste of bile rising in his throat. He clenched his fists, nails digging into his palms until they ached, but he couldn't bring himself to say anything. He was powerless, just like everyone else.

Life in the mines was no kinder than the world above. Each day was a cycle of backbreaking labor and suffocating despair. The tunnels were filled with the sounds of coughing, shovels striking stone, and the occasional crack of a whip.

One day, while hauling ore, Tomo noticed a group of children being herded toward a narrow tunnel. They couldn't have been older than eight or nine. The tunnel looked unstable, the wooden supports warped and cracked.

"They can't go in there," Tomo muttered, his voice shaking with something between fear and helplessness.

"Keep your head down," Lian warned, her grip on his arm tightening. But Tomo couldn't look away. His stomach churned as he watched the overseer bark at the children, his whip snapping through the air. Hesitantly, they entered the tunnel, their small bodies disappearing into the darkness.

Minutes later, a low rumble shook the ground. Dust and debris rained down, and Tomo froze, his heart pounding. The tunnel had collapsed. The screams that followed were faint, but unmistakable.

Tomo's legs trembled, but he didn't think. He dropped his cart, the weight of it crashing to the ground as he bolted toward the rubble. His breathing came in ragged gasps, his hands shaking as he clawed at the debris. The raw pain in his palms only spurred him on. He was already too late, but he couldn't stop.

"Get back!" an overseer shouted, his voice sharp and commanding, but Tomo ignored him, focusing only on the rocks that crushed the children beneath them.

A whip lashed across his back, the pain searing, but he kept digging. The blood from the fresh wound soaked through his clothes, but he didn't care. His hands, already scarred from weeks of toil, were bleeding again, but he refused to stop.

"Stop!" Sho's voice cut through the chaos like a knife, and a blast of fire sent Tomo sprawling.

The firebender loomed over him, his eyes cold, his smile like a razor. "You think you can save them? You can't even save yourself."

Sho's foot came down hard on Tomo's chest, crushing the air from his lungs. Tomo gasped for breath, the ache in his chest far more than physical. Sho leaned down, his voice a mocking whisper. "You'll learn soon enough. No one gets out of here. Not even you."

"Take him away," Sho ordered. "Let him learn what happens to heroes in this place."

Tomo spent the next day in the infirmary, his body battered and broken. The cool, damp air stung against his wounds, but it was the loss of Lian that kept him awake. She had stayed by his side after the firebender's punishment, her presence the only thing that tethered him to any semblance of hope.

But that hope, too, was ripped from him.

The next morning, Lian confronted Sho, her voice soft but desperate, begging him to treat Tomo's wounds. She didn't raise her voice or demand anything; she simply pleaded with him, her hands trembling as they clasped together.

Sho didn't care. He made an example of her in front of the entire mine, his flames reducing her to little more than ashes.

Tomo was still too weak to move, but the sound of Lian's final scream was burned into his memory forever.

Tomo wasn't allowed to see her body. When the overseers finally released him, all that remained was a small pile of scorched earth where she had stood.

Tomo walked back to their shared quarters in a daze. His limbs felt like lead, and his thoughts were a jumbled mess. As he entered the small, dimly lit room, the faint scent of sickness filled his nose.

His mother, bedridden and frail, was still lying there. The blankets around her had slipped, revealing the sharpness of her bones. Her breathing was slow, shallow, with her eyes shut soundly asleep.

For days, Tomo wandered the mine in a daze, his thoughts consumed by grief and rage. He thought of Lian, her bright eyes now forever closed, he thought about his mother who was slowly dying, it left a hollow ache in his chest. The world felt empty, but the more he thought about Lian, the more it gnawed at him, pushing him beyond the depths of despair.

But as the days passed, his despair gave way to something else—a quiet, smoldering determination.

Tomo retreated inward, focusing on his meditation. It had been something to hold onto in the chaos, a means of finding a shred of peace. It had been hard at first, but now he was used to the stillness. The hours spent alone in his mind became his refuge.

Days turned into weeks as he honed his focus, ignoring the hunger and pain. Each session felt like an eternity, but he refused to give up.

Finally, one night, a familiar ding echoed in his mind.

[Meditation] has leveled up: Level 2 (Experience: 0/200)

Tomo's eyes snapped open, his breath catching as the air around him seemed to shift. It was barely anything, but he felt it—a faint stirring at his fingertips. The air trembled, as if it too was waking up. He raised his hand, and a small breeze danced around him. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

Tomo's lips curled into a bitter, weary smile. "I'll keep going, Lian. For you."

He knew he had to hide his airbending. The Fire Nation would kill him if they suspected he was anything more than a broken miner. But for the first time since arriving in this world, Tomo felt a glimmer of hope.

He wasn't powerless. Not anymore.