The Second Avatar

Chapter 35: Family Qualms

The wind over the Shuihan docks had finally begun to settle.

The sea still lapped against the splintered piers, and the cries of gulls returned to the harbor air as if drawn by the scent of smoldering ships. The worst was over. Smoke curled upward in lazy spirals now, not choking columns. The screams had quieted into groans. The panic had become movement. Order. Effort.

At the center of it all, Gan Ye stood tall, surveying the ruined stretch of waterfront with narrowed eyes. His armor was scratched, one pauldron half torn away, and a smear of ash streaked his cheekbone. But his presence was calm and unwavering.

He approached the group gathered by the water, Rilo, still panting faintly, water trailing from his cuffs like silk threads; Yogan, arms crossed and contemplative; Kenshiro, who hadn't stopped glancing back at the scorched boats; and Haru, still silent beside Talia and Lian, who stood further off.

Gan Ye stopped before them.

"You saved this city," he said, loud enough for all nearby to hear. "And not just with strength. With precision. Discipline. Mercy."

He turned to Rilo first. "You commanded the sea like it knew your name."

Rilo let out a long breath and rubbed the back of his neck. "Well… we've been on speaking terms for a while."

Gan Ye allowed himself a faint smile. "And you," he said, nodding to Yogan, "held your friends together when fear nearly pulled them apart. That might matter even more."

Yogan's gaze flicked up, but he said nothing.

Gan Ye stepped back slightly and swept an arm toward the upper ridge of the city. "My family's estate is still standing. Somehow. And tomorrow morning, I'd like to invite you all to it, for a proper thank you. Not just from me, but from Shuihan."

Kenshiro perked up. "Palace breakfast?"

Rilo arched a brow. "You always this generous with strangers?"

"I'm the son of the City Lord," Gan Ye said plainly. "But more than that, I'm someone who's watched his home bleed. And today, you stopped it from bleeding more."

He extended a hand to Rilo first.

"Gan Ye," he said. "Officially."

Rilo shook it, firm. "Rilo."

He gestured to Yogan beside him. "That one's Yogan. He's quieter than me, but better at smiling. Usually."

"I can smile," Yogan said, deadpan. "Just not after cleaning seaweed out of my boots."

Kenshiro chuckled. "Hey, don't downplay it. The docks are going to be telling stories about you two for years."

Yogan looked at Rilo. "The part where he froze a wave the size of a small house mid-air? That's going to turn into a myth by sunset."

"Oh, definitely," Kenshiro added. "By tomorrow, it'll be 'He turned the whole bay into an army of water dragons.'"

"Don't give them ideas," Rilo grumbled, though the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Or," Yogan said, nodding solemnly, "'He parted the ocean with a single cough.'"

"'And the ocean said thank you.'" Kenshiro added with a dramatic bow.

Gan Ye shook his head, laughing under his breath. "Well, however the stories go, the invitation stands. My father... may not love it, but he'll listen. And this city owes you all more than it can repay."

He looked toward the crowds beginning to gather again, families reuniting, wounded being carried, vendors clutching broken carts.

Gan Ye's smile faded into something more thoughtful.

"I need to go. Organize relief. Keep the people calm. You've done your part. Let us do the rest."

He turned to his guards, who saluted before spreading into the crowd. Gan Ye followed after them, already barking orders, his voice calm but commanding.

As he left, Rilo exhaled and stretched both arms skyward.

"Well," he said, rolling his shoulders, "guess we're getting a fancy breakfast."

"You earned it," Yogan said, giving him a side glance. "You made the sea sit down and behave. That's new."

"I wasn't showing off," Rilo said, though a flicker of pride passed across his face.

"Sure," Kenshiro said, grinning. "But it was amazing. You looked like a legend."

"Maybe now," Yogan added, "people will stop thinking I'm the scary one."

The sea breeze still clung faintly to their clothes as they made their way back up the waterfront. Smoke drifted low behind them, the scent of salt and char beginning to fade. The city bustled in pockets, but the worst of the chaos had passed.

At the edge of the harbor, Moi stood with arms crossed in front of his fish shack, frowning at the tangle of ropes, nets, and broken crates scattered around.

When the group approached, he sighed, shaking his head.

"Well," he grumbled, "looks like I'm done selling fish today."

"You think?" Lian said, stepping beside him and nudging a toppled crate with her foot. "Half your knives are still stuck in the dock."

Moi turned with a tired scowl toward the group. "I'm closing up. Shutting the stall until further notice."

"You mean until someone fixes your roof again," Lian muttered.

"Exactly," he said with dignity.

He looked at Rilo, Yogan, Haru, Kenshiro, and Talia as they gathered. His frown deepened, though there wasn't as much fire in it now.

"You lot… get going," he said, waving them off. "You look like smoke-drenched scarecrows. And I don't want to look at you anymore until you've at least scrubbed off the ash."

"We appreciate the invite," Kenshiro said with a small bow.

"It's not an invite. It's shame prevention," Moi muttered. "I have a reputation."

"Do you, though?" Rilo said with a smirk.

"Shut it, traitor."

"I feel the love," Rilo replied, walking past him toward the narrow street that twisted uphill.

"Come on," Lian called, already walking ahead. "We're not staying in a smoke cloud all afternoon. It may be midday, but this day's already ruined."

"I thought it was a pretty eventful day," Haru muttered.

"Exactly," she said. "Ruined."

They walked for a few minutes through the winding city streets. Shuihan sloped gently inland, and their path climbed between narrow rows of old stone homes with slanted tile roofs and sun-faded banners. The streets had thinned out, most citizens were staying close to home after the attack. Only a few vendors lingered, sweeping debris or counting coins with quiet urgency.

The air was cooler here. The city smelled less of salt and more of cedar and smoke-kissed stone.

"So," Yogan said as they walked, glancing at Moi, "does your shack always come with explosive welcome parties?"

"I usually save those for special guests," Moi grunted.

"You treat all your customers this way?" Kenshiro added.

"Only the ones I don't like."

"So… most of them," Haru said.

"Exactly."

"I'm starting to see why he married you," Rilo muttered to Lian. "You're the only one who can survive him."

She snorted. "I don't survive him. I outmatch him."

Eventually, they reached the edge of the city proper, where the buildings gave way to wider spaces, small gardens, and low stone walls. Tucked behind a hedgerow and past an old wooden gate was a modest house, two stories, clay walls, a tiled roof, and a lean-to storage shed to the side. The garden behind the house stretched downhill, lined with vegetables, bamboo stalks, and a crooked wooden fence.

Lian opened the door with a casual push and stepped inside.

"Get in, all of you," she said. "And don't drip seawater on the floors."

The inside was humble but clean,woven reed mats on the floor, clay lanterns, a low table with chipped cups, and bundles of herbs hanging from a drying rack near the hearth. The smell of mint and rice still lingered faintly.

"You're lucky you caught us after I cleaned," Lian added as they shuffled in.

"Feels cozy," Kenshiro said, stepping inside and pulling off his damp cloak.

"I swear if you ruin anything, I'll feed you to the yama-ox," Moi muttered.

"First," Lian said firmly, "everyone washes up and gets those wounds looked at."

"I'm not hurt," Yogan replied, hands folded behind his head.

"That doesn't matter," Lian said without looking at him. "You still smell like a wet chimney."

Yogan blinked. "Why don't you like me?"

Everyone paused.

"I mean," he continued, puzzled but sincere, "I didn't do anything to you. Why don't you like me?"

Lian stopped mid-step, turned slightly, and narrowed her eyes.

"You talk too much," she said. "You smile too much. You think that calm voice of yours makes you endearing, but really it just makes you sound like you're trying to sell me something."

Yogan blinked again. "I'm… not?"

"I don't care."

Before Yogan could respond again, Rilo groaned and clapped him on the back hard enough to jolt him forward.

"Just shut up and let's go wash up in the back," he said.

"Yeah, yeah," Yogan muttered, following him.

Haru and Kenshiro trailed behind, stepping back out the rear door toward the garden spigot and shallow washing basin near the fence.

"You better not ruin my garden!" Moi shouted after them, charging out behind the group. "Don't step on the ginger sprouts!"

And just like that, the door clicked shut behind them.

Inside, Lian turned toward the sitting room where the quiet had taken root like a breath being held.

Only she and Talia remained.

The room felt heavier now. The sun glinted off the clay tea pot on the table, untouched. The silence stretched.

Lian crossed her arms slowly and leaned against the wall.

"So," she said softly. "You want to tell me what really happened with your brother?"

Talia stared at the hearth, her voice quiet.

"I already did."

Lian watched her a moment longer, then slowly walked over and sat beside her.

"Then tell me how you're still standing."

The room was quiet for a while.

Talia didn't answer immediately. Her eyes remained fixed on the cold hearth, its ashes undisturbed since last night's meal. The air between her and Lian carried the weight of dust, old, settled silence that hadn't been touched in years.

Lian broke it first.

"You know," she said softly, "I remember that second raid. The one only three weeks after your brother left."

Talia's eyes flicked sideways.

"I remember how you stood barefoot in the middle of the market square with a hoe in one hand and a chipped roof tile in the other," Lian continued. "You cracked open a bandit's skull like a melon. With a roof tile."

"I didn't have a weapon," Talia said quietly.

Lian smirked faintly. "Didn't need one."

A small breath of something, maybe amusement, maybe exhaustion, escaped Talia's nose.

Lian leaned forward a little, elbows resting on her knees, voice still low.

"You were seventeen. No real training. No command experience. And somehow, the village didn't fall apart. I know you remember that, even if you pretend not to."

"I remember the look on people's faces when they realized Haru was gone," Talia said, fingers curling in her lap. "I remember the silence. The waiting. As if everyone thought he'd come back the next day like it was a joke."

She swallowed.

"And I remember how long they kept looking to me after that. Like I had answers."

"You did have answers," Lian said. "You just didn't like what they were."

"No," Talia said, her voice sharper now. "I hated them."

Lian didn't flinch. "Good. That means they mattered."

They sat in silence again.

Outside, the soft murmur of voices filtered in from the backyard, Yogan asking if the water was cold, Kenshiro laughing, Moi yelling something about boot prints on his fence.

Inside, the living room stayed still.

"I'm tired," Talia said at last.

"I know."

"Not just from walking, or fighting. It's this weight. It doesn't go away. It just... waits for you to slow down so it can catch up again."

Lian leaned back against the wall, tilting her head.

"You want me to tell you that you've done enough," she said.

Talia didn't answer.

"I can't," Lian added. "Because maybe you haven't."

That made Talia turn sharply. "You think I'm being selfish?"

"I think," Lian said gently, "you're trying to outrun guilt with good intentions. And I've done that before. It doesn't end well."

Talia's jaw clenched. "So I should just sit at home while my father dies? Let him fade because it's easier?"

"That's not what I'm saying." Lian turned to face her fully. "I'm saying maybe you're chasing something you can't catch. And worse, you might break yourself trying."

Talia looked down. "There's a healer in the Southern Water Tribes. She cured a fever that wiped out a whole village. The midwife swears it. She says this woman is real. That she moves from coast to coast, helping whoever she finds."

"And that's not a myth?" Lian asked. "Not just a story made bigger with every telling?"

"I don't know," Talia said. "But it's something. And I can't just stay still. Not while he wastes away back home."

Lian's tone softened again. "You've always wanted to fix things. To carry things. Even when your back was breaking."

"I couldn't let go," Talia said.

"I know. But this? This isn't just another bandit to drive off or a broken roof to patch. This is weeks of travel through unstable territory. River raiders, ice and snow toll clans, half the southern outposts still loyal to the wrong thrones."

"And still I have to try."

Lian shook her head slowly. "And what if the healer's not there when you arrive? What if she's moved on? Or worse, what if your father's already…"

She trailed off.

Talia's voice came out like a whisper. "Then at least I tried."

"You think that's what he wants?" Lian asked. "For you to throw yourself after smoke? You're all he has left."

"And that's exactly why I can't sit still."

Lian exhaled.

They both sat quietly again. The breeze pushed gently through the window slats. The house creaked.

"You're not wrong to want to go," Lian finally said. "And I won't stop you. But I needed to say it out loud. That this path? It's not noble. It's not foolish. It's just hard. And I want you to be honest about what you're choosing."

Talia blinked, her eyes suddenly burning. She looked away quickly.

"You sound like someone who's been there."

"I have," Lian murmured. "And sometimes I still wish I hadn't."

Talia stood slowly, brushing dust from her trousers.

"I'm not trying to be a hero."

Lian rose too.

"I know," she said. "You're just trying to be a daughter."

They stood facing each other for a long moment, two women weathered by burden, burned by choices, and still standing.

Then Lian tilted her head toward the back room.

"Go wash up. You smell like old nets and smoke."

Talia managed the barest ghost of a smile. "Yeah," she said, "I guess I do."

She turned toward the hallway, her steps slow but steady.

And Lian watched her go.

---

In the garden behind Moi's house, steam curled from the old spigot basin nestled beside the fence, where a clay pipe trickled lukewarm water into a stone tub barely big enough for two. Bamboo shoots swayed gently in the breeze, and the early afternoon sun cast warm light over the dirt path and rows of struggling vegetables.

Yogan stood shirtless beside the tub, wringing out his tunic.

"You know," he said, "this isn't bad. Could use a little more pressure."

"I'm sorry," Moi barked from nearby, hands on his hips, "should I build you a private bathhouse while I'm at it? Maybe toss rose petals in the basin?"

"You'd be surprised what petals do for the skin," Yogan replied seriously.

"Oh Spirits, he's serious," Rilo muttered.

Haru dipped a toe into the tub and immediately yelped, hopping back. "It's freezing!"

Kenshiro squatted beside it, hand swirling through the water. "It's not that bad. You're just sensitive."

"Says the guy who wore two jackets in spring," Haru shot back.

"Fashion is pain."

"Spoken like someone who's never bathed in cold water before."

"Are we gonna wash or debate water temperature until nightfall?" Rilo growled, already stripping off his outer robes.

Moi groaned. "I swear, if any of you touch the tomatoes, I'll skin you with a fish scaler."

"Tomatoes?" Yogan glanced around. "That what those tiny shriveled things are over there?"

"They're heirlooms, you savage!"

"They look like raisins trying to grow legs," Haru muttered.

Moi stormed toward the garden patch. "That's it. Out. No one touches the tomatoes. No one breathes near the tomatoes. You, Airboy, step away from the fence."

Yogan held up both hands. "I was admiring the irrigation system."

"That's a rock with a hole in it!"

"Exactly," Yogan said. "It's elegantly simple."

"You're elegantly full of crap," Moi snapped.

Kenshiro, half-submerged now and grinning, leaned back against the edge of the tub. "You ever consider opening a spa, Moi? Could call it 'Moi's Moody Waters.'"

"I'll drown you in those waters, pretty boy."

"People pay extra for that kind of attention."

"Out. All of you. You've been here twenty minutes and already I feel like putting myself back on a boat."

Rilo chuckled as he sat beside the basin and poured a ladle of water over his head. "Don't worry, old man. We'll be gone soon."

"Not soon enough."

Yogan turned, looking down at the rows of cucumbers behind him. "Hey, is this one supposed to be yellow?"

"DON'T TOUCH MY CUCUMBERS!"

Rilo stood and walked slowly past the spindly stalks, rubbing his chin. "You know, I think your soil's too dry. You might want to irrigate more."

"Don't act like you know gardening just because you once poured water on your own boot."

"I am a waterbender."

"You're also a lunatic who tried to freeze half the harbor," Moi snapped.

"I was aiming for a third."

Kenshiro dunked his head under the water and came up sputtering. "You guys argue like family."

"We are family," Moi growled. "The disappointing kind."

Haru, rubbing water into his scalp, nodded solemnly. "I'd say this is what brotherhood looks like."

"No, this is what a bad idea looks like," Moi said. "A bunch of half-naked, muddy fools bathing in my backyard like a gang of cursed spirits."

"Technically," Yogan added, "I think I'm the cursed one. Or chosen. Depends on the region."

"Depends on the hour," Rilo muttered.

"Depends on who's mad at me," Yogan agreed.

There was a beat of silence, and then everyone burst out laughing, even Moi, though he turned quickly and pretended to cough.

"Alright, alright," Moi said, throwing up his hands. "Just clean yourselves up, eat something, and get out of my garden before I have to regrow every damn root vegetable from scratch."

"Yes, sir," Haru said mockingly, saluting with a dripping hand.

Rilo leaned back against the fence, water still sliding off his skin. "Honestly," he said, "for a moment, I forgot we almost died today."

Kenshiro nodded. "I'll take your grumpy old man hospitality over another pirate ambush any day."

Yogan smiled faintly, eyes turned upward toward the thin clouds drifting past.

"Yeah," he said. "It's good to breathe again."

From inside the house, a small thud echoed, followed by muffled laughter.

Moi blinked. "What are the women doing in there?"

"Plotting your doom," Kenshiro offered.

"They're going to burn my stewpot, I can feel it."

"We should be so lucky," Rilo said. "It'll match your cooking."

"GET OUT OF MY YARD!"

Laughter broke again as the water splashed and the sun began to dip just slightly lower, the light softening like the breath between storms.

The back door creaked open with a rusted squeal as Rilo stepped into the house, drying his hair with a fraying cloth Moi had tossed at him a few moments earlier. His shirt was slung over one shoulder, boots squelching faintly as he padded across the cool floorboards. He was halfway to the washroom when he paused.

Voices drifted from the sitting room.

He tilted his head.

"…but the midwife said she travels by ship," Talia was saying. "Always near the coast. She doesn't stay long anywhere, just long enough to help and move on."

Rilo took a slow step back and leaned silently against the hallway wall, listening.

"I remember hearing about her during the grain fever outbreak," Lian said. "A small village north of Ishu. Everyone too weak to stand. And she just… healed them? That story always felt too perfect."

"It's not just a story," Talia insisted. "She's real. And if I can reach her…"

"You think she'll just drop everything and follow you halfway across the Zhen Kingdom to save one dying man?" Lian asked, gently but firmly. "You don't even know where she is."

"That's why I'm leaving soon," Talia replied. "Before she moves on again."

Rilo stepped into the doorway then, towel still over his shoulder, voice low.

"She won't be easy to find," he said.

Both women turned sharply.

Lian raised an eyebrow. "You done soaking the backyard, then?"

"Here to grab the drying salve," Rilo replied, but his gaze was on Talia now. "You really think you're going to cross the cold sea looking for a ghost?"

"She's not a ghost," Talia said. "You heard me…"

"I heard," Rilo cut in. "And I've heard the same stories. A woman healer from the Southern Tribes. Moves from port to port. Shows up, heals the sick, then disappears before the ink dries on the rumors."

"You know about her?" Lian asked, arms folding.

"I've seen the aftermath," Rilo said, voice quieter now. "A village wiped out by fever… and survivors left talking like they'd seen a Spirit in human form. No one agreed on her face. Some said she was old. Some said she was barely twenty. But they all agreed on one thing, she didn't stay."

Talia leaned forward. "But she exists?"

Rilo hesitated.

"I think so," he said. "But finding her is one thing. Asking her to come with you? That's another."

"Why?" Talia pressed. "If she's a healer, wouldn't she want to help?"

Rilo looked away, jaw tightening.

"She's not just a healer. If it's the same person I'm thinking of… she's also a Waterbender. A powerful one. And some people say she has her own reasons for moving the way she does. Some say she's running from something. Others say she's looking for someone."

Talia frowned. "You're being vague on purpose."

"Because I don't know," Rilo admitted. "I only crossed paths with her once. Maybe. In the White Shell Markets near the Eastern Cape. She healed a merchant's daughter who was coughing blood. Stayed one night. Slipped out before dawn. Left behind nothing but dried herbs and a message carved into a bench."

"What did it say?" Lian asked.

Rilo's eyes darkened.

"'The sea doesn't answer to kings. Don't ask it to.'"

Talia looked down, brow furrowed.

"She sounded… kind."

"She might be," Rilo said. "But kind doesn't mean available. And it sure as hell doesn't mean obedient."

Talia looked back up. "But if my father's dying…"

"I get it," Rilo said, softer now. "Believe me. If there's even a chance she could help, I'd understand chasing her to the edge of the world."

Lian watched him closely. "But?"

Rilo rubbed a hand through his damp hair, exhaling slowly.

"But the Southern Sea isn't forgiving. Especially not these days. The pirate routes are shifting. There's a new blockade forming near the ice shelves. And with the Earth King's coastal inspectors squeezing everyone for tariffs, smugglers are getting bold, and violent."

"So I need to move fast," Talia said.

"No," Rilo said. "You need to move smart. If you walk into that sea with a bag of silver and a name no one trusts, you're either going to vanish… or end up sold into debt somewhere in the Coral Markets."

Silence.

Talia stared at the floor, her expression unreadable.

"I thought I was prepared," she said quietly. "I thought if I just tried hard enough…"

"You're brave," Rilo said, not unkindly. "But bravery and preparation are two different things. I've seen both drown."

Talia swallowed, but didn't respond.

Lian crossed her arms again. "So what would you suggest? That she stays home and watches her father die?"

"I didn't say that," Rilo said. "But if she's set on going, she needs help. Real help. From someone who knows the coastlines. Knows the cultures. Knows how not to get killed."

Talia looked up. "Are you offering?"

Rilo was silent for a long time.

Then he shrugged. "Not yet."

"Why not?"

"Because I haven't decided if you're walking into the sea to save your father," he said, "or to run away from everything else."

The words hit harder than either woman expected. Talia flinched, just slightly. Lian narrowed her eyes, but didn't interrupt.

Rilo glanced away, muttered something under his breath, then stepped toward the back hallway.

"The drying salve's in the cupboard," Lian called after him.

"I know," Rilo muttered.

Just before he turned the corner, he looked back at Talia.

"If you do find her," he said, "don't assume she'll listen. Not everyone good is waiting to be asked."

Then he disappeared down the hall, the door creaking behind him.

As the door creaked shut behind Rilo, silence returned to the room, thick as steam.

Talia shifted as if to rise, brushing her hands on her thighs.

"I should…"

"Wait," said Haru, stepping into the room from the hallway.

His hair was still damp, and he hadn't bothered to fully fasten his shirt. His face was flushed, not just from the heat, but something deeper. His eyes searched hers with quiet intensity.

"Talia," he said again, softer. "Please… just hear me out."

She stood halfway between sitting and walking, jaw clenched. Her body said no. But something in her shoulders gave her away.

Lian, still seated, gestured gently. "Sit. Just for a moment."

Talia stared at both of them, then sat again, reluctantly, on the edge of the mat.

Haru took a deep breath. "I overheard part of what Rilo said. And he's right… about the Southern Sea. It's not just water and wind. It's a beast. I wouldn't let anyone face that alone, least of all you."

"I didn't ask for help," Talia replied.

"I know," he said. "But I'm offering it anyway."

She looked at him skeptically.

"I'm not talking about myself," Haru clarified. "Yogan and Rilo… they're heading south too. Toward the Southern Water Tribes. Toward that healer. Maybe not the same village, but they'll be crossing the same waters."

Talia frowned. "They didn't say anything."

"They wouldn't have yet. They were waiting to speak with Gan Ye in the morning. But it's already decided, they're leaving within the next few days."

Lian's brows lifted. "That's… interesting timing."

Haru turned to Talia again. "You could go with them. Rilo knows the waters. The back routes. The dangers. He's the best guide you'll find this side of the royal fleet."

"I don't even know him," Talia said.

"You don't have to," Haru replied. "You just have to trust that he wants to help. Maybe more than I ever did."

Talia's gaze turned sharp. "Don't do that. Don't start apologizing again like it'll fix anything."

"I'm not trying to fix it," Haru said, firm but steady. "I'm trying to change what I can."

She hesitated.

He stepped closer, not too close, but enough that she could see the strain behind his words.

"I was selfish," he said. "When I left the village, I told myself it was to grow, to find purpose, to break free from expectations. But deep down… I was scared. Scared of living a life I didn't choose. Scared of being ordinary. Scared of never becoming anything more than the boy who fixed roofs and milked ox-goats."

Talia looked away.

"I can't undo what I did to you," Haru said. "I can't rewrite the pain I left you with, or the nights you stood guard alone. But I can try to do right by you now. Not with words, but with action."

Before Talia could reply, another figure appeared in the doorway, Kenshiro. His steps were slower, more hesitant, as he entered, still toweling off his hair.

"I was hoping to wait for the right time," he said, "but knowing our timing, that probably doesn't exist."

Talia stared at him in silence.

Kenshiro cleared his throat, setting the towel down on the back of a chair. "You were right, earlier. About the wedding. About everything. I panicked. I ran. And it wasn't fair to you. It wasn't fair to anyone."

Talia's mouth tightened. "That's an understatement."

Kenshiro nodded slowly. "I know. But Haru and I… we talked last night. After you left."

Lian raised a brow. "You two actually had a mature conversation without stabbing each other?"

"Miracles happen," Haru said dryly.

Kenshiro gave a thin smile. "We made a decision. A real one."

He glanced at Haru. "He's going back. To the village. He'll stay. Take care of the elders. Keep the fields going. Try to repair what we broke."

"And me?" Talia asked coldly.

"I'm going with you," Kenshiro said.

The words landed like stones.

"I can't undo what I did either," he added quickly. "But I can be there now. I can help you find that healer. I can protect you, if nothing else. It's not redemption, I know that. But it's a start."

Talia stood slowly, her hands curling into fists. "You think that's enough? That because you say sorry and offer help, I'm supposed to pretend everything's fine?"

"No," Haru said softly. "We're not asking for forgiveness. We're asking for a chance to deserve it someday."

Talia's voice trembled, but she didn't yell. "You left me. Both of you. When I needed you most. You abandoned me. And you think I'm just going to… what? Walk into the ocean with you and smile like it never happened?"

"No," Kenshiro said. "We don't expect that."

"Good," she snapped. "Because I haven't forgiven either of you. I don't know if I ever will."

"Then don't," Lian said firmly, standing now. "Not yet."

Talia blinked at her, caught off guard.

"You're not wrong to be angry," Lian continued. "You're not wrong to feel betrayed. But the question isn't whether they deserve your forgiveness. It's whether you can afford to walk this path alone."

Talia looked down.

"You need help, Talia," Lian pressed. "Real help. You're brave, yes. You're strong, absolutely. But this journey will test every piece of you, and even the strongest wood breaks without support."

"I don't want to need them," Talia said, almost a whisper.

"No one wants to need the people who hurt them," Lian said gently. "But sometimes those are the only ones who understand what they broke, and how to help carry it now."

Talia was silent again.

"I'm not asking you to forget," Lian said. "I'm asking you to be practical. You want your father to live? Then take the help. You don't have to speak to them. You don't have to forgive them. But don't walk into the sea alone out of pride."

Kenshiro stepped forward. "We'll follow your lead. Your pace. No pressure. No expectations. Just… let us help carry the weight this time."

Talia's eyes shimmered, but she said nothing.

Haru bowed his head. "Please."

Lian put a hand on her shoulder. "Think about it."

And then no one spoke.

The room sat in stillness once more, but this time it wasn't the quiet of pain. It was the quiet of something fragile, possibility, trying to breathe.

The silence lingered like a final breath.

Talia's fingers tightened around the edge of her sash. Her jaw tensed. Her gaze remained locked on the wooden floor, unmoving, until finally, slowly, she spoke.

"Fine," she said.

The word fell flat, but it landed with weight.

"I'll go with you," she continued, her voice low. "I'll take the help. I'll follow Rilo. I'll travel with that airboy and the waterboy."

Haru let out a shaky breath. Kenshiro's shoulders dropped slightly, relief washing over both their expressions.

"But…" Talia's eyes rose, sharp and unwavering now. "Don't mistake that for forgiveness."

Kenshiro blinked. "Talia…"

"No," she snapped. "You don't get to rewrite what happened. You don't get to carry my pain around like a sack of apologies and think it balances out."

She stepped forward, closing the distance just enough for her voice to cut.

"I will never forgive you," she whispered. "Not for abandoning me. Not for the nights I had to stand guard alone. Not for letting our father get worse while you chased freedom and fear."

Haru looked away.

"And you," she added, turning to Kenshiro, "you don't get to wipe away a broken promise just because you showed up late to your guilt."

He nodded once, eyes down. "Understood."

"I'm going south because I have no choice," she said. "Not because I trust either of you. Not because I believe you've changed. But because I want my father to live. And because I'm tired of doing everything alone."

She stepped away, toward the hallway.

"I'll be ready when Rilo is," she said, and without looking back, disappeared into the corridor, footsteps heavy but steady.

Lian exhaled, long and deep.

"Well," she muttered, "that went better than I expected."

Kenshiro let out a breathless laugh. "Better?"

Haru scratched the back of his neck. "We're still breathing. That's something."

The light outside had softened into warm amber hues, long shadows stretching across the narrow garden. The scent of damp earth and mint filled the air.

Yogan knelt beside a row of stubborn, thin-leafed tomato stalks, scooping small handfuls of dark soil and packing them around the base of the plants.

Moi, crouched nearby, was carefully weaving a new bamboo trellis to replace a snapped one. He hadn't said much in a while.

"Not bad," Moi muttered eventually.

Yogan looked up. "Hm?"

"You're better at this than I figured. Most city boys poke the roots and expect fruit to pop out."

"I lived near a monastery most of my life," Yogan replied, wiping his hands on his pants. "We had to grow our own food. Quiet work. Gives the mind space to stretch."

Moi grunted. "Stretch too much and you start thinking you're smart."

Yogan smiled faintly. "Is that what happened to you?"

"Boy, I was born smart. Then I got smarter. Then I met Rilo and realized intelligence is wasted on fools."

Yogan chuckled. "How long have you known him?"

"Long enough to regret it," Moi said, standing and dusting off his hands. "Met him when he was still figuring out which end of a fish was edible."

Yogan leaned against a fence post. "He's been teaching me waterbending. Sort of."

"Sort of?"

"He watches. Critiques. Occasionally hits me with a stick."

"Sounds about right."

There was a comfortable pause.

"You know," Yogan said slowly, "I never expected to meet someone like him."

Moi raised a brow.

"A few months back," Yogan continued, "I was still living in the temple. Life was… calm, mostly. One of the younger airbenders, causing trouble for the elders as usual. Then one day, a waterbender shows up during a bandit raid. Total stranger. Strong, fast, silent. He leaves just as suddenly as he arrived."

Moi listened, arms crossed.

"My friends bonded with him," Yogan went on. "He even seemed to like the place. But that's when things started to crack. My older brother, Renji, he started stirring trouble. Talking about how the elders were weak, how the temple should and us airbenders should be lords and powerlords, that kind of crap."

"Power-hungry?" Moi asked.

"Maybe," Yogan said. "But also lost. He thought strength came from control. He started influencing the younger airbenders. Some agreed with him. Even some neighboring earthen village lady agreed to help him along with the mayor of bintan. Enough to stage a coup."

Moi whistled. "Lovely."

"And that waterbender?" Yogan's voice darkened slightly. "He helped him."

"The same one who showed up during the raid?"

"Yeah. His name was Kezin. We thought he was a friend. He wasn't."

Yogan stood now, eyes distant, as though seeing it all again.

"They attacked during the night. Renji rallied a dozen students. Kezin led the assault on the elders' quarters. Turns out he wasn't there for politics, he was after somekind of Spirit Orb."

Moi narrowed his eyes. "A what now?"

"An artifact," Yogan said. "Old. Said to amplify a bender's connection to their element. Dangerous in the wrong hands."

"And he wanted it?"

"He got it," Yogan replied. "But I stopped him. Barely. I fought Renji as well. My own brother. Kezin vanished during the chaos. And so did Renji."

Moi looked away, the lines around his eyes deepening.

"I left the temple soon after," Yogan said. "To hunt Kezin. To find answers. And when I reached a village called Tamai, I helped them against bandits hiding in the mountains. That's where I met Rilo."

"Figures," Moi said. "Trouble likes to cluster."

Yogan smiled faintly. "He saw me waterbending and offered to train me. Said he could teach me properly, back in his homeland. The Southern Water Tribes. I asked if he knew Kezin. He said he'd been sent by his people to hunt him."

Yogan looked over at Moi. "That's why we're heading south now. Kezin's trail leads there."

Just then, the back door creaked open again.

Rilo stepped outside, towel slung around his neck, boots back on.

He approached slowly, overhearing the tail end of the conversation.

"So," Rilo said, "you told him everything?"

Yogan shrugged. "The important parts."

Moi glanced at Rilo. "That why you came here? You need a boat?"

"Yes," Rilo said bluntly. "One that can handle the ice routes. You said Kezin passed through here. That he was in a hurry."

Moi frowned. "Didn't say his name. How do you know I meant your Kezin?"

Rilo met his eyes. "Because he's the only one who ever moved like that. Walked like he was in five places at once. Asked questions no normal person asks. And he carried two knives, hooked blades, shaped like crescent moons."

Moi's jaw tightened.

"I taught you those blades," he said quietly.

Yogan blinked. "Wait, what?"

Rilo didn't smile.

"Kezin taught me everything I know about knives," Moi said. "And waterbending. He was… my mentor."

Rilo spat in the dirt.

"And now I am hunting him."

"Because I know what he became," Rilo said. "What he's becoming."

Yogan stepped back slightly. "You never told me he trained you."

Rilo looked at him, voice low. "Because I wasn't ready to face that part of the story."

Moi wiped his hands on a rag and muttered, "Spirits help us all."

The air had changed.

The garden felt still, too still, no longer a quiet space of dirt and plants, but the echoing center of something long buried surfacing at last.

Rilo's eyes were locked on Moi's, and something in his posture had changed. He was no longer just tired, or irritated. He looked… hunted. And determined.

"I know what Kezin's done," Rilo said quietly. "I've seen it. Towns that no longer have names. Villages that buried entire lineages because one man whispered in the right ear, pushed the right leader, poisoned the right well."

Moi folded his arms across his chest. "And you still didn't see it coming."

"I didn't want to," Rilo admitted. "He wasn't just some fellow trainer. We were raised together. Same roof. Same fire. Same damn story."

"He wasn't the same boy even back then," Moi snapped. "I warned you."

"I know you did."

"I told you to keep one eye open when you trained with him. Told you he was watching everything too closely, asking questions he had no business asking…"

"I remember," Rilo said, sharper now.

Yogan stood between them, silent, watching. Listening. Gathering each piece of the past with a slowly forming realization: this wasn't just a pursuit. This was a fracture that had begun long before he met either of them.

"You saw what he became," Rilo continued. "But I saw what he did. He made a mayor burn down his own town just to root out a rebellion. He wiped out a fishing village because they refused to send conscripts. He convinced a Spirit-touched tribe to turn on their own elders, and when the smoke cleared, the only survivors were the ones who bent the knee to him."

Moi shook his head, bitter. "You think you're the only one who's seen how far he's fallen?"

"Why hasn't your Council sent a fleet then?" Moi demanded. "Why haven't the Northern, Southern, and Outer Tribes come together to bring him in if he's that dangerous?"

Rilo didn't blink. "Because they did. They sent me."

Silence.

Yogan furrowed his brow. "Wait… just you?"

Rilo nodded. "They don't want a war. They don't want him to know he's being hunted. They sent someone who could blend in. Track. Intervene. Permanently, if necessary."

Moi let out a short, humorless laugh. "So you're a shadow. They trust you that much?"

"They didn't," Rilo said. "Not at first. But after what happened with Shen…"

His voice faltered.

Moi's eyes narrowed. "Now we're getting to it."

Rilo looked away.

"You failed it once," Moi said, voice tightening. "You already failed their trust when it came to Shen. And look where that got us."

"That wasn't the same," Rilo said.

"Wasn't it?" Moi asked, stepping forward now, not with anger, but the weight of someone watching a storm roll over a place they once called home. "You had Shen on the ground. You had a clear shot. You let him live. And now he's got mercenaries under his name, spies in cities, and bounties with the ink still drying."

Yogan blinked. "Shen… the same Shen who tortured Rilo?"

"The very same," Moi growled. "That 'big idiot,' as we used to call him. Kezin, Rilo, Shen… they were all raised under the same master in the Southern Water Tribes. Different in skill, but trained together."

"Brothers with Kezin the older of us being like the aforementioned mentor to Shen and I," Rilo muttered.

"Brothers," Moi echoed bitterly. "And now look at you. One vanished into madness. One turned his knives inward. And one…" he looked at Rilo sharply… "has to decide if he's got the spine to end the other two."

Rilo stepped closer, jaw tight. "I will stop Kezin. The chiefs gave me their trust. I'll carry it to the end this time."

Moi stared at him, hard. "You say that. But when the moment comes… can you strike the killing blow? Can you end the same boy who used to sneak you fire salts under your master's nose? Who taught you the rhythm of water knives and how to cut through kelp while blindfolded?"

"He's not that boy anymore," Rilo said, voice steady.

"Neither was Shen," Moi replied. "And still you hesitated."

Rilo's face darkened. "I won't this time."

"You better not," Moi said. "Because the next time someone doesn't hesitate, it won't be you. It'll be Kezin. And whoever he kills next… that blood will flow back to you."

Yogan took a slow breath, glancing between them both. "This isn't just a mission, is it?"

Rilo looked at him.

"No," he said. "It's a reckoning."

Silence hung in the garden.

Moi stared at Rilo for a long moment, then exhaled slowly. His shoulders dropped, not in defeat, but in decision.

"I'll get us a boat," he said quietly. "Kezin's returned to the Southern Water Tribes. We have to find him."

Rilo said nothing at first. Yogan looked from one to the other, unsure whether to feel relief or dread.

But then Moi glanced toward the house and added, "Before we seal this, there's something you both need to see."

Yogan frowned. "What is it?"

Moi turned toward the door. "Lian! Come out here a moment."

A muffled voice called back. "I'm just about to start the stew!"

"It can wait," Moi said.

There was a pause, then the soft creak of the back door opening. Lian stepped outside, apron tied at her waist, hands still damp from washing vegetables. Her brow was slightly furrowed.

"What is it now?" she asked, walking over. "The way you're standing out here, someone would think the world's ending."

She looked at the three of them, Rilo unusually pale, Yogan stiff, Moi somber, and her smile faded.

"…What's going on?" she asked, tone shifting instantly. "What happened?"

Moi turned to her, voice lower now.

"Show them," he said.

Lian blinked. "Moi…"

"Show them what 'he' did," he said, his voice flat. "What Kezin did."

Lian's breath caught. She looked between the two younger men, then back at her husband.

"Moi," she whispered, her voice breaking slightly. "You can't be serious."

"Do it," he said, stepping closer. "They need to know what we're dealing with."

Her lips parted, but no words came. Only a deep silence, the kind that settles when memory crawls too close.

Yogan could see it then, something shifting in her face. The bravado, the irritation from earlier… gone. Replaced by a pale tightness around her eyes. Fear. Real, choking fear.

Lian slowly lifted the hem of her dress, just above her knee. Then higher, to the top of her thigh.

Beneath the cloth, thick bandages were tightly wrapped around her leg. At their edges, deep purple bruising pulsed out like ink, twisted and angry. Scars, old and raw, curled beneath the gauze.

Yogan took an involuntary step back. Rilo's jaw clenched, hard.

Lian's voice trembled.

"Last time Kezin passed through here," she said, "I refused to help him. He asked for something… I don't even remember what anymore. I said no."

She swallowed. "This was his response."

"She nearly lost her leg," Moi said, softly now. "He didn't yell. Didn't threaten. Just… walked away. That night, her blood started boiling like it had fire in it. We barely stopped it."

Rilo said nothing. His eyes were fixed on the wound, the bandages, the shaking fingers of the woman who had only an hour earlier been teasing him over tomatoes.

"If it weren't for the spirit water you gave me back then," Moi said, finally looking back at Rilo, "my wife would be a cripple now."

Lian lowered the dress slowly, covering the damage again. Moi reached out and took her hand in his own. She held it tightly, her other hand still trembling.

The memory hadn't faded. It had only buried itself deeper.

Yogan finally found his voice. "He did that with bending?"

"No," Moi said. "With knowledge. Precision. Intent. That's what makes him worse than Shen ever was."

The air went still again.

Then Moi turned to Rilo, his hand still on Lian's.

"I have the boat, Rilo," he said. "We sail in two days. We will find Kezin. And you will put a stop to him."

Rilo nodded once, slow and absolute.

"I won't fail again," he said.

***

The moonlight glinted off polished stone floors and long hanging banners as a voice echoed through the marble hall.

"You can't be serious, Lord Jian Ye!" Mariko said, stepping forward, eyes wide with disbelief. Her formal robes were still dusted with travel, and her hair had begun to fall loose from its court styling. "There must be some misunderstanding, some delay. We can resolve this peacefully."

"Father, please, reconsider this," Gan Ye pleaded, standing beside her. "We have allies. The negotiations haven't ended."

But the older man stood tall, hands clasped behind his back as he looked out the wide open windows over the city.

"It is official," said Jian Ye. "Shuihan is no longer part of the Zhen Earth Kingdom."

[A/N: Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]