A quick heads-up because I know you guys pay attention to the details, and don't get me wrong, I like it.
Since chapter 3 I implemented the strengthening of Sokka's mind with Chi and the mind palace in 4 or 5 and it was mentioned in later chapters, without more to say, I hope you enjoy it And leave your support
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The morning after their encounter with the naval barricade, they arrived at a crescent-shaped island. The place was confirmed as their destination when they saw the temple and heard Aang say he recognized it from the spiritual journey he took with Roku.
Sokka looked at the place with regret. Just thinking that he would have to speak with Roku there put him in a bad mood. He wished Aang would speak with another Avatar—one who truly understood the real responsibilities of an Avatar. Someone like Kyoshi.
But Aang's inability to kill anyone was just as bad as listening to the previous Avatar's laments. Sooner or later, this would blow up in the boy's face.
Aang sent Appa to fly far from the island so the bison could get some well-deserved rest.
In front of the temple, the five Fire Sages were waiting for them, calm smiles on their faces.
—Welcome, Avatar —one of them greeted, bowing slightly. His calm smile set off a silent alarm in Sokka's head—. How may we serve you?
—You know me? —Aang asked, surprised. His voice was so clear and confident that Sokka almost rolled his eyes.
—Of course —the sage replied in a tone so sweet it sounded like he was speaking to a baby. That condescension didn't escape Sokka's notice either.
Something was off. He remembered these elders shouldn't be this… helpful. Nor should they know of their arrival. He was about to dig into his mental palace to recall details of the story when something caught his attention: the ground.
He only needed a second. For anyone else, that slight dip in the earth would be insignificant. For him, it was enough.
Footprints. Many. Eighty pairs, maybe more, clustered together, overlapping, erased and redone. Armed people hidden.
He thought about using his Chi-tracking, but shutting his eyes for ten seconds blind was tempting fate.
He turned his head toward Katara. She looked at him, alert. Sokka barely arched an eyebrow and moved his hand, imperceptibly pointing at the ground.
To his satisfaction, he saw her tense up and discreetly nod. Good. She was learning.
But they couldn't show it. So Sokka stepped forward, wrapped an arm around Katara's shoulders as if teasing her, and moved next to Aang.
—Well —he said, letting the mockery drip from his tongue—. You guys really are old, huh?
The insult hung in the air for a second before the five sages let out a polite laugh.
—Yes, young man. Our age gives us the wisdom you still seek —one of them said, bowing his head slightly. The fake humility showed in every wrinkle.
Sokka let out a low chuckle, patting Katara on the shoulder.
—Amazing, right? —he said, in that playful voice that for his sister was a knife full of hidden signals.
—Let's head inside —he added immediately, dropping his fool's mask—. Out here the sun is strong, and the Avatar has important things to do.
The sages laughed, falling right into his act.
—Please, follow us.
—Come on, Katara! Don't be such a buzzkill. How often do you see a place this beautiful? —The whiny tone was for them, but the words were for her: "Don't raise suspicion."
—Hey! I already told you not to call me that! —Katara replied, playing her part.
—If you don't want me to call you that, enjoy it more, little sister. I don't want these elders thinking you're ignorant about sacred places.
—You're the ignorant one!
—No, no —he shot back, shaking his head dramatically while ruffling her hair—. They think I am, but don't worry, I've got you covered.
And so, while Aang and the sages walked ahead, the two kept arguing. To the others, it was an annoying sibling quarrel. For them, it was a code exchange: act normal, they think you're weak, I'll watch your back.
As they walked, Sokka took advantage of the elders being distracted with Aang. He closed his eyes and let his chi flow through the surroundings. In seconds, reality hit him: just over eighty hostile points surrounded the place.
He couldn't help but smile at the situation. He had hoped this little detour would be quick, avoiding the same scene from the original—but he'd been wrong: it turned out worse.
He looked at Katara. She was right behind him, following like a shadow. He knew if he acted, she would too, without hesitation.
For a second, he considered annihilating the sages with a single blow. But that would prevent Aang from entering the sanctuary, and too many variables would spiral out of control. Besides, he still didn't know exactly what they were planning.
Fight in the narrow halls or lure them into open ground? Each place had its drawbacks, but he trusted his ability to fight in tight spaces.
Then he saw Shyu. The only decent sage. The old man looked at him with obvious nervousness, awkwardly moving his head, pointing to secret doors with gestures anyone else would overlook.
Stop being so obvious, idiot, Sokka thought as he waved at him, pretending to misinterpret every signal.
Taking advantage of everyone's distraction, he pulled out his spear and strapped it to his back. He trusted no one would notice—everyone was focused on Aang enough to forget if he had been carrying the spear from the start. Plus, Katara looked just as surprised as everyone else.
Sokka noticed how the wall of the great arch leading to the sanctuary's corridor had cracks and smirked mockingly.
When they reached the great door to Roku's sanctuary, the doors were open.
—Please, come in, Avatar Aang —one of the sages said, bowing slightly—. We'll close the doors behind you so you can speak with Roku without interruptions.
Sokka stood still. He wondered what these men were planning. Letting Aang in made no sense. What if he entered the Avatar State?
And then it all clicked.
That was their goal. Scenarios formed in his head in seconds, and finally, he understood why there were so many Fire Nation soldiers around. He understood why they hadn't attacked yet.
The sages somehow knew that if the Avatar died in the Avatar State, the line would end forever. But that wasn't public knowledge. Someone had told them.
It wasn't Zhao. Sokka was sure Zhao hadn't seen that in Wan Shi Tong's Great Library. So who?
A spirit. One that wanted to get rid of them. Or more specifically—him. The Evil Lady. She wanted him. And the only way to get him was to take him from the Avatar. How? By killing him.
She gave them the information so they'd do it for her.
That's why so many soldiers: they were there to kill him when he came out, vulnerable, in the Avatar State.
He knew he wasn't strong enough yet to kill that spirit. But he didn't care. Someday he would. In the meantime, these elders were another story: so weak, so fragile. A death wish ran through him like a current. But his murderous intentions hid behind a calm smile.
—Since you're sages, you must know everything, right? —Sokka asked. His voice sounded careless, almost amused. The spear hung from his shoulder, pointing at the ground in a lazy way. The sages let their guard down.
His clumsy way of walking fooled them. They dropped their guard before this foolish young man. For them, the stories of Zhao and the Evil Lady were exaggerations. Nothing more.
Whoosh!
Sokka moved through them calmly, a mocking smile on his lips. The sages' eyes widened, first in surprise, then in pure despair.
Shyu was the only one who didn't drop immediately. When he heard the gasps, he looked at his companions collapse to the ground. Their faces turned purple, suffocated from within. Shock filled the sage's body, who seemed unharmed.
—Relax —Sokka said casually, his face returning to its usual seriousness—. I just blocked the chi points in their necks. —His gaze locked onto Shyu's—. Tell me everything.
—A woman... a green woman came to us. She told us how to kill the Avatar for good. She promised eternal glory and that we'd be remembered as the legendary sages who ended the Avatar line —Shyu stammered, his voice trembling between fear and sincerity.
—Did you tell anyone else? The Fire Lord?
—N-no… they insisted we tell no one. The only one who knows and helps us is Zhao. The spirit woman planned it all.
Sokka closed his eyes and let out a long, heavy sigh—impossible to read. Relief? Annoyance? Even he didn't know.
—Just as I thought… When people like her get involved, everything gets complicated —he murmured.
—What do you mean? —Katara cut in, worried—. Do you know her?
Sokka opened his eyes after several seconds, wearing a smile that didn't reach his eyes.
—Ah, you know me. Sometimes I attract a few crazy women. But this one… this one in particular is after me for being a strong nonbender —he stressed the non so Katara wouldn't let his secret slip.
But his sister's attention shifted to something else. At first, she thought he was joking. But she remembered how Suki fell for him despite all his nonsense. And she understood he was serious.
—You're not cheating on Suki, are you?
—Hey, you make it sound like we have something serious —Sokka shot back, almost offended—. And I told you already: that crazy woman wants me, not the other way around.
Katara narrowed her eyes, suspicious.
—Just don't be an idiot who hurts a woman.
—Great, now you're getting into my love life? —he retorted, raising his voice a bit.
—Love life? Please, why would I get into something that doesn't even exist?
—Because you can be such a gossip —Sokka said, throwing his arms out.
—What did you call me?!
Despite the argument, Katara felt a chill. The way Sokka spoke, how he sharpened every word, sounded like something deeper, something they couldn't say out loud.
One thought crossed her mind: Are they listening to us?
Meanwhile, Shyu watched them, petrified. Just a moment ago they were talking about killing the Avatar, and now they were arguing over some domestic nonsense. He froze.
—Excuse me... —he dared to say, timid—. Could you keep it down? All this noise could...
—Shut up and stay out of our business! —the siblings yelled in unison, like one voice.
Shyu decided not to open his mouth again. But something gnawed at him inside: by now, the soldiers below should have heard the noise… and they still hadn't come up. What the hell was happening here?
Below the floor, in a different room, Zhao lay in wait. Half of his face was burned and he was missing an arm.
He stared with indescribable fury at his prisoner, chained up: Zuko. The soldiers had captured him just minutes ago, but when Zhao arrived—almost at the same time—he was the highest-ranking man, so they handed Zuko over without hesitation.
—I almost didn't recognize you, Zhao —Zuko spat, dripping venom at the man's pitiful state—. Finally ran into someone willing to kill you?
His tone was pure mockery. His pride intact: he had come to capture the Avatar, and trash like Zhao wouldn't stop him.
The man clenched his teeth as a flame burst from his only hand. He was unable to control his rage—if he ever could. He still remembered the brutal humiliation when his own men rebelled, shouting all sorts of things: Monster, idiot, murderer... But none of that mattered. The only real thing in that moment was fear. Pure fear, fear of death. His only way out had been to scream for help like a wounded dog. Luckily, another ship rescued him… and the Spirit Lady healed him. Or at least what was left of him.
Above, on the upper floor, Sokka kept up his most basic chi scan: enough to feel the energy flow of everyone around him without having to close his eyes.
While arguing with Katara, he felt Zhao's chi. On the warship he hadn't had the chance to kill him, so he manipulated the soldiers to do it for him. But seeing they'd failed, maybe now he could finish the job with his own hands… and enjoy every second of Zhao's despair.
He counted on that incompetent fool leading the soldiers, on him being wounded, furious, and thirsty for revenge. That would make his orders a mess and focus him only on Sokka, ignoring Aang.
But it was all speculation. So when he felt Zhao's chi approaching with many more, he acted first. He pulled out several water pouches and strapped them onto Katara's body: back, abdomen, legs. Each one well-placed not to restrict her movement. They were light, practical, ready for what was coming.
Shyu's jaw dropped when he saw Sokka pull an endless stream of things from a simple pouch at his waist.
—Shyu —Sokka said quickly—, when you wake up, tell the Fire Lord that I knocked you out and you don't remember anything else. Got it?
—What…? —the old man stammered, but his words died when Sokka gently struck his neck, dropping him like a sack of rice.
—Seriously! —Katara protested, half angry, half scared—. And how the hell do you pull so much stuff from that tiny bag?
Sokka looked at her like she'd grown a second head.
—I told Tiga and Gran-Gran I got a storage spirit. I thought they told you.
—They did! But I thought it was a joke! —Katara snapped, incredulous.
—I'll explain later. —His tone hardened. He looked at the entrance arch: the only way in or out. Zhao was about to cross it, with at least thirty men.
The Southern leader opened his eyes, feigning surprise. Katara covered her mouth, half scared, half amused.
—Hahaha… finally, Zhao, your outside matches your rotten insides. You should thank your stylists —Sokka mocked, with that venomous coldness he reserved for moments like this.
—Shut up, you damn bastard! It's your fault I look like this! —Zhao spat. His voice spilled broken through burned flesh and exposed bone in his jaw.
Sokka was reminded of a certain sinister villain from a bat-themed man. He held back a laugh.
—I'll kill you, bastard! You and your entire family!
Katara froze at the sight of the man's deranged rage.
—Sure… as long as your men don't betray you… again —Sokka shot back. Each word like a knife, relishing seeing him boil.
But something caught his attention: a young man chained to a pillar, humiliated.
—Hey, Zuko. Did the cat catch you? —he mocked.
Zuko shot him a venomous glare but quickly looked away, trying to hide his shame.
Sokka noticed how Zhao and his thirty men blocked almost the entire entrance arch, leaving the other soldiers outside, crammed, unable to get in.
A crooked smile spread across his face. He grabbed his spear, muscles tense beneath scarred skin.
Zhao swallowed hard. For a second, his whole body froze as he saw Sokka raise the spear with terrifying calm. He tried to shout an order, but the spear whistled first, slicing through the air and lodging in the wall just above his head.
—HAHA! Stupid brat! —Zhao bellowed, spitting broken laughs of madness—. You missed and now you're unarmed!
Sokka tilted his head, his voice cold as the South Pole wind. —Are you sure? Why don't you take another look?
Zhao looked down. A tremor clenched his neck as he saw how the cracks spread like veins from the spear.
—Move! —he howled, his voice a crow's croak. —Run, it's coming down!
With a brutal crack, the wall came crashing down like thunder. Stone, dust, and rubble rained mercilessly on several soldiers who didn't jump in time. The entrance was sealed, trapping them inside with Zhao… cut off from the rest.
Sokka slammed a soldier's head into the ground with a kick as he leapt through the debris and retrieved his spear. A hoarse laugh escaped his throat. He smiled with glee. He'd solved the numbers problem. They couldn't get through now. But the problem was Aang. He didn't remember it taking this long in the original. He had to hold out.
Zhao, with half his face burned, let out a desperate roar. —Kill him! Kill him now! —he spat, pushing the few remaining forward. The soldiers charged with a scream trembling more with fear than courage.
Sokka lunged at the first one. He deflected a fire blast with the spear's blade, spun on himself, and drove the tip into the man's shoulder, sending him rolling on the floor, screaming. Another soldier came straight at him with fire daggers. Sokka tilted his head, let the blade pass a hair from his cheek, and slammed his elbow into the man's throat. A hollow crack. Silence.
Beside him, Katara stepped back, hands steady. She remembered the water pouches Sokka had strapped on her and burst them one by one. Water, her only shield. She spread it out, formed sloppy but precise whips. One struck a soldier's helmet, spun him on his heels, and slammed him into a wall. She froze the next one on his knees, locked his arms, and shoved him on his back.
—Katara, left! —Sokka shouted.
She turned just in time. Two soldiers lunged at her. Katara, with a roar that nearly tore her throat, burst the water in a strike that knocked them down. They rolled on the floor, unconscious.
Sokka was silently proud. Katara wasn't a master yet, but right then she was a living wall between him and the rest.
A soldier, trembling, managed to grab her from behind. Katara shrieked, slammed her elbow back, felt ribs crack. A second later, Sokka appeared, driving the base of his spear into the attacker's leg. The man collapsed without a sound.
Sokka, for his part, had no qualms about killing these men… But he didn't want Katara to see him as a bloodthirsty man, and even less risk that if Aang came out in the Avatar State, he'd attack him for seeing a floor covered in corpses. So he didn't kill. He severed tendons, smas
hed ribs, broke legs. Each blow was a reminder that he could do far worse… but chose not to. For them.
Zuko, chained to a pillar, breathed fast. His good eye darted from Sokka to Katara, incredulous.
This idiot… he thought angrily.
But the way Sokka spun, thrust his spear, blocked the fire, it was almost like a dance. Zuko couldn't help but swallow.
"—Idiot…" he snarled, his voice cracking with rage. "If it weren't for you, the Avatar would be mine…"
A roar cut him off. Zhao hurled a massive fire blast. Sokka split it in two with a sweeping slash of his spear. The flames died against the walls.
A soldier came up behind Katara. She sensed him, turned clumsily—but Sokka was already there, driving his knee into the man's gut. The soldier dropped to his knees, unconscious.
"—Stay alert, Katara!" he barked without looking at her.
She only nodded, breathing hard, refusing to back away.
With a new shout, she solidified the water and hurled it like icy spikes at two soldiers' hands, blocking the flames before they could ignite.
The soldiers began to retreat. Zhao panicked.
"—They're just two! Kill them! It's just a boy and a girl!" he roared, spit flying with each word.
But the men saw Sokka: drenched in sweat, splattered with blood that wasn't his, spear dripping, eyes fixed like a wolf's. They saw Katara, trembling but standing tall, shattering every spark of fire that got close. And for the first time—they hesitated.
Sokka drew a deep breath. The heat of battle thundered in his chest. He couldn't lose focus. Not now.
Almost there. Aang would come out any moment now.
And when that happened… Zhao would never be a problem again.
With a sharp twist, he hurled his spear, leapt to catch it, and slammed the base into the helmet of a fleeing soldier, dropping him face-first.
Zuko watched the scene, a frustrated growl stuck in his throat.
"—Idiots…" he spat, unable to move, hating more than anything that he wasn't the one tearing Zhao apart with his own hands.
Sokka blinked, locked eyes with Zuko and gave him a sideways grin—like he could read his mind.
"—Relax, Prince," he muttered, twirling his spear, ready for the next wave. "This idiot's mine."
When he finally stood before Zhao, caring about nothing but his death, he stared him dead in the eye. He saw the terror—and the regret. Regret for ever crossing Sokka.
His spear rose high, ready to sever his head—
But it stopped cold. Green vines had wrapped around it.
Sokka stared in surprise just before he was yanked toward a beautiful green woman. His glare turned murderous as he used the momentum, leaping at her; two knives flashed for her neck—but she dodged with mocking amusement.
With his left arm, he slashed upward at the Wicked Lady, who slipped back a step to dodge again—but Sokka wasn't a one-trick fighter.
Pivoting his hips and right leg, he drove a kick into her abdomen. His Chi-fortified leg unleashed its energy on impact, injuring her—or at least making it hurt.
"—Ohh~ boy," the Wicked Lady cooed with clear delight, licking her lower lip. "You just make me want you even more~. I know it's bad to be greedy, but you bring out the worst in me~."
Sokka shuddered at her words. He knew she was lying about only the last part—she would do anything to have him.
His chances of destroying her were slim—he'd have to give it everything to kill her before he was forced to bend water.
Gripping his spear tight, he began infusing it with Chi; a faint glow wrapped it as it started to vibrate.
The female spirit let out a moan of pleasure when Sokka appeared before her in a blink, his spear inches from her throat.
She let it pass, crashing into the ground; when the spear struck rock, a small Chi shockwave burst out, making her stagger clumsily.
Sokka seized the moment, recharging his fists and legs with Chi.
With inhuman speed, he lunged—two sharp strikes smashed into the spirit's face. Her features warped slightly as small Chi waves burst on impact. She watched in rapture as green liquid dripped from her nose.
But that wasn't all—another kick slammed into her abdomen. This time, Sokka felt something crack inside her.
She had a skeletal system—at least something like it—otherwise his blows would've torn through her green flesh from the first strike.
"—Ohh darling~, it's been centuries since a man touched me like this," she purred, rubbing her side. Sokka guessed it was a cracked rib.
"—Shut up, you freak!"
Shaking off the disgust, he attacked again. His reinforced fist flew with deadly precision for her face, but the Wicked Lady intercepted it with her own.
A shockwave erupted as their fists collided; her greenish arm split in two, thick green liquid spilling out—only to knit back together within seconds.
Everyone present watched with different emotions.
Zhao—elated, seeing the spirit woman toying with Sokka.
Zuko—disbelieving that such power was possible without elemental bending.
And Katara—worried but hopeful. She knew how unbelievably strong her brother was; she'd seen him train endlessly, haul blocks of ice and metal on his shoulders like children, crush metal plates and solid ice with his bare hands. She knew—one way or another—her brother would win.
"—Sokka…" Katara finally whispered.
With a spinning kick, Sokka tore a chunk of skin from the spirit's face and watched furiously as it healed in seconds.
She slipped past his next strike and drove a punch at the young non-bender's gut.
Sokka saw it coming—his danger sense roaring louder than ever—he forced his Chi into his abdomen and clenched his teeth hard.
The blow landed, accompanied by a flash that pushed them apart. The Wicked Lady stared at her own fist, impressed, her skin damaged and streaked with her blood.
Sokka spat blood instantly. Though the Chi had shielded him from most of the punch, the shockwave tore his insides slightly.
He saw her stretch out her hand as a swarm of vines shot toward him at speed.
He grabbed his spear and spun it, slicing through them with precision as he closed in on her—she watched him with playful hunger, letting him come, sure of her victory.
Sokka knew it too—so he bet it all on his luck, burning like a sun.
Standing right before her, he kicked her face again, this time obliterating her eyes. As fast as his body allowed, he sliced off the spirit's arms in a single move and jammed two Chi-charged knives into the bleeding stumps.
For the first time in the fight—she let out a scream of real pain.
Sokka, caring for nothing but his sister's safety, unleashed every ounce of his power and speed.
His arms glowed so fiercely that veins and bones shone through his luminous skin.
The Wicked Lady stared in shock as her eyes regenerated—her heart pounded as Sokka slammed blow after blow at superhuman speed.
Two, three, seven, then eleven strikes per second—her body, once regenerating faster than his hits, now fell behind.
The knives in her arms prevented regrowth and her hair was shredded by the impacts—leaving only one strand pinning her to the floor.
Sokka's heartbeat thundered as he felt tendons and cartilage tear more and more; his bones splintered painfully with each blow, Chi pressing agonizing force through his limbs.
Katara, Zhao, and Zuko watched—stunned, terrified; Katara, too, with a swelling sadness.
Finally, with a strike to the woman's heart, a Chi blast exploded.
Her shredded torso, riddled with holes and only half a face left, still looked at Sokka—this time shocked, with a flicker of fear.
The knives fell dim from her arms as she slowly began to heal.
Sokka's breath came ragged—gasping for air, he watched her regenerate inch by inch. With one last blow, he drove his fist into the woman's chest—a glow filled the room once more.
Sokka had started to drain her Chi.
It was vast, nearly endless—but he used it to mend his shattered body. With sickening cracks, Sokka's and the Wicked Lady's bones knit and healed slowly.
In desperation—or something else—the spirit drove a vine into the Southern leader's chest, missing his heart; her aim was to cause pain, force him to release her.
"—Sokka!" Katara screamed, ready to run to him—but he looked at her. His eyes begged her not to come closer.
"—Damn you—if you want me, then take all of me!" the Wicked Lady snarled as her energy drained faster and faster.
She pressed a finger to Sokka's forehead—his vision went black.
The Wicked Lady loved to invade her prey's minds—possess them, devour all their energy from within.
She relished hearing screams of fear and agony while she played and shattered their memories—but this time was different.
The moment her Chi and mind entered Sokka's head, she was swallowed by an abyss of darkness—she couldn't tell if her eyes were open or closed.
Yet amid the endless dark, she saw one thing clear as day: Sokka, standing in the center of it all, staring down at her with utter disdain.
Suddenly, a strange sound echoed. To Sokka it was nothing—he barely heard a distant alarm—but the Wicked Lady heard it reverberate through her mind.
She dropped to the ground, clutching her ears, trying to block the sound—but it was impossible; in seconds the noise turned shrill, needles stabbing her brain as her ears, unable to burst, started to bleed.
"—You shouldn't have come here. I've spent more time training and fortifying my mind than my body, woman," Sokka's voice, cold as ice, boomed in her ears, louder than the hellish noise.
"—Please, make it stop!" she finally screamed in desperation. "Please! I'll do anything—sign a contract if I have to!"
The words slipped out in her agonized panic—words she'd regret forever.
Sokka's brow rose, curious. "—A contract?"
"—Yes! Anything you want, I'll do it!"
As if her words flipped a switch, a glowing scroll appeared before Sokka. A thread of light connected it to the spirit and to him—he sensed it linked their souls.
A thousand ways to exploit this crossed his mind—with this, he'd control a powerful, ancient spirit—though he doubted the 'powerful' part. She might hold secrets or things he could use.
Quickly, he wrote:
She must obey Sokka's words and orders as absolute law.
She cannot betray or harm him or his allies, by will or accident.
Sokka is free to inflict on her the same pain she feels now.
Lastly, if Sokka wishes to kill her, she cannot resist—and if she dies, she will never be reborn.
With the best rules he could craft on the spot, he signed it—and it floated calmly toward the Wicked Lady.
She waited in agony—never once spared from the torment—finally signing it in desperation.
As she did, a chain of light formed around her neck and linked to Sokka's chest, marking him as master of the Wicked Lady—also called the Spirit of Conflict, or Naenia.
Outside Sokka's mental palace, at the same time—
Katara screamed as she saw the green woman's wicked grin, her finger poised to pierce her brother's head.
In an instant, she froze the water into a razor-sharp blade and launched it at her enemy's head.
For the first time in her life—and without even realizing it—she was ready to kill. She didn't care. She only wanted to save her brother's life.
But in a heartbeat, Naenia's smile vanished, replaced by a scowl of fury and disbelief.
With a flick of her hair, she stopped the ice spike inches from her forehead—while Sokka's hand inside her chest ceased glowing.
"—HAHA! I, Zhao, will be the killer of the Avatar and the Moon!" The despicable commander's euphoric voice filled the chamber as Katara covered her mouth in sorrow.
"—I will be!..."
His voice cut off when Naenia, annoyed, flicked her hair and cleanly sliced off his head—drenching her green vines in red.
Katara watched, confused, as Sokka withdrew his hand from the woman's chest, which began healing swiftly.
"—Sokka!" Katara cried in relief, hugging him with tears in her eyes.
"—Hey, hey, it's okay, it's all okay," her brother soothed, ruffling her hair.
But she glared at Naenia with caution and fury, ready to strike again.
"—Easy—she's not our enemy anymore. Naenia, get out of here and wait for my orders."
Naenia looked at him with submission—and for a moment, a flicker of rage—before vanishing into the stone floor.
As if on cue, the Sanctuary door to Roku opened, revealing Aang with a worried look. He wasn't in the Avatar State—Sokka guessed there'd been no need with no enemies left.
"—How'd it go in there, Aang? Did he tell you anything important?" Sokka asked, clutching his side with mild pain.
"—Yeah—he told me how the war started and that I have to end it before Sozin's Comet comes and..."
His voice trailed off when he saw Zhao's head on the floor, frozen in terror.
Aang shot a reproachful glare at Sokka, who hugged Katara, apparently oblivious to the Avatar's look.
"—Relax, Katara. He was just a bad man killed by another bad woman—no need to feel sorry for him." Sokka's words were carefully chosen to make it clear to Aang that he hadn't killed him.
The Avatar quickly dropped the glare—his expression shifting to guilt and shame.
"—Did Roku say anything else?"
"—N-no… nothing else."
Sokka stared for a moment, then smiled. "—Good. Let's get out of here."
Aang nodded as Sokka broke the floor, helping Aang and Katara down.
Sokka suspected Roku had mentioned him—otherwise, Aang wouldn't have hesitated or thrown him that scornful look. Still, he chose not to dwell on it now and turned to Zuko.
The exiled prince glared, but for a moment—a flicker of fear crossed his eyes. "—What do you want?"
"—Nothing from you… yet." Sokka replied calmly, tapping Zuko's arms and legs gently, starting to free him from the chains.
"—What did you do to me?!" Zuko barked angrily.
"—Numbed your nerves. That way you can't move for about ten minutes—gives you time to escape safely," he said, rummaging through his small cloth pouch.
"—Escape?"
"—Yeah, from this." He pointed at a small barrel of explosive jelly. "The fuse is long enough—twelve minutes." He said, lighting it.
Zuko stared like he was insane. "—Come on, don't look at me like that. I'm warning you—giving you a chance to run. Unlike those idiots trapped by my last fight. Besides—your uncle's a good man. That's why I'm letting you go."
Sokka's playful tone bewildered the exiled prince as he watched him walk off, dragging one of the Fire Sages with him.
Once Sokka left Shyu in a chamber far from the blast, he climbed onto Appa.
"—Let me try to heal you, Sokka," Katara said, worried.
Aang watched, confused. He'd seen the unconscious people in the temple, but didn't know why Sokka was so hurt. "—Can someone tell me what happened?"
Sokka met his eyes, hiding his annoyance, as he began explaining what had happened—or at least part of it.
Inside the temple, Zuko watched in desperation as the fuse burned closer to the explosive jelly. He struggled for his limbs to obey.
"—I can't die before fulfilling my destiny!"
he roared, finally managing to move his legs.
With renewed determination—driven by sheer desperation—he reached a wall with a hole.
He leapt into the sea just as the explosion ripped through the air. Maybe Sokka's timing had been off—but he didn't blame him.