Six years had passed since the Fire Nation fell.
The Four Nations were healing. The cities were being rebuilt. The Southern Water Tribe had begun its restoration, and Republic City was in the earliest stages of design. For once in over a hundred years, there was hope.
But peace had grown too quiet.
In the heart of the Fire Nation, deep within the Ember Island estate of Fire Lord Zuko, five individuals sat in somber silence. Aang, Katara, Toph, Sokka, and Zuko himself—each wearing expressions more suited for wartime councils than old friends catching up.
"I didn't call you here to reminisce," Zuko said, pacing in front of a large map nailed to the far wall. "Something's wrong. Something's off."
Aang nodded slowly. "I've felt it too… in the spirit world. The last time I meditated, I was met with resistance—like the realm itself didn't want me there."
"You sure that's not just bad vibes from a grumpy turtle lion?" Sokka joked weakly, though no one laughed. He slumped forward, fiddling with a boomerang charm he hadn't worn in years.
"It's not just the spirit world," Katara said, exchanging a glance with Aang. "The ocean currents have changed near the South Pole. The tides shift unpredictably, and the waters are colder. Too cold—even for our lands."
Toph, who'd been unusually quiet, finally spoke up. "I felt a quake near Gaoling three days ago. A deep one. Felt… wrong. The earth trembled like it was in pain. That doesn't just happen."
Aang stood and walked to the center of the room. He looked older now—more than his seventeen years would suggest. His shoulders were heavier, his eyes burdened by knowledge few could understand. "Something is disrupting the balance. It's not political… or environmental. It's spiritual."
Zuko crossed his arms. "Spirits have become more active, even violent, across the Fire Nation's outer islands. A shrine in Kyoshi burned down without flame. A mountain monk claimed a spirit of the wind passed over his temple and took the air from their lungs."
Katara shivered. "These things aren't random."
"They're not," Aang confirmed. "I spoke with Avatar Roku. Briefly. He couldn't stay long. He said, 'The balance has cracked… something foreign has entered the cycle.' Then he vanished."
Toph's brows furrowed. "Foreign?"
"I don't think he meant a nation," Zuko said. "Something else."
"Someone," Aang said, and silence followed.
Sokka looked up. "Wait. You're saying there's a person out there who's causing all this? Like, an evil Avatar 2.0?"
"Not the Avatar," Aang said. "But powerful. And not tied to the cycle. I don't know what they are, but I think… I felt them. When I entered the Spirit World last moon, something pushed back."
Zuko stepped toward the map. "Where?"
Aang's eyes scanned the map, then he pointed to a region in the western Earth Kingdom—vast forests, scattered villages, mostly unremarkable. "Here. Around the forests of Ba Sing Se's outer territories. I can't be exact."
Toph frowned. "That's where the quake hit."
Katara stepped forward. "If this person is real—if they're disrupting the balance—then what do we do?"
Aang's jaw tightened. "I find them. I talk to them. I make them understand."
"And if they don't?" Zuko asked, voice low.
Aang closed his eyes. "Then I do what the Avatar must."
Far away, in a forgotten forest where no road reached and no map marked, a fire crackled softly beneath a canopy of stars.
Fang Yuan sat in meditation, the cold wind brushing against his skin. His breathing was calm. Controlled. The flame danced in response to his presence—not like firebending, not yet—but as though it recognized him.
He opened his eyes slowly, his brow slightly furrowed. He didn't know why, but he felt… observed.
Somewhere, something had shifted. He didn't have the words for it, but his instincts sharpened. The weight in the air was heavier now. Like the world was starting to wake up to the truth of his existence.
But it was still blind.
And he… was still hidden.