13 BG
Tanza, age 7
Months had passed since the incident in the spirit realm. While a great deal had shifted between Tanza and her Master—calling it an understatement was a massive understatement—the core reality remained. Kelsang was the only person alive who knew, at least vaguely, that Tanza was not just an 'old soul of the wind' as the temple elders had claimed.
Kelsang didn't know the exact truth of her past lives, and Tanza was perfectly satisfied to keep it that way. Keeping the details vague while offering just enough surface truth explained her intense, un-childlike demeanor. It made survival easier. But politics aside, she still needed to master the art of airbending.
Stepping into the damp snow behind their guest igloo, Tanza dug her boots deep into the frost. For months, she had been practicing the basic, heavy forms Granny Kusede taught her alongside Nalu and Renu. Today, she was fine-tuning the foundational waterbending concept: the push and the pull.
She closed her eyes and steadied her breath.
Push.
Tanza extended her palms. Her movements were slow, deliberate, and circular. Her hands cupped the empty atmosphere, and the wind responded with a heavy, visible ripple. A low, bass-heavy hum resonated through the courtyard as a wave of dense air surged forward, perfectly mimicking the crushing swell of an ocean wave.
She rotated her wrists, drawing her hands smoothly back toward her chest. Pull.
The wind wave broke against an imaginary shore and rolled back. She could actually feel the air now—it possessed a distinct, physical weight, dragging across her skin like a thick, pressurized cloud. As the current swept inward, Tanza leaned into the familiar friction of the Southern waterbending style.
But she didn't let the momentum die. Halfway through her secret tutoring, Kusede had introduced a basic water-whip form, leaving Tanza to adapt the kinetic energy to her own element.
She shifted her weight. Her boots slid a fraction of an inch into the snow, anchoring her core. She narrowed her eyes at a wooden post positioned twenty feet away.
With a sharp intake of breath, she snapped her right hand behind her, drawing the thick, condensed air into a tight spiral around her arm. The air pressure spiked so rapidly that her eardrums popped. Then, she lashed out.
Crack.
The air whip sliced forward. The impact was deafening—a heavy, concussive boom that sent splinters exploding from the center of the wooden post.
Tanza smiled proudly, dusting a stray flake of snow off her robes.
Between this fluid Southern flow and her Fire Sage basics, she now had a unique repertoire ready to cultivate into a brand-new style of airbending—one forged from the strengths of different nations. After all, wind was supposed to be free and unchained, not trapped in a single, rigid tradition. At least, that was what her own experiences had proven right so far.
But as Tanza relaxed her stance and stood with her hands on her hips, her thoughts drifted back to the day after the solstice, right after Kelsang had guided her back to the physical world via meditation. She had asked her master a burning question: how exactly had Kelsang breached the stable hangar? Tanza remembered passing through the glowing moss by relying on her raw, protective connection to Hachi, but she could guess a few ideas of how her master had followed.
Her master had blinked at that, looked unsure what to say for a few seconds, before answering.
Sitting inside their guest igloo the next morning, her master had blinked at the question, looking uncharacteristically unsure of what to say.
"...I..." Kelsang had paused, weighing her words before fully responding. "Well, the entrance was easier for you and Valik to bypass initially. But once you forced your way through, the moss grew much denser. To get inside, I had to resort to a private project... a part of my own ongoing training." Her master smiled a bit at that, a flash of genuine pride crossing her face at her own success.
"Training?" Tanza had asked, her mind instantly alert. "What kind of airbending helped you cut through spirit-moss?"
Kelsang didn't answer immediately. She looked up at the ice ceiling, as if pondering how much to share, before looking back down at her student.
"Tanza, what I used... is not something that an Air Nomad normally learns about," Kelsang said, her smile shifting into that of a true, dedicated teacher ready to pass on a dangerous secret. "Even now, I am but a novice at it. But if you truly want to know... it is energybending. Something older than the Avatar themselves."
Tanza tilted her head, waiting for more.
Kelsang leaned forward, her voice dropping into a whisper. "Years ago, when I was wandering the outer seas, a massive storm blew me off course. I found myself washed up on a remote, hidden island... one belonging to ancient sages who have kept themselves isolated from the troubles of the world. In their hidden archives, I found scrolls detailing how the first humans could bend the very energy inside themselves before the four elements even existed. I have been practicing it in secret ever since."
Tanza's mind immediately seized on the information. A hidden island filled with ancient, unmapped archives was a massive discovery! "Where is this island?" she asked, keeping her voice low and even. "Can it be reached by a standard sea route?"
Kelsang looked at her student for a long moment, studying Tanza's intense focus. A small, knowing smile tugged at the corner of her lips, though her eyes remained serious.
"It lies far to the east, tucked away in the deep, volcanic waters of the outer archipelago," Kelsang answered softly, giving just enough detail for Tanza to picture it on a global map. "The currents around it are treacherous, and the jagged reefs keep large ships far away. It is a place of deep quiet."
Before Tanza could ask another question though, Kelsang leaned in closer, the warmth leaving her face, replaced by absolute gravity.
"But you must listen to me, Tanza. You cannot look for it, and you cannot mention its existence to anyone. Not to the other visiting Air Masters, not to Chief Dovru, not even to your friends in the village." Kelsang placed a gentle but firm hand on Tanza's shoulder. "The sages live in total isolation for a reason. If the rest of the world learned about the knowledge they guard, the balance of the nations would be thrown into chaos. This stays between us. Do you understand?"
Tanza looked down at her master's hand, then back up into Kelsang's serious eyes. "I understand, Master," Tanza said with a nod. "It stays between us."
She had reasonably agreed. Given the certainty of future global conflicts, it was best to keep her word to her master. Besides, since the island was naturally protected by the treacherous sea and jagged reefs, it was better to err on the safe side.
The ambition of humanity was never one to back down from danger or challenges. When it came to the Fire Nation, Tanza could easily imagine them eagerly sacrificing countless naval ships just to chart a path to an island holding the ancient secrets of the world.
If anything, she would not be surprised if there was an actual ancient library out there, much like the Library of Alexandria, tended entirely by spirits. After all, this strange new world was certainly shaping up to be exactly that kind of place.
But the sound of light, hurried footsteps crunching around the corner of the igloo cut off her thoughts. Tanza turned to see who it was, pushing her musings aside for another time.
Running into the clearing with urgent looks on their faces were Nalu and Renu. Nalu, who had turned nine just last month, and her older sister Renu, who had turned ten three months ago, sprinted toward her.
"Tanza, Tanza!" Nalu cried out.
"Zetida's momma is bringing Zetida's sister home from the seal-lion delivery!" Renu gasped out right after.
The two girls reached her, bent over with their hands on their knees, huffing deeply to catch their breath. Tanza stared at them, suddenly reminding herself of the local folklore. Children in the South Pole were told that babies were delivered by giant seal-lions until their parents decided they were old enough to know the biological truth.
Tanza blinked as the two girls straightened up with excited grins. She remembered that Ayiri—Zetida's mother, Chief Dovru's wife, and Granny Kusede's daughter—had indeed been pregnant for the past nine months.
"And?" Tanza asked, raising an eyebrow. She wasn't entirely sure what a newborn child had to do with her.
Nalu let out an amused, breathless laugh and walked over, grabbing Tanza's arm to tug her along. "Come on! Your master is helping be the midwife—whatever that means—and she asked for you to help us bring some clean towels!"
Tanza allowed herself to be dragged along, her boots crunching rhythmically against the packed snow as they hurried toward the Chief's large igloo. "But why did they call my master?" Tanza asked, genuinely curious. "Shouldn't Granny Kusede be the one who handled the matter?"
"Oh, Granny is doing the hard work," Renu explained, looking back over her shoulder with wide, excited eyes. "But Chief Dovru said it's the greatest luck in the world to have an Air Master in the room when a baby is delivered! He said a blessing from a monk means the baby will have a long, healthy life and good fortune!"
Ah, that's right, she had actually forgotten that small part of the nomadic culture of airbenders. Throughout the world, Air Nomads were treated like walking symbols of good luck. Peasants and nobility alike would beg traveling monks to bless their crops, their weddings, and their newborns.
They reached the entrance just as Granny Kusede stepped through the thick fur curtains. She wore a tired but thoroughly satisfied look, though her hands were stained a wet, stark red. Tanza immediately recognized it as the mess of childbirth, but Nalu and Renu instantly panicked.
"Granny, you're hurt!" Nalu cried, running faster.
Kusede let out a hearty chuckle. "Far from hurt, children. Just had to... wrangle a beast from a cave." She chose her words carefully, keeping the grim reality from their young ears.
Nalu reached her first, holding her clean towel up high. "Really? Then here, you should clean up!"
"Where's the beast, Granny?!" Renu asked as she caught up with her sister, looking around the snowy courtyard with wide eyes.
Kusede shook her head, an amused smile on her face as she accepted Nalu's towel and began wiping the fluid from her hands. "Don't worry about the beast now. Just stay out here, and hand me the rest of your towels, dearies," she insisted.
Renu and her sister nodded quickly, handing their bundles over to Kusede after the elderly woman tossed the freshly soiled towel over her shoulder. Once Tanza reached them, she stepped up silently and held her own clean towel up for Kusede to take as well.
Kusede thanked them, instructing them to wait outside until she and the other women finished cleaning the newborn after its delivery. Nalu innocently asked why a seal-lion delivery had to be so messy, but before the elder could answer, a sharp, high-pitched baby wail pierced through the thick fur curtains of the igloo.
Kusede let out a soft tut, remarking that her daughter had just managed to calm the child down. With the fresh towels bundled in her arms, she turned and hurried back inside.
Left standing in the cold, Tanza could hear the muffled, gentle cooing of Ayiri echoing from within the ice walls. "There, there, mama's here. You're in mama's arms..." Slowly, the frantic wailing settled into a quiet hum.
This left Nalu and Renu free to chatter with excitement. "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?!" Nalu asked, bouncing on her heels.
Renu shrugged her shoulders, her smile widening. "I don't know! We have to wait until we can go in and see for ourselves!"
Nalu then turned her wide, wonder-filled eyes directly toward Tanza. "So, how are babies delivered at your temple, Tanza? My granny Hima says airbenders get their babies from the sky bison!"
Tanza tightly controlled her expression to keep her eye from twitching. She actually remembered hearing that exact conversation during her toddler years back at the Western Temple. Whenever a young student asked the elders where babies came from, the official answer was always that a winged lemur rode in on a sky bison to drop off the newborn airbender.
"Something like that..." Tanza responded dryly, letting the thought pass.
Soon though, Chief Dovru finally made his way around the corner of the building just as their conversation settled. A deeply tired, worried look was etched across his face. All three girls whirled around to see him approaching with an awkward, heavy tension in his steps, and a brief silence fell over the snowy courtyard.
Nalu broke it instantly, bounding over to the Chief with boundless energy. "Congratulations on the new baby!" she gushed in excitement.
A small, genuine smile finally cracked through Dovru's anxious expression. "Thank you, little one."
"Yeah!" Renu chime in next, counting on her fingers. "This makes three kids now, right?!"
The Chief nodded, a flash of deep, quiet pride replacing his exhaustion for a fleeting second. "Mhm. That it does..."
Tanza watched him silently. In truth, she had completely assumed Zetida was an only child, a minor error on her part. She had never bothered to ask about Zetida's extended family details during her stay here. She wouldn't actually find out the full truth until the end of the winter, when the spring thaw arrived. Dovru actually had a second-born child—a son named Horok, a year younger than Zetida—who was currently staying at a village in the Earth Kingdom and wouldn't return until the ice broke.
But back in the freezing present, Dovru let out a heavy, tired sigh. He raised a gloved hand, scratching the back of his neck as he looked toward the thick fur curtains of the igloo.
"They still cleaning up in there?" he asked, his voice thick with a father's exhaustion. It was entirely evident from the state of him that he had been pacing the perimeter of the camp for hours, consumed by worry for his wife and the arrival of their third child.
As if to answer his question, the thick fur sheets of the entrance parted. Master Kelsang stepped out into the crisp polar air, a soft, relieved smile gracing her features as she looked at the waiting group.
"Alright, that should do it," Kelsang sighed, nodding warmly to them all. "Feel free to go in and see the baby. But please, be exceptionally quiet. She is sleeping peacefully with her mother, who is very tired."
Nalu and Renu gasped, immediately shushing each other. They began to tiptoe toward the entrance, lifting their knees high and moving as if their absolute lives depended on maintaining total silence for the baby.
Their dramatic exit left Tanza, Kelsang, and Dovru outside. Kelsang turned her attention fully to the Chief, her smile softening with deep kindness. "You should be very proud of your wife, Dovru. She had a perfectly healthy delivery. And even better, you have a beautiful, healthy baby girl."
At those words, it looked as if every single ounce of tension instantly drained from the Chief's body. He sagged backward, collapsing heavily against the solid ice wall of the building. He palmed his forehead, his shoulders dropping as his gloved hands rose to cover his face completely.
"Oh, thank the merciful spirits..." he murmured, his voice cracking with a father's profound relief.
Kelsang gave him a comforting nod, then gestured with her arm for both Dovru and Tanza to follow her out of the cold and into the warmth of the igloo.
Tanza trailed quietly behind her master and the Chief as they entered. Her view of Ayiri was initially obscured by the two tall adults, but the path cleared as they moved inside. Kelsang walked off to the left, helping Kusede gather the soiled, blood-stained towels before the two older women left the building together. Dovru made his way around to the right side of the bed, his movements soft and deliberate.
But as Tanza stood near the entrance, her eyes caught someone she did not expect to run into just yet.
Her mother. Her birth mother, Laya.
While Tanza hovered by the threshold, unsure of what to do, Laya stood quietly at the side of the bed. Her eyes were closed as she performed a low, rhythmic chanting rite—a traditional Air Nomad blessing for the newborn. On the other side of the bed, Dovru knelt in the snow. At the foot of the mattress, Nalu and Renu stood in absolute, wide-eyed silence, peering down at the tiny bundle.
Ayiri lay propped up against a stack of thick furs, holding her newborn baby girl to her bosom with absolute tenderness. Catching sight of her husband, the exhausted mother offered a tired, radiant smile. She reached out, her fingers softly gripping his outstretched hands in a quiet, private celebration between husband and wife.
But Tanza's attention remained locked on her birth mother. She barely remembered her infancy. As was the custom of Air Nomad culture, Laya had nurtured her for only a single year before giving her up to be raised communally by the temple elders.
Deep inside herself, the adult Tanza felt entirely blank. Yet, a faint, ancient memory lingered—a recollection of her one-year-old self crying uncontrollably as she was handed over to the care of strangers. Now, looking at the woman who gave her life, she felt nothing at all.
Which, she decided, was probably for the best.
And how exactly would Laya react? Tanza had grown significantly over the past six years. Perhaps she had changed too much for a distant mother to recognize her own baby. Yet, it had only been six years since Laya gave her up. Tanza vividly recalled a memory from her second or third year at the temple—seeing her mother watching her from a distant training platform, only for one of Laya's friends to urge her to turn away and move on.
She wasn't entirely sure if her mother would recognize her now. There was also the fact that Tanza hadn't seen her anywhere in the settlement until this exact moment. It meant her birth mother had likely just arrived at the pole on a recent sky bison transport. In a massive, bustling cove city carved out of the ice, it was entirely possible to miss someone for days on end. It was hard to say for certain.
Her running thoughts were cut short as Laya finished her rhythmic chant. Opening her eyes, the monk offered a warm smile to the resting mother. She took a gentle knee beside the mattress.
"Now," Laya asked softly, "what is the name of the child I am blessing?"
Tanza watched intently from her position by the threshold. Ayiri turned her head slightly, sharing a brief, meaningful look with her husband before looking back at the monk. "We decided we wanted to name her Hama if she was a girl. So, Hama it shall be."
Dovru gave a firm, quiet nod of agreement.
Laya's smile widened. She reached out, her fingers wrapped in a strand of polished wooden prayer beads, and gently tapped baby Hama's tiny forehead. "Then, by the guidance of the wind, and all things that flow through the air, may this little one grow to be an exceptional child of life. May her days be full of grace by the wind..."
She murmured a few final blessing words before rising gracefully to her feet.
"Thank you..." Ayiri whispered, her eyes fluttering with exhaustion. Dovru offered a silent nod of profound gratitude.
Laya returned the nod with a serene, respectful bow. She turned away from the bedside to make her exit—and finally faced the doorway, her eyes locking directly onto Tanza.