Avatar: The Flames of Kaiya

Blood ran in thin streams along worn stones, pooling at the edges where old gutters struggled to carry it away. A crowd pressed in, uneasy, voices caught between awe and revulsion. Some cheered, relief plain in their eyes, as if the long-held fear of gang lords prowling the lower ring now dissolved with each severed head. Others stood silent, appalled that such a scene had come to pass in their city.

Long Feng stood apart, hands folded behind his back, gaze distant. The noonday light revealed no anger, no triumph upon his face, only a grim acceptance. He scarcely blinked when someone approached him, whispering that only one remained. His nod was slow. He remarked that it would be best to finish and scrub the streets clean before dusk. Yet when he turned to see the last prisoner, shock tightened his features.

A man emerged, wrists bound, prodded forward by Earth Kingdom enforcers who had no bending arts to call upon, only hard-won brutality. Long Feng's posture tensed. He stepped closer, voice low but carrying a forced calm.

"There must be a mistake," he said, addressing both crowd and captors. "This execution line was reserved for the worst offenders—violent ringleaders who preyed upon the weak. Surely this man is not one of those."

The prisoner, catching the cue, hurried to agree.

"I'm in the wrong line," he said, chin lifted, eyes wary. "I should not be here."

Long Feng made a show of adjusting his stance, calling out to the gathered citizens.

"The work is done for today," he declared. "Let all witness the fate of criminals who defy the order we have established with Fire Lord Ozai's guidance. Let these events serve as a lesson. Ba Sing Se shall not suffer crime to flourish beneath its rooftops."

With that, the crowd began to disperse, guards ushering them away, whispers drifting into alleyways. The prisoner leaned closer, voice hushed.

"I owe you my life," he said.

Long Feng's reply hissed between clenched teeth.

"Not a word. You go to prison. I will handle matters from there."

The man nodded, led off by enforcers who offered no sympathy, leaving behind a street damp with memory and dread.

* * *

Later, in a quiet chamber veiled by drawn screens, Kaiya waited. She sat at a low desk scattered with scrolls and sealed letters. Incense curled in the air, lending a faint bitterness that settled at the back of the throat. Long Feng entered, shoulders stiff, voice measured as he spoke.

"Crime is lower than it has ever been," he said. "I have enforced your orders as instructed. With the city's scum crushed, I plan to rest. I have earned it."

Kaiya gave no immediate reply. She allowed silence to stretch, as if weighing each breath. At last, she inclined her head, tone quiet, precise.

"True, the streets are calm," she said. "Yet, I find something odd. There is a name on the execution list—never crossed out, never cleansed from this earth. Instead, that man languishes in prison. Explain."

Long Feng cleared his throat, posture tightening. "A misunderstanding. He found himself in the wrong line. I corrected it. He will be no trouble."

Kaiya's gaze slid from the parchment she held to Long Feng's face.

"Do you take me for a fool?" Her voice was serene, yet each word carried weight. "I know your past. I have studied you. I know who he is to you. A friend from your youth, one who aided you when the lower ring swallowed hopes like cheap morsels. Speak plainly. No more charades."

Long Feng's composure cracked. He inhaled slowly, then bowed his head.

"Yes," he confessed. "I could not kill him. He stood by me when I had nothing. Without him, I would not have risen as I did. Even you, in my place, would show mercy. You cannot demand that I murder a man who once saved me from ruin."

For a moment, Kaiya's silence returned. She set her scroll aside, hands folding neatly in her lap.

"I understand your sentiment," she said at length. "Were I in your position, I would hesitate too. But that does not alter reality. Your life is not your own. We made an agreement. You know what awaits should you defy me."

She rose, feet silent on the tatami floor, and stepped closer until the scent of her perfume reached him. Her eyes, steady and unblinking, held no tenderness.

"You own nothing, Long Feng. Not even your will. When I give you an order, you follow. I care nothing for your past loyalties or your pangs of conscience. Publicly execute him before dusk. If you refuse, I will have him tortured for a month and then disposed of. No more compromises."

Long Feng's knees threatened to buckle. He trembled, tears sliding down his cheeks, the last of his pride stripped away. He managed only a nod before turning, steps stumbling yet swift, to leave the chamber.

Kaiya did not watch him go. She returned to her desk, fingertips tracing the edges of a new scroll, the room silent but for the scratch of ink and the soft crackle of the incense as it continued to burn.

* * * 

The crystal catacombs offered a quiet stillness. Their glassy walls caught and stretched the candlelight into long, subtle hues. Kaiya moved within this chamber, alone, her firebending shaping arcs and whorls of heat through the air. No one observed her but the cool stone and trickling water, yet she performed as if an unseen audience lingered in the shadows. Her motions were fluid, each flame emerging and fading with a elegance.

Joo Dee entered softly, footsteps near-silent on the damp floor. She stood apart, hands clasped, and watched Kaiya. The girl's bending did not resemble a warrior's drills. It reminded Joo Dee of a private reverie, as though Kaiya's flames were instruments in a wordless song.

Kaiya allowed her final flame to vanish. She turned, eyes calm, voice measured.

"You must have grown up around many earthbenders," she said, amber gaze settling on Joo Dee. "What do you think of my firebending?"

Joo Dee's fingers tightened at her waist.

"Very… interesting," she said, speech halting. "Not look like training for fight. More like… enjoying, as if art, not tool."

Kaiya inclined her head, satisfied.

"That is precisely it. Power should not be confined to mere brutality. To see bending only as a weapon narrows one's potential."

Joo Dee offered a small bow, eyes lowered.

"I never meet someone like you," she said quietly.

Kaiya let this rest a moment, then drew closer, voice turning practical.

"I doubt you came only to admire my art. Speak. Is this about the execution? Did Long Feng comply?"

Joo Dee's hands twisted the fabric of her sleeves. She nodded, voice low.

"Yes. Execution go smooth. Leaders, violent criminals—gone. Petty ones locked away."

Kaiya stood beneath an arch of crystal, head tilted, waiting.

"Then what troubles you?"

Joo Dee swallowed, uncertainty pressing on her words.

"Long Feng not report this morning. I send guards. They find his body. He leave note: 'I didn't break agreement. Please keep them safe.'"

The silence deepened. Kaiya looked upward, as though searching for something among the glitter of mineral surfaces.

"I see," she said, voice soft. "He remained true. He stayed, I am unharmed, so his family is safe. The agreement stands."

Joo Dee's eyes shone with quiet alarm.

"What now?" she asked. "He lead task force. Who take that role?"

A pause. "Is it too soon to decide?"

Kaiya's tone hardly changed, calm and measured.

"Not at all. We choose another earthbender from the prisons. We do exactly as before. Nothing changes."

Joo Dee stiffened, as if struck. The finality of Kaiya's words, the casual dismissal of a man's death—this gnawed at something deep inside her. But Kaiya stepped past, the echo of water droplets filling the silence.

At the threshold, Kaiya turned her head, face serene.

"Is that clear?"

Joo Dee bowed slightly, voice trembling.

"Yes. Done right away."

Kaiya departed, leaving behind the quiet shimmer of crystals and the faint warmth where her flames had danced. Joo Dee lingered for a moment, then followed, each step feeling heavier as she moved toward a world unchanged by a lost life.