The Shadow of Kyoshi (Avatar, The Last Airbender)

But the grief in his face right now told her differently. After the companions of his youth left his side, Kuruk had been alone. Surrounded by a world that celebrated him perhaps, but completely and utterly alone.

The man in front of her was a physically large person, but looking at him, she could only see the limits of the space Kuruk filled. It reminded her of the way Jianzhu’s corpse seemed to shrink after the life left his body. Death and time made everyone small, reduced them to trivialities. She had no doubt her successor would look at her with skepticism, wondering why everyone claimed this Kyoshi person was considered a giant.

“I’m glad I finally reached you, Avatar Kuruk,” she said, meaning it wholly.

His shoulders hitched. And then they eased. She didn’t consider he might have needed this connection as much as her, assuming a past life could need anything.

“There’s one more thing I have to tell you.” Kuruk suddenly appeared reluctant, a change of mind taking hold of him. “But I don’t know if it’s ultimately worth it. I don’t want to cause you more pain.”

Kyoshi read his grimace and realized another flaw in Kuruk’s character. Outside of his bending opponents perhaps, he could not stand seeing other people get hurt. “You might as well.”

Kuruk sighed. “Come with me.”

They walked side by side. The unreality of distance and solid ground flowed to their advantage. A few strides took them out of the meadow and into the horizon, as if they were spinning the world underneath them with their feet.

She forgot to observe their journey and take in the splendors of the Spirit World. By the time she remembered to look for Kelsang’s glorious painted landscapes and curious talking creatures, they arrived at their destination.

They’d gone from nightmare to nightmare. Kuruk and Kyoshi stood at the tip of a drained, dead swamp. Trees that needed their roots submerged in liquid had withered into kindling. The silt floor of the basin had dried into dusty mudcrack.

She had an idea where the water had gone. A great gash in the earth had opened, splitting the width of the swamp’s edge. The crack started small and tore away from her feet like the beginnings of a great canyon cut into the desert. The depths were filled with the same wild, clashing, mindless color that Kyoshi had threatened to immerse herself and Kuruk into.

The creator of this tear had stood where they stood now, the origin point clearly marked like a burst of outrage. “Did Yun do this?”

“Yes. The Spirit World reacts to our emotions. The wounds we bring into this place take on physical characteristics. Unlike the rupture you created, this one isn’t healing. Your boy is keeping it open and festering by clinging to his anger.”

Kyoshi nodded. “I know. Yun’s not in his right mind because of Father Glowworm’s influence.”

“No. You’ve held on to that excuse long enough.” Kuruk was gentle but unyielding. “What I needed to tell you is that spirits can possess a human being’s body, and they might even merge with a person to give them new shapes and forms. But they don’t take over people’s thoughts. Yun is in complete control of his actions. He has been the whole time.”

“Oh,” Kyoshi said. She wavered where she stood. “Oh.” If Kuruk was right about Yun, then Zoryu was too.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Kuruk said. “I wish it wasn’t so.”

The sky, a clear blue sheen, began to swirl around her axis. Clouds appeared for the sole purpose of marking her spiral. Kuruk glanced up with a disappointed expression. Shame. Looks like rain. We’ll have to cut the outing short.

Kyoshi tried to speak and salt water came out of her mouth. It spilled down her chin and dampened her robes. She wanted to give parting words to Kuruk but her throat was thick with the sea.

Someone rolled her to her side, and the rest of the water came rushing out of her body. She felt the wooden deck of Sulan’s Smile pressing against her cheek. Captain Joonho and the crew ringed her, frowning with worry. It would be bad luck if an Avatar died aboard their ship, even a foolish Earth-born one.

As Kyoshi lay there, she could feel the gift Kuruk had given her. The battle between the previous Avatar and Father Glowworm had left identifying scars on both parties, marks carved so deep as to be permanent.

She and Yun were the inheritors of that legacy. She could tell where he was. It was a faint presence, flickering at this distance, but it had a direction. She knew if she reached for him, extended the flow of her spirit, she could follow him to his location. He’d likely tracked her through the Fire Nation using the same method. They were each other’s beacons, two torches in the darkness.

And he’d used that connection over and over again, to make her suffer.

Kyoshi sniffed and immediately regretted it. She wiped the burning salt sensation from her nose. “I thought I told you not to come after me,” she said to Captain Joonho. Several sailors w

ere dripping wet like she was. The strongest swimmers must have fished her out.

Joonho nodded solemnly. “You did. But that was obviously a stupid order and we were never going to obey it.”

If only the world were filled with common-sensed people like the captain and his crew. She let her head thunk back to the deck and closed her eyes. “How dare you defy your Avatar,” she muttered.

INTERLUDE: THE MAN FROM THE SPIRIT WORLD

After consuming Father Glowworm, Yun went through the checks Sifu Amak had taught him to perform after coming into contact with potentially deadly toxins. There was no burning or numbness in his stomach or on his skin. No tingling on his lips. His vision was as clear as it had ever been. He held out his hand and spread his fingers; they were steady.

No effect. Perhaps he’d drunk enough vileness in his life to render him immune. If there were signs that appeared when a spirit passed into a human, they were masked by his own flesh. He couldn’t discern whether Father Glowworm was destroyed, dissipated, or alive somewhere inside him. He didn’t care.