12. Ran & Shaw

When the ship arrived at the Northern Fire Islands, Zuko felt an even stronger humidity. It was a stark contrast to the sterile, ash-choked air of the capital. And for General Iroh, it was a walk through a memory he had sworn to keep buried.

The ship soon docked, allowing only Zuko and Iroh to walk down.

Iroh watched his nephew trek through the ferns and avoid the traps as if they were second nature to him. Seeing this made Iroh want to understand Zuko more. Or rather, he wanted to fill the void Lu Ten left behind.

“Zuko, you navigate these ruins as if you have a map. And the things you said on the ship… about the Sun Warriors being alive, and the dragons…”

Zuko didn’t look back as he sliced through a hanging vine. “I told you, uncle. I did my research.”

“I thought the archives said I killed the last dragon, and that this island was a graveyard.”

“The archives stated what the fire lord wanted them to state. And if I know my uncle, the Dragon of the West would never hunt the progenitors of firebending for sport.”

“Well, I am quite flattered that my nephew is so wise.”

“I just thought you were a liar, uncle.”

Iroh comically stopped. It was a clever deflection, one that complimented his morality while concealing the terrifying depth of Zuko’s actual knowledge.

When they reached the eternal flame, the Sun Warrior chief was waiting. He stood flanked by his warriors. Their spears were tipped with obsidian, and their faces were masked.

Tension was tight until the chief’s eyes landed on Iroh.

“Dragon of the West,” the chief observed. “Why have you returned, and with a child?”

“He brought himself,” Iroh gently corrected. “I am merely his chaperone.”

After a brief introduction, the two soon stood before the entrances to the dragons’ lair. The chief did not give them the sacred fire that never extinguished, for Zuko knew they would not be needed.

Iroh felt a little anxious as they walked up toward the highest platform. He heard that his nephew knew the ‘Dancing Dragon’, but he didn’t know if Zuko knew how to actually perform it.

Before he could ask, the drums began to beat from the Sun Warriors. And straightway, both red and blue dragons swarmed out of their respective mountains.

‘Didn’t think Ran and Shaw would be so hideous,’ Zuko thought.

“Hideous” was hardly the word. These dragons were just as big as the mountains and were filled with scales and sinews. Even their eyes glowed with an intelligence that predated anything Zuko had ever seen in a creature.

Iroh bowed as his heart swelled with the familiar awe. When he glanced at Zuko, he noticed the boy had no sense of dread on his expression.

“Uncle, they’re waiting,” he said.

Iroh readied himself as Ran and Shaw coiled around the stone bridge. Zuko began: left foot first, extend, and then circulate the body. He knew it all by heart.

As Iroh synchronized his movements, he was perplexed that his nephew was performing the dance beyond that of a student.

Uncle and nephew moved in unison with the dragons. When the dance ended, the dragons descended and opened their maws. A vortex of rainbow fire spiraled around Iroh and Zuko.

As Iroh felt the warmth rejuvenate his tired spirit, Zuko looked at his palm. White fire sprung on its own. But it felt different. It was vast and swirled with the pearlescent sheen of the dragons’ breath, hotter than before, yet strangely stable.

“Magnificent,” Iroh whispered.

✟

The two would eventually leave the islands with a sense of fulfilled purpose.

Zuko had wanted to speak with Ran and Shaw longer, considering he would technically be riding a dragon-like pet one day. But he refrained from going too far on that side of the tale.

Iroh himself questioned Zuko on many things, to which the latter gave one simple answer: “I researched it, uncle.” That only piqued Iroh’s curiosity about just how much knowledge his nephew held as a child.

Now on the ship, their vessel turned north and cut through the equator to head toward the frozen wastes of the world.

The journey was long, and the temperature plummeted with every passing day. By the time the massive ice walls of the Northern Water Tribe loomed out of the mist, the Fire Nation crew was shivering in their parkas.

“The Northern Water Tribe,” Iroh mused, standing on the deck. His breath plumed in the icy air. “It has been a lifetime since I saw these walls. We are technically enemies here, prince Zuko. They will not open the gates for a Fire Nation cruiser.”

“They will,” Zuko said as he fixed his eyes on the towering fortifications. “For us, at least.”

The ship ground to a halt before the massive ice gates. Waterbenders stood atop the walls, ready to sink the vessel at the slightest provocation. But when the ship did nothing, a small skiff was sent, carrying a stern-faced warrior.

“Turn back!” the warrior shouted over the crashing waves. “These are restricted waters.”

Zuko stepped to the railing and projected the voice of a disciplined man. “Elder Pakku is here to see me.”

The warrior on the skiff faltered. “Elder Pakku? You are from the Fire Nation, no? Why would he want to see you?”

“Tell him… that the White Lotus blooms even in the snow.”

Iroh froze at Zuko’s statement. He couldn’t help but stare at the back of his nephew’s head.

The White Lotus, the secret society that transcended the four nations, of which Iroh was a Grand Lotus, has kept that guarded with his life. So how? There’s no possible way that his nephew could have just ‘researched’ this one.

The warrior in the skiff looked confused, but the authority in Zuko’s voice compelled him to send the message inside.

As they waited on the ship, Iroh most certainly begged Zuko to reveal how he knew about the White Lotus. Yet Zuko smirked, answering that the matter was secret. Such an answer made the Grand Lotus laugh harder than he ever had since this trip began.

Not long after, the ice gates began to groan, and the massive blocks of frozen water parted, allowing the enemy ship to glide into the harbor of Agna Qel’a.

When they disembarked, Pakku was waiting. The waterbending master looked older than Iroh remembered. And although his face was lined with the harshness of the pole, his eyes were still sharp.

“Iroh,” Pakku said, crossing his arms. “You travelled with strange company. And you use passwords that should not be known to children.”

“It is good to see you, old friend,” Iroh said, recovering his composure. Then his eyes darted nervously to Zuko. “I admit, the password was not my doing.”

Pakku looked down at the boy standing in the snow. Zuko returned the gaze with a terrifying calmness. “And just who are you?”

“I am prince Zuko, and am not a member of the White Lotus, but I desire to learn the ways of waterbending from a skilled bender like yourself.”

Pakku scoffed. Though there was a flicker of impressed curiosity in his gaze. He looked back at Iroh. “Are you sure you did not tell him?”

“Certain,” Iroh sighed, looking at his nephew as if seeing a spirit in a boy’s skin. “He appears to know everything even before I can think to ask.”

Zuko didn’t want to explain. He didn’t tell them that he knew Pakku was Kanna’s ex-fiance or that he knew the moon spirit swam in the oasis behind the palace.

What was he going to explain? That he was planning to shape the world as he saw fit?