10. In Grace

The silence in the throne room couldn’t be more apparent.

The gathered courtiers, the guards, and even the family stood frozen. Ozai’s face had fractured into disbelief. He looked from his son to his father, waiting for the fire lord to laugh or to order the boy executed for treason.

But Azulon did not laugh; he leaned forward as his eyes glittered with interest.

“My most beloved grandson,” he rasped, “are you telling me that you wish to take revenge for me by facing your own father?”

“I’ll do more than face him; I’ll kill him for his desire to disrespect the family name.”

The words struck home. Azulon was a monster, but he was a monster who understood lineage. He valued the hierarchy of blood. Ozai’s request to usurp Iroh’s birthright mere days after Lu Ten’s death was a profound insult to the grieving father.

If Ozai’s own son wished to correct this error through blood, Azulon would not stand in the way. Such was the way of their people: the strong devoured the weak.

“Then so be it!” Azulon barked, slamming his fist onto the armrest.

Ursa broke from her paralysis. She rushed forward, falling to her knees and grasping Zuko’s arm. Her face was wet with tears.

“No, Zuko, please!” she begged. “Retract this! Apologize to your grandfather! You cannot fight your father—he will kill you! Please, my son, do not throw your life away!”

Zuko looked down at her. This woman’s love had been his only anchor before. But now her fear was becoming his liability.

He gently but firmly removed her hand from his arm. “Stand aside, mother… I’m not the one who’s going to die tonight.” Then he signaled the guards, who hesitated before stepping forward to pull the weeping princess back to the perimeter. “Not a single one of you interrupt this fight.”

As Zuko walked toward the center of the arena, a voice drifted from the shadows of the pillars. “Gonna miss you, Zuzu.” It was Azula, watching with a dark pragmatism.

She didn’t seem to care about his safety; she, like Azulon, wanted to see the spectacle. If Zuko won, he was a titan worthy of fear. If he died, he was a fool who had overreached. Either way, Azula would still remain the princess.

Zuko didn’t even bother acknowledging her as the center of the throne room was cleared.

Following the lore, Ozai stripped off his shoulder pieces and outer robes, revealing a torso of corded muscle. He was in his prime. Zuko, however, remained fully dressed in his princely armor.

“Disrespectful,” Ozai hissed, assuming a combat stance. His fists then ignited with orange flames. “You said I’m the one dishonoring the family, yet you—who’s never even been in a true Agni Kai—don’t know the tradition.”

“There is no need,” Zuko replied, cracking his neck.

The insult made Ozai’s eyes narrow into slits. He was looking for the fear that should have been there. “I should have you know something before I kill you, Zuko. You were—”

“‘Lucky to be born,'” Zuko interrupted, finishing the sentence for him.

Ozai paused, thrown off rhythm. That was exactly what he had intended to say.

Zuko simply didn’t want to hear the catchphrases of a dead man. “Here’s something you should know about me, Ozai…” Then he charged. “I don’t believe in luck.”

Ozai roared, unleashing a fury of fire whips as Zuko moved into the arc of the flames.

Swish!

The attack was severed with a chop.

Everyone marveled at the color of the flames blazing on his hands. Even Azulon leaned forward with his mouth slightly open. White fire, the mark of an absolute firebender. The boy is a prodigy of a caliber not seen in generations.

“What a shame you hid such talent!” Ozai shouted over the flames.

He then propelled himself into the air with jets of fire blasting from his feet. As he aimed a fire kick at Zuko’s head, Zuko stepped inside the guard, causing him to miss. Ozai landed, spun, and aimed another kick.

Swish!

He missed again.

At such a close distance, he went for a fire punch. But Zuko quickly delivered three rapid jabs to his nerve clusters.

Bang-bang-bang!

Yet the attack hadn’t stopped Ozai’s fire punch; it had hit Zuko square in the face, sending the latter back by several paces.

When Zuko recovered, his chin was covered in ash. But he was still composed, showing no expression.

Ozai’s breath suddenly hitched as his arms went numb. Then he stumbled back with shocked eyes. Everyone watched in confusion. There wasn’t a single injury on Ozai, so why was he acting as if he was stunned?

He looked up, ready to summon a wave of fire that would consume the entire room. But when he tried to move his arms, he found himself unable.

Zuko had done it; he had blocked his father’s chi!

Straightway, he extended his arm and pointed his index and middle fingers directly at Ozai’s forehead. His thumb was cocked as the air around his fingertip rippled. A high-pitched whine then filled the room for a split second.

“It’s over for you…”

BOOM!

The blast connected.

The silence that followed was louder than the explosion. Ozai’s body crumpled to the floor. Above the shoulders, there was nothing but smoke and cauterized ruin.

Ursa quickly smothered her hands before she could scream as Azula stared with her mouth agape. The whole room could not believe what their eyes had seen.

When Zuko slowly brought his two fingers to his lips, he blew away the trail of smoke curling from them. Without even looking at his father’s corpse, he turned to the dais and knelt on one knee.

“The usurper is removed,” he announced. “Lu Ten’s name will be remembered in grace, my lord.”

Azulon stared down at his grandson. The old fire lord had seen war, had seen genocide, and he had even seen dragons die. But never had he seen anything like this boy.