Zuko stares down at the man before him. The stubborn fool who should be confessing everything but instead just sits there, hands bound behind his back, tied to a tree. The prisoner’s green eyes meet his, deep as the forest. The dark green is so vibrant it’s almost unnerving. He’s seen green eyes before, but this man’s seem… off.

  He clenches his jaw. Maybe that’s just how Airbenders are. He’s never seen one except the Avatar. They’re supposed to be dead and gone. That’s the problem.

  Zuko raises a hand near the man’s face, careful not to get too close, but close enough for him to feel the heat. He presses it to the tree beside the pretender’s cheek, and the bark begins to burn, smoking faintly.

  The prisoner flinches but doesn’t cry out.

  Zuko glares. “You can stop pretending. Where are the others? The Airbenders.”

  The Airbender exhales sharply through his nose. “There aren’t any.”

  “Don’t lie to me!” Zuko almost winces at the crack in his voice. It shouldn’t do that. He presses the flame closer. “I saw what you did. That was airbending.”

  “It wasn’t,” the prisoner snaps, leaning forward slightly, eyes narrowing. “Do you think I’d be sitting here tied to a tree if I could bend the air like your Avatar?”

  Spirits, that has to be grinding his wrists raw, but even that means nothing to him. Zuko snarls, pulling back and pacing in a tight circle. “Then what was it? Where did you learn it?”

  “I told you already,” the prisoner bites out. “It’s pressure. My body, my control. Not your bending, not your world. Mine.”

  Zuko stops walking, turning to face him. “That’s impossible.”

  He tries to loom. That’s why he hasn’t adjusted the ropes for the boy to stand. He’s young, but taller than Zuko—just slightly, but enough.

  The boy glares up at him, and when his voice comes out, it’s not breaking; it’s sharp and cutting. “You want it to be impossible. Because then you wouldn’t have to admit you don’t understand everything!”

  Zuko freezes. That’s not true. It’s this liar who doesn’t understand. He saw the air move. Saw the boy fly with the Avatar. He clenches his jaw, forcing himself to meet the prisoner’s eyes. “Don’t talk like you know me.” His voice comes out quiet, almost threatening. Good.

  But the prisoner just scoffs. “You think screaming questions and burning trees makes you terrifying? You’re not terrifying. You’re desperate. And it shows.”

  Before he can think, Zuko surges forward, the fire in his hand flashing across the prisoner’s cheek. The boy flinches back, teeth barred, and Zuko yanks his hand back, enough not to burn.

  For a second, the only sound is both of them breathing hard. He lets his hand sit there, lets the heat radiate, but the boy doesn’t break. Zuko’s traitorous hand shakes slightly. He jerks it back and says in his most dangerous voice. “You will tell me the truth. Sooner or later.” It doesn’t come out quite right.

  The prisoner glares back, breathing hard. “Keep dreaming.”

  Zuko almost lunges forward, but instead, whirls on his heel, the fire in his hand snuffing out as he storms away. His Blue Spirit mask sits by the fire. Maybe he should have done this as the Blue Spirit. Maybe a mask would have been better.

  He shoots a glance back at the prisoner who is still glaring, jaw set. Zuko takes a deep breath, trying to hold the anger in. The prisoner is too calm for someone tied up. Too steady. Not afraid enough.

  And he’s so strange. Strange clothes, strange claims. He looks close to Zuko’s age, maybe just a few years older. His shoulders are broader, but it is hard to tell if that means he’s older or has just filled out faster.

  But he isn’t old by any stretch of the word. The Airbenders are supposed to be extinct, and now there are two of them? Do they have some sort of secret colony, and why only emerge now?

  Still, if he really is an airbender…

  Zuko feels a twist in his gut, feeling almost a little nauseous. This man has to belong somewhere. He isn’t like Zuko.

  Images flash through Zuko’s mind. The boy he tried to help. The villagers who looked at him with such vitriol once they learned he was an Firebender, even though he tried to help.

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  That’s what helping got him. Nothing. Just more anger. They looked at him like he was a monster, as if the scar were the only part that mattered.

  He can never be accepted here. But if he returns to the Fire Nation with an Airbender? With evidence that they were rebuilding? That has to mean something. Maybe it isn’t the Avatar yet, but maybe it’s enough.

  Maybe they will finally see him. Maybe his father will—

  Zuko forces the thought away, fists tightening. It’s a silly hope. What’s he going to do? Drag the boy back to the Fire Nation on his own? Azula is still out there. And if she catches him, he has no illusions about what she will do to his prize.

  She’ll take the prisoner from him, just like she takes everything else. He glares at the fire before glancing back at the prisoner.

  The prisoner finally has his eyes shut, just breathing. Zuko wishes he could do the same, but sleep is weakness. He can’t lose. Not this time. The Avatar is still out there. He’ll sleep only when he’s sure they aren’t coming tonight. When it’s dark enough to hide both him and the boy from the world.

  Because in the end, sleep is leaving himself open to be abandoned again.

  And he can’t stand that.

  Teorin waits, breathing in the dark. He can hear something in the woods, some sort of insect, though he doesn’t actually know what kind of insects they have here in this star-forsaken place that Lev has stranded them.

  The fire is low now, just embers, and his captor seems to be asleep. At the very least, he hasn’t moved for what feels like an hour.

  Teorin breathes carefully, dragging pressure from his core to his arms. It bunches there as his muscles try to absorb it. To the point it almost hurts. This has to be fast and quick. It will probably hurt.

  He takes a deep breath and pulls, channeling the pressure to his muscles, amplifying his natural strength far past normal human limits. The rope strains, fibers groaning. With a sharp exhale, he pulls. The bonds snap.

  Teorin freezes at the sound. Cascades, was that too loud? But there is nothing. No sound. Teorin hesitates, squinting into the darkness, but it’s so dark tonight, and the tree cover makes it almost impossible to see to the other edge of the fire.

  Now or never. Teorin rises slowly, legs unsteady from being tied down so long. But there’s no choice. If this Firebender refuses to give him water again, like he did today, then by this time tomorrow, he’ll be too weak to escape.

  He turns slowly, toeing through the undergrowth. He takes another small step. Then another.

  He sends out a small set of micropulses. Just enough for the pressure to give him an idea of where the trees are ahead. They come back, giving him rough shapes. He’s almost to the tree line.

  A branch snaps.

  Cascades! Maybe it didn’t—

  “Don’t.” The voice cuts like a blade.

  Flame ignites behind Teorin, painting the forest in orange light. The boy steps closer, swords sheathed but fire curling from his fists, dousing him in an eerie glow, revealing every inch of him taut with fury. “You really thought you’d get away?”

  Not good.

  Teorin’s hands flex, pressure rippling faintly in the air, nudging loose pebbles, shifting the dirt underfoot. “You didn’t tie very well.”

  Hopefully, he somehow believes that.

  The boy’s fire flares brighter. “Try that again, and you’ll regret it.”

  Finally, Teorin glances back over his shoulder, keeping his expression unreadable. “I already regret it.”

  For a moment, the forest is quiet. Then the boy lunges. Flame lashes forward.

  Teorin pivots, bursting pressure from his heels to shove his body sideways. The fire sears past, close enough to blister. He hits the ground, rolls, snaps upright, and pushes again, this time at the dirt under his captor’s stance. It shifts, subtle, just enough to stagger him.

  But the boy recovers instantly, twisting his momentum into another strike. Fire crashes down, lighting the clearing in a violent flare.

  Teorin snaps a blast of pressure outward, shoving the flames back. Then he lets out an even larger shockwave. There’s a gasp as his captor is thrown violently back into a tree.

  Teorin runs, throwing out small pressure pulses to sense the obstacles that are cloaked by darkness. Suddenly, fire shoots past him, filling the air with light. The tree just ahead bursts into flame.

  Teorin throws out another massive shockwave behind him, the loss of pressure weakening him. He glances back, but the boy is already recovering.

  Bursts, the kid is tough. That should have knocked him back, Teorin thinks. He sends out another blast just to destabilize. He doesn’t want a fight, just to sneak away. He isn’t a warrior, not like his brother.

  He blasts again, but the sudden absence of pressure in his body leaves him feeling weak. His captor adjusts, narrowing his attacks: smaller, faster, harder to counter. Teorin desperately drags pressure from his core, each block eating through his strength, the strain grinding through his muscles.

  I can’t keep this up, Teorin thinks. His vision blurs, body trembling from overuse.

  His captor advances, firelight glinting off his scar. “You can fight all you want. You’re not leaving.”

  Teorin exhales slowly, letting the pressure ebb. His body feels heavier now, the broken ropes still dangling from his wrists. “Then you’ll have to drag me again.”

  His captor doesn’t answer. His jaw clenches as the fire gutters low. He kicks the snapped rope aside and drags Teorin back toward the tree.

  This time, the knots are double-tight. He adds another log to the fire and lights it.

  “Why do you even want me?” Teorin asks, voice low.

  His captor is silent for a long moment. “I haven’t decided.”

  “How did you even find me in the first place?”

  The Firebender shrugs, firelight flickering across his scar. “I was looking for the Avatar. There were weird lights in the sky, and weird stuff seems to happen around him.”

  Teorin stiffens. “You’re after the kid?”

  His captor tilts his head. “You care about him?”

  Teorin is silent.

  “He care about you?”

  Teorin flinches.

  The boy’s mouth curls, not quite a smile, not quite a snarl. “Thought so.”

  He glares. “I wasn’t sure before, but after that escape attempt, I think I figured out what to do with you.”

  His captor nudges Teorin with his foot, forcing him flat against the tree. Teorin glares up at him, but the boy doesn’t look away. And for the first time, Teorin wonders if he’ll make it out of this alive.