Ember Island had always been a place of peace for Zuko—a sanctuary carved from waves and silence. But this morning, the silence was sharp.
Ren stood barefoot in the sand, his small hands clenched. In front of him, Zuko held a flame in one palm. It flickered softly—normal, red-orange, steady.
"Now you," Zuko said calmly.
Ren nodded. He focused. Breathed in.
The flame that sparked from his fingertips hissed black and violet, unstable. It pulsed like a heartbeat, flickering in jagged rhythm. Zuko watched it carefully.
"You're forcing it," he said.
"I'm trying," Ren snapped.
Zuko didn't flinch. "Shadowfire doesn't answer to force. It's not like regular fire. It listens to memory. If you force it, it feeds on your anger."
Ren dropped his hands, frustrated.
"I don't want to remember. I don't want these dreams. I don't want to see dead people in my sleep."
Zuko knelt beside him.
"You think I do?"
The boy looked up.
Zuko opened his palm again. This time, the flame he summoned darkened—slowly, deliberately. It shifted from orange to deep crimson… then to black.
"I spent years trying to bury who I was," Zuko said. "The shame. The rage. The name of a man I never met, but whose fire burns in my blood."
"Kurozan," Ren whispered.
Zuko nodded.
"He was the first to wield black fire. But he let it consume him. Turned it into a weapon. I won't let that happen to you."
Ren hesitated, then asked: "What if it already is?"
Elsewhere — Royal Court of the Fire Nation
The throne room buzzed with tension.
Ambassadors and nobles filled the red-gold hall, some whispering in fear, others shouting for action.
"Unstable children summoning black fire on our streets?" barked Minister Hou. "If the Avatar won't control this shadow plague, we must protect our borders!"
"By attacking orphans?" countered another noble. "We'd look no better than Sozin."
"Enough," Mai said sharply from beside the Fire Lord's seat. "These are children. We need guidance, not paranoia."
"I agree," came a voice from the entrance.
Zuko strode in, his expression iron.
He hadn't worn his crown. Only a dark crimson tunic, simple but commanding.
"I've seen the power firsthand. It's not just bending—it's ancestral. A spiritual scar passed down through bloodlines. We can't cut it out. We have to understand it."
Minister Hou sneered. "You mean teach it?"
Zuko's gaze narrowed. "Would you rather let Kyra teach it?"
Silence.
"They're calling themselves Veilborn now," he continued. "Children born after the fall of the Veil. They feel memories that aren't theirs. They see pain that belongs to the world."
"And what would you have us do, my Lord?" asked another noble. "Build schools for shadowbenders?"
Zuko turned toward the window.
"Not schools," he murmured. "Sanctuaries."
Meanwhile — The Northern Air Temple
Kyra stood beneath the ancient carvings of wind sages.
The temple was quiet. Deserted. After the war, only a handful of Air Nomads had returned here, and now it had been evacuated due to "spiritual instability."
But Kyra didn't come for peace.
She came for the Chronicle Mirror.
A relic hidden deep beneath the temple, said to be carved from a shard of the Veil itself—capable of reflecting not your face, but your past.
Two of her followers worked on breaking the stone seal. Another stood watch.
"Are you sure this is it?" one whispered.
Kyra nodded. "It holds memory. Raw, unfiltered. If I can use it with shadowbending, I can project the past."
Her eyes gleamed.
"Make them see what they've forgotten. Feel it. No more lies. No more denial."
The seal cracked.
A pulse of black energy swept through the chamber, momentarily blinding them. When it cleared, the Chronicle Mirror hovered silently in the center of the room—like obsidian water frozen in the air.
Kyra approached it.
As her hand neared the surface, images flickered.
Flashes of war. Screaming. Spirits dying. The Avatar State glowing violet.
Then—Zuko. His face. His bloodline.
And a child with black fire in his hand.
Kyra pulled back.
"So… that's your plan, Fire Lord," she murmured.
She turned to her people.
"Change of course. We go to Ember Island."
Later — Ember Island
Ren sat on the porch again, this time laughing softly as he shaped a tiny black flame into the form of a turtle duck. It was shaky, but stable.
Zuko sat beside him, arms crossed.
"You know… not bad," he said.
Ren smiled. "I didn't force it."
Zuko ruffled his hair. "Told you."
Then he felt it.
A pulse in the ground. Faint. Familiar.
He stood.
A shadow flickered across the beach. Someone was approaching.
From the mist came a voice.
"I thought I'd find you here, Lord Zuko."
Kyra stepped forward, flanked by two of her adepts. Her expression was calm. Calculated.
Zuko's hand dropped to his sword.
"What do you want?"
Kyra looked past him—to Ren.
"I want to talk to the boy."
Zuko stepped between them. "That's not going to happen."
Kyra tilted her head. "Why not? He deserves the truth, doesn't he? The full story of what he is."
"I'm telling him everything he needs to know."
"No," she said. "You're telling him your version. Sanitized. Controlled. Same as always."
Zuko's temper flared. "You're manipulating children into thinking pain is a weapon."
Kyra stepped closer.
"I'm telling them pain is real. That their memories matter. You can dress it up however you like, Fire Lord, but in the end… the shadow always remembers."
She turned to leave.
But stopped to glance over her shoulder.
"When he comes looking for answers—don't be surprised if he comes to me."
Zuko said nothing.
But the wind carried his next breath away like smoke.
End of Chapter 14