Chapter 13: Connection with Wan
Yogan's breath caught as he locked eyes with Wan, the legendary warrior who had mastered all four elements. His glowing figure stood solemnly at the edge of the swamp, a soft breeze whispering through the air, stirring the ancient trees. The swamp, once eerie, now felt like a realm between worlds, where the weight of the mortal plane didn't seem to matter.
Yogan stumbled forward, expecting his legs to give way from the pain of his recent defeat, but to his surprise, he felt none. He blinked, confused. His body—unharmed. The bruises, the cuts, the burning ache from battle were all gone. He was whole again, but this only unsettled him more. He wasn't in the physical world.
"Wan!" Yogan's voice broke with desperation as the realization dawned. "Please... you have to help me! My friends... they're captured. I don't know what to do."
Wan regarded him with a deep, piercing gaze. The silence hung between them, heavy with unspoken truths. Slowly, Wan shook his head. "I can't," he said, his voice steady but filled with regret. "I no longer have the power to intervene directly in the mortal realm. My time has passed."
Yogan's heart sank. He clenched his fists, fighting back the despair that threatened to consume him. "But you must know something—anything that can help me free them! I'm not strong enough. My airbending… it wasn't enough."
Wan's expression softened as he stepped closer, his glowing figure illuminating the swamp's twisted roots and murky waters. "Perhaps I cannot act in the mortal realm, but I can help you help yourself, Yogan. I sense great potential in you—potential that, if nurtured, could make you a truly incredible airbender."
Yogan swallowed hard. "But why? Why are you helping me? And why am I seeing you in the first place? Do we... do we have some kind of connection?"
Wan looked away for a moment, as if considering the question deeply. His brow furrowed. "I don't know," he admitted, his voice filled with an unsettling uncertainty. "The connection between us is... unclear, even to me. Perhaps it will be revealed in time, but for now, what matters is that you are here. And while you are, I can teach you what I have learned. It's up to you to decide how far you will go."
The air grew thick with anticipation as Yogan took a deep breath. "Teach me," he said, his voice firm. "Please, show me how to master airbending like you did."
Wan nodded. "When I traveled to master the elements, I didn't simply learn from human teachers. I sought out the true masters of each element." He glanced toward the sky, where the clouds swirled as if reacting to his presence. "For fire, I trained under the guidance of the dragons—the purest, most ancient firebenders. They taught me the true nature of fire, not just as a weapon, but as life itself, a force of warmth and destruction, creation and chaos."
Yogan listened intently, his eyes widening in awe. He had heard stories of dragons and their connection to firebending, but hearing it from Wan himself made it feel real—tangible.
Wan continued, "To master air, you must understand that it is more than just wind and breath. It's freedom. The flying bison, not the lemurs or even humans, are the true masters of air. They move through the skies with ease, in perfect harmony with the currents. Their bodies and minds are one with the wind. That is what you must learn—to be one with the air around you, to trust it as an extension of yourself."
Yogan's mind raced. He had always tried to control the air, to shape it to his will, but hearing Wan speak, he realized that airbending was something more—something far deeper.
Wan stepped forward, taking a firm stance. "I'll show you the fundamental stances that helped me master airbending. These positions aren't just for attack or defense—they're a way to connect with the air itself."
He demonstrated the first stance, his movements fluid and graceful, as if he were moving through water rather than air. His hands moved in circular motions, his feet planted firmly yet light on the ground, each gesture in perfect harmony with the invisible breeze around him.
"Focus on your breath," Wan instructed. "Feel the air move with you, not against you. Let it flow through you, guide your movements."
Yogan watched closely, his body now free of the burdensome pain he had felt in the mortal realm. He felt strangely light, his mind clear. Without the injuries to hinder him, his spirit seemed to respond more naturally to the flow of air. His feet shuffled into place, his arms sweeping through the air as he tried to feel the wind's natural flow. For a moment, everything felt... right. The air responded to him, not with force, but with gentle guidance.
"That's it," Wan encouraged. "Don't fight the air—become part of it."
Yogan's heart swelled with hope as he continued practicing the stance, his movements becoming smoother, more natural. The air around him felt alive, as if he were finally understanding its true nature. But before he could fully immerse himself, a sharp, searing pain shot through his chest.
With a scream, Yogan's vision went white, and he collapsed to the ground.
---
He awoke to the smell of damp stone and rusted metal, his body wracked with pain once more. Yogan groaned, clutching his side as he tried to focus his blurry vision. He was no longer in the swamp. His body throbbed with a dull ache, and when he blinked away the haze, he found himself in a large, dimly lit room. The stone walls were cold, and the air was heavy with the stench of unwashed bodies.
Around him, Renji, Kezin, and Kuno were also stirring, groaning as they were prodded awake by the blunt ends of spears. A group of bandits, led by Kiva, stood at the edges of the room, watching them with cold, calculating eyes.
Yogan's heart sank. They had been captured.
Kiva stepped forward, her scarred face twisted into a smirk. "You put up quite the fight back there. But not enough, clearly." She paced slowly, her boots echoing against the stone floor. "I've heard interesting things about you, Yogan. That power you unleashed during the Festival of Winds—when you fought your brother."
Yogan winced, the memories of that day flashing through his mind. He had no idea what she was talking about. "I… I don't know what you mean."
Kiva's eyes narrowed, a predatory gleam flickering in them. "Don't play dumb. The whole region's heard the rumors. You unleashed something that day—something no ordinary airbender could."
Daiko, the group's strategist, stepped forward, his lean frame moving like a shadow. "The prevailing rumor," he said, his voice calm and composed, "is that you were possessed by a powerful spirit. That's why you have no memory of what happened during the festival."
Yogan's blood ran cold. "A spirit? I—"
Kiva cut him off, her voice sharp. "That's right. And we've seen the same energy in you now, even if you don't realize it. That lingering power—it's unlike anything we've seen since the legendary warrior Wan."
The name struck Yogan like a bolt of lightning. Wan. They knew about him, but not his true legacy. No one did. They didn't know that Wan had fused with Raava, the spirit of light, or about the epic battle with Vaatu during Harmonic Convergence.
Kiva's eyes gleamed with ambition. "We don't care about the temple, Yogan. That was just a distraction. What we're really after… is you. Your connection to this spirit. If we can draw out that power in you, maybe we can make it ours too."
Renji, though weakened, glared defiantly at Kiva. "You're insane. You think you can just 'borrow' a spirit's power? Only someone like Wan, who mastered all four elements, could ever hope to do something like that."
Kiva's smirk widened. "We'll see about that."
Daiko and Sorin exchanged a knowing glance but said nothing. The bandits clearly had a plan, though they were smart enough to keep the details hidden.
Yogan's mind raced. His connection to Wan, his friends' lives hanging in the balance, and now this impossible scheme by Kiva and her gang. He didn't know how to stop them, but one thing was certain: time was running out.
Yogan sat quietly, his mind a storm of confusion and fear. The damp, cold air of the dimly lit room pressed down on him like a weight, but the fear gnawing at his heart was far heavier. Kiva's words echoed in his mind, her taunts about the power he had supposedly unleashed during the Festival of Winds. He had no memory of that day—nothing but fragmented glimpses of chaos and wind.
A spirit, Yogan thought, his hands trembling slightly as the idea sank in. Could it be? The same spirit that possessed Wan... could it have possessed me?
His chest tightened with the thought. Wan had fought alongside Raava, the spirit of light, during the first Harmonic Convergence. Could that connection have somehow passed to him? He had seen Wan in the spirit world, felt his presence deep inside himself. Could that be why he was able to see Wan so clearly, why their destinies seemed to intertwine?
If that spirit has truly possessed me, does that mean... Yogan's breath hitched. Does that mean I could learn the other elements, like Wan did?
It seemed impossible. Air was all he had ever known. The very idea of mastering the other elements felt like grasping at shadows. But the possibility—just the thought of it—both terrified and intrigued him. He could almost see the glint of flame in his hand, feel the cool touch of water, or the firm strength of the earth beneath his feet.
But before his thoughts could spiral any further, Yogan's musings were interrupted by a sharp, metallic clank. He flinched as Kiva and her lieutenants advanced toward him, the sound of their boots echoing ominously off the stone walls. Their eyes gleamed with a dangerous mix of ambition and madness.
Kiva crossed her arms and gave him a predatory smile. "It's time to begin."
The bandits moved quickly, dragging Yogan to the center of the room. His heart raced as they bound his wrists to stone pillars, locking him in place. Beside him, Renji, Kezin, and Kuno struggled against their captors, but it was no use—there were too many of them, and their bindings were too tight.
Daiko, the strategist, stepped forward, holding a thin, twisted metal artifact in his hands. "This," he began, his voice low and menacing, "is an ancient relic from the old times, designed to harness the power of spirits. But instead of controlling them directly, we'll use it to... amplify the spirit already within you."
Yogan's stomach lurched as Daiko approached, his expression cold and calculating. The artifact in his hands seemed to hum with malevolent energy, casting strange shadows on the stone walls.
"What... what are you going to do to me?" Yogan asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Kiva's grin widened. "We're going to draw out the spirit that lurks inside you. The same one that gave you power during the festival. With it, we will be unstoppable."
Before Yogan could protest, Daiko activated the relic. A sharp, piercing light erupted from the device, illuminating the room in a harsh, unnatural glow. The energy slammed into Yogan's chest, filling him with a searing, burning pain.
Yogan screamed as the energy tore through him, his body convulsing violently against the restraints. It felt as though his very soul was being ripped apart, his mind fractured into a thousand pieces. Every nerve in his body was ablaze with agony, and all he could hear was the pulse of the artifact and the laughter of his captors.
Wan... help me! Yogan's mind screamed, but no answer came. He was alone in his torment.
The bandits watched with hungry anticipation, their eyes gleaming as the artifact continued to work its dark magic. Kiva leaned in, her voice cold. "We can feel it. The power inside you... it's waking up."
But something was wrong.
Instead of drawing out the spirit, the relic was distorting the energy within Yogan. The room darkened, and the air grew thick with malice. An oppressive, suffocating presence filled the space, one that Yogan could feel slithering beneath his skin, clawing its way to the surface.
"No..." Yogan gasped through gritted teeth, his body shaking uncontrollably. "You don't know what you're doing!"
Suddenly, the energy shifted. The relic faltered, its glow sputtering as the air around them crackled with a different kind of power—one that Kiva and her lieutenants had not anticipated. The malevolent presence they had summoned was not Yogan's spirit, but something darker, something far more dangerous.
A chilling voice, ancient and full of malice, echoed through the chamber.
"Fools..."
The temperature dropped, and the walls of the room began to tremble. Out of the shadows emerged a dark, swirling figure—a spirit, but one tainted by Vaatu's chaotic influence. It radiated a sinister energy, its form twisting and shifting like a storm of darkness.
The bandits recoiled, their faces pale with fear. "What is that?" Sorin growled, stepping back with his hammer raised defensively.
Daiko's smug demeanor vanished as he stared at the spirit in horror. "This... this wasn't supposed to happen!"
The spirit snarled, its form crackling with dark energy. "You tried to control what you did not understand, and now you will pay the price."
With a deafening roar, the spirit lunged forward, sending shockwaves through the room. The bandits scrambled to defend themselves, but their attacks did nothing to slow the spirit's rampage. Weapons clattered to the floor as the spirit blasted the group with waves of destructive energy, throwing them across the room like rag dolls.
Yogan struggled against his restraints, the chaos unfolding around him, but the fear that had gripped him was quickly replaced by something else—a rising power within him. His mind screamed in protest, but his body responded to the surging energy coursing through his veins.
The spirit's presence was awakening something deep inside him.
His vision blurred, and for a moment, the pain that had wracked his body vanished. He felt the air around him tremble and shift, responding to his very breath, his heartbeat. And then, his eyes began to glow.
A bright, blinding light surged from Yogan's body, his gaze fixed on the dark spirit that threatened to destroy them all. The Avatar State had been triggered, though Yogan had no understanding of its true meaning or power. His eyes were filled with white light, and suddenly, the room exploded in a whirlwind of air.
Yogan's airbending reached levels he had never imagined. Massive gusts of wind tore through the chamber, ripping apart the stone walls and sending debris crashing to the floor. The bandits were thrown back, their bodies helpless against the raw, uncontrollable power of the wind. Even the dark spirit recoiled, struggling to stand its ground as Yogan's airbending ravaged everything in its path.
Renji, still bound but barely conscious, stared in awe and terror. "Yogan... what are you...?"
Yogan's glowing eyes locked onto the spirit, and with a single, forceful movement, he unleashed a torrent of air so powerful that it shattered the very foundations of the building. The spirit howled in fury as it was caught in the maelstrom, its dark form dissipating, torn apart by the sheer force of Yogan's bending.
The bandits, scattered and disoriented, attempted to regroup, but the force of Yogan's Avatar State-driven airbending was too much. Kiva screamed in frustration, trying to shield herself from the destructive winds, but her efforts were in vain. Pillars crumbled, and the ceiling began to collapse.
With one final surge of energy, Yogan sent the dark spirit hurtling into the air, its form dissipating into the night sky, leaving behind nothing but a faint echo of its twisted presence.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the chaos stopped.
Yogan's eyes returned to normal, and he collapsed to his knees, exhausted and confused. The devastation around him was overwhelming—the once-imposing structure now lay in ruins, its walls shattered and crumbled. Dust hung in the air, and the bandits who had survived the onslaught lay scattered, groaning in pain.
Renji, Kezin, and Kuno had managed to break free during the chaos. Renji stumbled toward Yogan, his eyes wide with a mix of fear and admiration. "Yogan... that was..."
"I don't know what that was," Yogan whispered, his voice hoarse. His body felt drained, as if all his energy had been siphoned away. "I didn't mean to..."
Kuno, catching his breath, surveyed the destruction. "We need to get out of here before they regroup."
Yogan nodded weakly, still trying to comprehend the enormity of what had just happened. Together, the group helped each other to their feet and limped away from the devastated battleground, leaving the scattered, defeated bandits behind.
As they reached the edge of the forest, Yogan looked back one last time at the wreckage of the battle. The air still crackled with lingering energy, but the dark spirit was gone. For now.
But something was different. Something inside him had changed.
Exhausted, the group finally found a small clearing and collapsed, their bodies worn from the devastating fight. The night was still, the air heavy with the aftermath of destruction.
But despite their exhaustion, Yogan couldn't shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something far greater. Something far more dangerous than he could have ever imagined. As Yogan sat in the clearing, his body trembling from exhaustion, he couldn't help but feel the weight of what had just happened press down on him. The air around them was still, yet it felt charged—like a storm had passed but left a lingering sense of unease.
Renji, sitting beside him, rubbed his temples, trying to process the chaos that had just unfolded. "I've never seen anything like that," he muttered, his voice laced with disbelief. "What happened back there? Your eyes—they were glowing. You... you were bending like nothing I've ever seen."
Yogan shook his head, still dazed. "I don't know," he whispered, his voice weak. "I couldn't control it. It just... happened."
Kuno leaned against a tree, still catching his breath. His eyes, usually calm, were wide with unease. "Whatever it was, it saved our lives," he said. "But we need to figure out what that was before it happens again."
Kezin, who had been tending to his injuries in silence, finally spoke up. "That power wasn't normal. I've heard stories of the old legends, of airbenders who could summon great storms, but nothing like this." His eyes met Yogan's, a deep concern behind them. "We barely survived that encounter, and you unleashed something far beyond what any of us expected."
Yogan clenched his fists, his mind racing. Could it have been the spirit? he wondered. The connection to Wan felt so real, so immediate. Was this how Wan had mastered the elements? Was Yogan truly tied to that same power—the spirit of Raava that Wan had once bonded with?
But no... Wan had not mentioned anything about Raava. He had been so focused on teaching Yogan the fundamentals of airbending, not about the fusion with a spirit. Is that what I am? A vessel for some spirit I don't even understand?
Yogan looked down at his hands, the memory of the glowing eyes still fresh in his mind. For a fleeting moment during the fight, he hadn't been himself. The power had consumed him, and though he had only used airbending, it had been like nothing he had ever experienced. His bending had been... alive, wild, and destructive. It wasn't like any technique he had learned—it was raw, primal, and terrifying.
"What if it happens again?" Yogan asked aloud, his voice trembling. "What if I can't stop it next time?"
Renji, though shaken, put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Whatever it was, you saved us. But we need to understand this, Yogan. If that power is inside you... we need to find a way to control it."
Kuno nodded, his voice firm. "The bandits were after you for a reason. They believed you were possessed by a spirit, but clearly, they had no idea what they were messing with. That spirit they summoned—that wasn't the power inside you. That was something else. Something darker."
Yogan swallowed hard, the memory of the dark spirit's malevolent presence still fresh in his mind. The way it had filled the room with dread, the destruction it had caused—he had never felt anything like it. Yet, when he had entered the Avatar State—though he didn't know it as that—the spirit had been obliterated by his bending.
"What do we do now?" Kezin asked, his voice quiet. "The bandits are scattered for now, but they'll regroup. They're not done with us yet."
Yogan knew he was right. Kiva and her lieutenants weren't going to give up so easily. They wanted the power they believed he held, and now that they had seen a glimpse of it, they would stop at nothing to claim it. And the dark spirit they had accidentally summoned—was that a sign of something greater? A connection to Vaatu?
"I... I need to understand what's happening to me," Yogan said, his voice steadier now. "This power—it's dangerous. And if the bandits were willing to summon a spirit like that just to tap into it, then we're dealing with something much bigger than we realized."
Renji nodded, his expression serious. "We'll help you, Yogan. We'll figure this out together. But first, we need to rest."
Yogan sighed, his body finally succumbing to the weight of exhaustion. He leaned back against the trunk of a tree, closing his eyes as the events of the night replayed in his mind. The devastation he had caused, the way the spirit had been torn apart by his airbending—it was overwhelming.
But even as sleep began to pull him under, Yogan couldn't shake the feeling that something dark was on the horizon. The bandits, the spirit, the mysterious connection he had to Wan—it was all part of a larger puzzle, one that he barely understood.
And deep down, he knew this was only the beginning.
---
The group awoke the next morning to the soft rustle of leaves in the forest around them. The devastation from the battle was far behind them now, but the weight of what had happened still hung in the air. Yogan stood, his muscles aching but his mind clearer than it had been the night before.
As the others prepared to move, Kuno stepped forward, his voice quiet. "We need to figure out what the bandits were really after. It wasn't just the temple—they wanted you, Yogan."
Yogan nodded. "I know. And if they come for me again, we need to be ready."
Renji looked out over the horizon, his expression thoughtful. "There's more to this than we understand. Whatever connection you have to Wan, or to the spirit world, we need to explore it. The answers are out there, Yogan. We just need to find them."
The group set off, their bodies weary but their resolve stronger than ever. As they moved deeper into the forest, Yogan's mind churned with the questions that had plagued him since the battle. Who was he? Why was he connected to Wan? And what was this power that lurked within him?
Only time would tell, but for now, Yogan knew one thing for certain: he would do whatever it took to protect his friends and unlock the secrets of his destiny. Whatever lay ahead, he would face it—whether it was spirits, bandits, or his own inner demons.
The journey to uncover the truth was only just beginning.
***
Far to the northeast of the Great Continent—an expanse of land that would one day be called the Earth Kingdom—darkness stirred beneath the ground. The wind howled through the barren landscape, carrying the whispers of ancient power. No living soul ventured here; the region was desolate, forsaken by those who had once roamed its plains. But deep below the surface, buried beneath layers of stone and earth, something moved.
It had been waiting for what felt like centuries even though it was only a few hours since it was freed from the prison of Raava.
The spirit, a dark, twisted remnant of Vaatu's malice was trapped by Avatar Wan in his body, hidden behind the light energy of Raava. It drifted through the earth like a wisp of smoke, searching, yearning for a vessel. The ancient battle between Raava and Vaatu had left scars on both the mortal and spiritual realms, and though Vaatu had been defeated, his influence still lingered. The spirit, a fragment of that chaos, had survived, festering in the depths of the earth, waiting for a time when it could rise again.
Now, it was awake.
The spirit surged upward, piercing through layers of rock until it emerged near the surface. It slithered through the cracks of a cave system, its energy twisting and curling like smoke. As it moved, it sensed something—someone—above. A presence strong and filled with ambition.
A lone figure, tall and broad-shouldered, stood at the mouth of the cave, his face illuminated by the pale moonlight. His name was Kharis, a powerful warrior from the north, known for his unyielding strength and unmatched command over the earth beneath his feet. But his ambitions reached far beyond the mountains he had called home. Kharis had always sought more, and in the dark recesses of his heart, he desired power—true power—to reshape the world as he saw fit.
As Kharis descended deeper into the cave, drawn by a force he didn't understand, the spirit moved with purpose. It could feel the dark desires within him, the hunger for dominion that mirrored the chaos from which it had been born. This man—this warrior—would be its vessel.
Without warning, the ground beneath Kharis trembled. He paused, his sharp eyes narrowing as he felt the earth shift unnaturally. Before he could react, the spirit surged upward, bursting from the ground in a swirl of black smoke, enveloping him in its dark energy. Kharis gasped, his body freezing as the spirit coiled around him, seeping into his very core.
The pain was unbearable. It felt as though his mind was being torn apart, his very essence reshaped by the malevolent force. The spirit's voice echoed in his mind, deep and filled with malice.
"Vessel... you are mine now."
Kharis screamed, his hands clutching at his head as the spirit's energy surged through him, taking root in his soul. His vision blurred, and his body trembled as the possession took hold. But as the pain subsided, something else rose within him—a dark power, stronger than anything he had ever felt before.
The spirit spoke again, but this time, its voice was softer, more seductive. "You will bring back my master. You will bring back Vaatu."
Kharis's eyes snapped open, now glowing faintly with a sinister light. His heart raced, but a slow, twisted smile spread across his face. He could feel the power coursing through him, bending the very earth beneath his feet to his will.
"I will bring him back," Kharis whispered, his voice a low growl. "I will bring back Vaatu, and I will reshape the world in his image."
From that moment on, Kharis ceased to be the man he once was. He became something more, something far more dangerous. With the spirit of Vaatu's minion fused with his soul, Kharis would go on to become a legend—a conqueror. He would unite the scattered tribes of the north, crush his enemies with his newfound power, and eventually carve out an empire that would become the foundation for the Earth Kingdom.
History would remember him as Kharis, the First Earth King—a man who had risen from the depths of obscurity to become a ruler of unparalleled might. But few would know the dark truth behind his rise, the spirit that had possessed him, and the ancient malice that guided his hand.
As Kharis's power grew, so too did the influence of the spirit within him. And though the Earth Kingdom would eventually emerge from his conquests, the shadow of Vaatu's influence would linger, waiting for its moment to rise again.
***---***
The fire crackled softly as the mysterious woman continued her tale, her voice steady and unwavering. Korra, Bolin, Mako, Asami, and Tenzin, along with his children, sat in silence, their eyes locked on her as she spoke of events long forgotten by most of the world. The story of the second Avatar—Yogan—was unlike anything they had ever heard.
Korra leaned forward, her brow furrowed. "Is that why you wanted me to hear the full story of the second Avatar? Because of his connection to Wan and... everything that happened with Raava?"
The woman nodded slowly, her eyes gleaming with the weight of centuries of knowledge. "Yes. What you're hearing now is the beginning of Yogan's true legacy. His connection to Wan and Raava was growing stronger, though at that time, they were as far apart as the sun and the earth. But this moment, this awakening, was what set Yogan on the path to becoming the second Avatar."
Bolin, his face scrunched in confusion, raised a hand. "Wait, wait. So... the First Earth King, Kharis—he was possessed by a spirit? Is that for real?"
The woman's smile was thin, her gaze distant as if recalling memories older than anyone present. "A lot can change in ten thousand years, Bolin. The Earth Kingdom you know today is not the same as the one Kharis gave rise to. Over the centuries, many empires have risen and fallen across the elemental nations."
She glanced at Korra, her eyes narrowing with meaning. "Even Yogan, as I mentioned before, became the First Air King. But that was still many years into the future. The world was a much different place then."
Mako crossed his arms, clearly unsettled by the implications. "And this Kharis... what happened to him?"
"Kharis brought about the rise of the first great Earth Kingdom, but his conquest was not without great cost," the woman explained. "He was consumed by the very power he sought to control. His legacy shaped the Earth Kingdom into what it would eventually become, but that spirit... it left a dark mark on his rule. The truth of his possession has long since faded from history."
Tenzin, who had been quietly absorbing the story, finally spoke. "The nations were so different then. It's hard to imagine an Earth King with that kind of power, or an Air King for that matter."
The woman smiled, though there was no warmth in it. "The world has changed many times over. Five thousand years ago, the airbenders succeeded where the Fire Nation failed during the Hundred Year War. They conquered the entire world."
Korra, Bolin, Mako, and the others exchanged stunned glances. "The airbenders... conquered the world?" Korra asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
The woman nodded, her gaze sharp. "Yes. Though all four nations came close to global domination at one point or another, none succeeded as the airbenders did. They were not always the peaceful monks you know today. Yogan's story is just one thread in a vast tapestry of history."
The fire flickered as her words hung in the air, leaving the group in a stunned, contemplative silence. The tale of the second Avatar had only just begun, but the weight of what was to come was already pressing down on them.