Chapter 14: Back Home
The forest stretched in all directions, a sea of towering trees draped in moss and vines. Their thick canopy allowed only slivers of moonlight to pierce through, casting the ground in an eerie, silver glow. The air was damp, filled with the scent of pine and wet earth, and the occasional hoot of an owl or rustle of leaves sent faint echoes through the night. Somewhere in the distance, a stream bubbled softly, its rhythmic flow offering a brief reprieve from the weight of recent events.
Yogan sat by the campfire, his hands absently rubbing the smooth wood of his staff. The orange flames flickered and danced, casting shifting shadows across his face. The others were quiet, too exhausted from the fight and the narrow escape to speak. Renji lay on the far side of the camp, his body curled under a blanket as he nursed the bruises left by their last battle. Kuno sat beside him, sharpening his blade, his brow furrowed in thought. Kezin leaned against a nearby tree, his arms crossed, eyes distant as if lost in memories too painful to confront.
Yogan took a deep breath, focusing on the crackling fire before him. He couldn't let his mind drift back to the spirit world, to Wan, or to the terrifying surge of power that had flowed through him. That part of his journey—whatever it meant—could wait. Right now, his thoughts were consumed by only one thing: helping Yoan.
Yogan had barely recognized his friend in their last encounter, Yoan's eyes glazed with the effects of Kiva's hypnosis. Yoan was a shell of the person he once knew, trapped in a fog of confusion, his memories stolen by Kiva's dark magic. They had come into this forest not just to hide but to find something—herbs that Kuno had spoken of, rare plants that might restore Yoan's memories. And now, after days of recovery, it was time to act.
Yogan's gaze flickered toward Kuno, who had been unnervingly quiet for most of the evening. Clearing his throat, Yogan stood, crossing the distance between them with quiet steps. He could feel the tension in the air, an unspoken heaviness that clung to their group like a mist.
"Kuno," Yogan said softly, kneeling beside the tree where the earthbender sat. "We need to move soon. Those herbs you mentioned... they're the only chance we have to help Yoan."
Kuno's eyes remained fixed on some unseen point in the distance. His voice, when he spoke, was low, laced with uncertainty. "I know where they grow, but it's risky. The fields near my old home... they're beyond the ruins. That land has changed. It's dangerous now."
"I understand," Yogan replied, his tone steady but urgent. "But we don't have another option. We came this far for a reason, and I can't leave Yoan like this. He needs us. He needs you."
Kuno was silent for a moment, the only sound between them the crackling of the fire. Finally, he sighed, unfolding his arms and rising to his feet. His broad shoulders slumped slightly, as if burdened by an invisible weight. "We leave at first light," he said, meeting Yogan's gaze. "But we'll have to be careful. If we're spotted..."
"We won't be," Yogan cut in, a note of determination in his voice. "We'll get in and out before anyone knows we were there."
---
The dawn broke with a muted glow, the sun barely breaching the horizon, shrouded in thick clouds that promised a day of overcast skies. Yogan and Kuno moved swiftly and silently, weaving between trees and ducking beneath low branches. The forest was dense here, more alive than the parts they had camped in, with thick undergrowth that tangled around their ankles and hidden roots that threatened to trip them. The air was heavy with moisture, and every breath tasted of moss and rain.
They hadn't spoken much since leaving camp. Kuno led the way, his steps sure, his face set in a grim mask of determination. He knew this land better than anyone; these were his old stomping grounds, though the home he once knew had long since been lost to ruin.
As they moved deeper into the forest, the landscape shifted subtly. The trees thinned, and the ground beneath their feet became rockier, dotted with old stone foundations that once held homes—Kuno's home. The remnants of a life torn apart by war and displacement lay scattered around them, now overgrown by time and neglect. Vines snaked up the sides of collapsed walls, and moss clung to broken tiles and shattered beams.
Yogan glanced at Kuno as they passed an ancient well, its stone crumbling. His jaw was clenched, his eyes dark with emotion, but still, he said nothing. Yogan felt a pang of guilt for asking him to return here, to this place haunted by memories he clearly wished to forget. But they were here for a reason.
Up ahead, past a cluster of crumbling walls, the ground sloped upward to a small clearing. Yogan's heart quickened as Kuno slowed, signaling with a silent nod toward the fields beyond. Even from this distance, Yogan could see the patches of herbs scattered among the wild grass. Pale green leaves sprouted from the earth, their edges glowing faintly in the misty morning light.
"This is it," Kuno whispered, his voice barely audible. "The herbs we need."
Yogan scanned the area carefully. The fields were open, exposed. The ruins offered some cover, but anyone passing by might spot them if they weren't careful.
"Let's move quickly," Yogan said, keeping his voice low. "We'll gather what we can and get out."
The two crept forward, sticking close to the shadows cast by the broken walls. Yogan's heart pounded in his chest as they reached the edge of the field, where the herbs grew in small clusters. He knelt beside the nearest patch, carefully plucking the delicate stems and tucking them into a pouch he carried at his side.
Kuno worked beside him, his movements swift and efficient, though his gaze darted nervously toward the horizon. The tension between them was palpable, a shared sense of urgency pushing them to work faster. Every snap of a twig, every rustle of leaves, sent Yogan's pulse racing. They couldn't afford to be caught here—not now, not with so much at stake.
Minutes passed in silence, broken only by the soft rustling of herbs as they gathered the plants. Yogan's hands moved swiftly, methodically, but his mind was a storm of conflicting thoughts. He refused to let himself think about Wan, about the connection they shared, or the terrifying power that had surged through him during the last battle. That part of him was dangerous, uncontrollable, and he couldn't afford to lose control—not now. Not while Yoan needed him.
"Yogan," Kuno whispered suddenly, his voice sharp. "We need to go. Now."
Yogan looked up, his heart skipping a beat as he saw movement at the far edge of the field. Shadows—figures moving between the trees. Bandits? Or worse?
Without a word, Yogan stuffed the last of the herbs into his pouch and rose to his feet. Kuno was already ahead of him, slipping back toward the cover of the ruins. Yogan followed close behind, his heart hammering in his chest.
They moved swiftly, retracing their steps through the broken walls and tangled undergrowth, their breaths coming in shallow, tense bursts. The shadows behind them grew fainter as they slipped deeper into the forest, but the danger was far from over.
As they reached the safety of the denser woods, Yogan finally allowed himself a small breath of relief. They had the herbs. They had what they needed to help Yoan. But something about the shadows in the field gnawed at him—a creeping sense of unease that refused to leave.
---
The journey back to camp was long and silent. Renji and Kezin were waiting for them when they returned, their expressions wary as Yogan and Kuno appeared through the trees. Yogan handed the pouch of herbs to Renji, who took it without a word, his eyes lingering on Yogan for a moment before he turned away.
"These should help," Yogan said, his voice hoarse from the tension of the morning. "We'll brew them into a tea for Yoan. It should start bringing back his memories."
Kezin nodded, though his gaze remained distant, as if lost in thought. Renji, on the other hand, seemed restless, his body tense as he moved around the camp, checking their supplies and sharpening his blade.
Yogan sat down near the fire, feeling the weight of exhaustion press down on him. The task wasn't over yet, but they were one step closer. He refused to think about the shadows in the field, about the power that still thrummed beneath his skin, waiting to be acknowledged. For now, all that mattered was helping Yoan.
Tomorrow, they would begin the process of healing his friend. And only then, when Yoan was safe, would Yogan allow himself to confront the other part of his journey—the part that connected him to Wan, and the part of himself that he feared most.
The group of four moved silently through the dense forest, their airbending abilities barely aiding them as they faced the grueling five-day journey. The forest was alive with sounds—rustling leaves, distant animal cries, and the occasional howl carried on the wind. Towering trees stretched high into the sky, their trunks coated in moss and vines, with roots snaking across the uneven ground. Despite the quiet, there was an undeniable sense that they were being watched, as if the very trees had eyes.
Yogan walked at the front, using gentle gusts of air from his staff to clear the path ahead, but his mind was far from calm. He was fed up with how little he knew about his airbending, the constant feeling of powerlessness gnawing at him. His bending felt like a mockery, his control weak and unfocused. The battle with the bandits had revealed how fragile he truly was, and it burned him to his core. Never again, he swore silently. I will never be this weak again. His hands clenched his staff tighter, willing himself to improve. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching him, its presence lurking just beyond sight, making his skin prickle with unease.
Behind him, Renji walked with purposeful strides, using airbending to lightly propel himself forward. His thoughts were clouded with worry and irritation. He had hoped to be back at the air temple by now, ready to advance the plans his family had laid out for them. This delay was ruining everything. Worse still was the unsettling power he sensed in Yogan. Renji had always considered his brother a failure, a weakling who could never amount to anything. Yet, in recent days, something had changed. Yogan's abilities, though still crude, were developing, and that shift made Renji uneasy. He can't be stronger than me. The thought made his stomach turn. But even so, Renji clung to the belief that Yogan would only slow their family's plans, remain the weakling he had always been.
Kezin followed in silence, his eyes scanning the dense trees for any signs of danger. His concern for his tribe weighed heavily on his mind. As a waterbender from a nearby coastal village, he knew firsthand how dangerous the bandit threat had become. His father had warned him of the rising tensions, and Kezin had hoped to return home with news of a plan. The airbenders in the temple, however, were unpredictable, and Kezin couldn't fully trust them. There could be spies among them, he thought, his eyes flicking toward Renji. His fingers itched to call on his waterbending, but he resisted. There were too many unknowns, and Kezin preferred to keep his true strength hidden until the time was right.
Kuno trailed behind, silent but alert. A non-bender, Kuno had grown up as a farmer, tending the fields before his life was shattered by the destruction of his village. Bandits had razed his home, and now he traveled with the group not as a skilled bender, but as a warrior. His blade, sharpened and ready, was a symbol of the strength he had honed since leaving behind the farming life. The death of his family weighed heavily on him, and each step through the forest was a reminder of the destruction he had witnessed. I wasn't strong enough to save them, he thought, gripping the hilt of his sword tightly. But I will never let it happen again.
The forest closed in around them as they continued, the trees standing like silent sentinels. Every so often, they caught fleeting glimpses of movement from the corner of their eyes—shadows darting between the trees, or the faintest rustle of leaves behind them. Yogan glanced back at the others, his eyes narrowing. "We're being followed," he said in a low voice, just loud enough for the others to hear.
Renji's lips curled into a sneer. "Paranoia suits you, brother. Maybe your weak bending is making you see things."
Kuno, however, glanced around warily, nodding. "He's right. We should keep moving. If we're lucky, whatever's watching us will lose interest."
But luck seemed in short supply. The feeling of being watched persisted, dogging their every step.
---
As they approached the outskirts of the village five days later, their exhaustion was palpable. The dense forest thinned, giving way to familiar paths lined with worn stones. The village lay at the base of the towering mountain where the first air temple stood, its spires barely visible through the low-hanging clouds. Villagers had already caught wind of their return, the rumors of their encounter with the bandits spreading like wildfire. People gathered in clusters, whispering excitedly, their eyes fixed on the group. Renji stepped forward, a scowl darkening his features.
"No one says a word to anyone until we've spoken with the elders," he barked, his voice sharp and commanding. The villagers, though concerned by the group's battered state, nodded in silent agreement. Their injuries told enough of a story, and Renji's tone stifled any further questions.
Kaiya was among the first to greet them, her face a mixture of relief and worry. Her light airbending robes billowed slightly as she approached, her eyes searching Yogan's for signs of injury. "Thank the spirits you're back. We were worried."
Yoan was with her, looking far more stable than the last time Yogan had seen him. His eyes were clearer now, though a flicker of nervousness still lingered beneath the surface. He gave a tentative smile to Yogan, who clasped his shoulder in reassurance.
The group, save for Kezin, began the long trek up the mountain to the air temple. Kezin had excused himself, saying he needed to send word to his family about the dangers posed by the bandits. Though his absence raised questions, no one pressed the matter.
The air grew colder as they ascended the mountain, the path winding through jagged cliffs and narrow ridges. Kaiya and Yoan walked beside Yogan, their airbending staffs slung across their backs, while Renji and Kuno followed in silence. As they neared the temple, they were met by the elders and the village chief, already gathered at the entrance in council. The elders turned their attention to Yoan, who shifted nervously under their gaze.
"We've been waiting," one of the elders said gravely, her eyes sharp as they settled on Yoan. "We must see the effects of the herbs. It's time to find the truth."
Yoan swallowed hard, but Yogan placed a hand on his shoulder. "It'll be alright," Yogan whispered. Yoan nodded, though the fear in his eyes was unmistakable.
Inside the air temple, the elders gathered in a circle, preparing the herbs. They brewed them into a thick tea, the strange, pungent smell filling the air. The smoke that rose from the boiling kettle had an odd color—faintly green with hints of purple swirling through it. Monk Nara, the elder airbending master, stood by with her staff in hand, her brow furrowing as she watched the smoke curl toward the ceiling.
"I know that smell," she muttered, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. Her voice carried just enough for the others to hear, causing them to exchange uneasy glances.
Yoan hesitantly lifted the cup of tea to his lips. The liquid inside shimmered with an iridescent glow, and as he brought it closer to his mouth, the smoke curled ominously around him. Before he could take a sip, Monk Nara's eyes flashed with recognition. With a swift movement, she shot a gust of wind from her staff, sending the kettle and the cup flying across the room. The kettle shattered against the wall, spilling the tea across the stone floor.
Everyone in the room froze in shock.
Monk Nara's voice cut through the silence. "Those herbs are dangerous in large quantities. If he had consumed that tea, the effects could have been disastrous."
Kuno's eyes widened in realization. "We did notice symptoms of paranoia and hallucinations in those who used the herbs before... but I didn't realize how strong they could be when concentrated like this."
A sudden, violent shudder passed through Yoan's body. He collapsed to the ground, his limbs thrashing as if overtaken by a seizure. His eyes rolled back, and he convulsed violently, his body wracked by the herbs' powerful effects. Panic swept through the room as the elders rushed forward, trying to stabilize him.
Yogan knelt beside his friend, his heart pounding in his chest. "Yoan!" he shouted, grabbing his friend's shoulders. But Yoan's body continued to shake uncontrollably, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
As the temple filled with frantic energy, Yogan could feel the weight of their journey closing in. The truth they had sought was slipping through their fingers.