Earth. Fire. Air. Water.

Years ago, Avatar Aang told the story of how he and his friends heroically ended the Hundred Year War. Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko transformed the Fire Nation colonies into the United Republic of Nations, a society where benders and nonbenders from all over the world could live and thrive together in peace and harmony. They named the capital of this great land Republic City.

Avatar Aang accomplished many remarkable things in his life, but sadly, his time in this world came to an end. And like the cycle of the seasons, the cycle of the Avatar began anew.

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[???, Somewhere in the South Pole]

NAME: ???

AGE: ???

STATUS: ???

'It hurts… Everything… hurts…'

The thought sliced through the storm's unrelenting howl, it was silent against the sharp and deafening blizzard. A child trudged forward, their small frame battered by the biting wind, their miniscule steps swallowed by the endless expanse of white and shadows.

The snowstorm felt alive—it roared that deafened any other semblance of sound, it clawed through the skin of the young boy, and it devoured everything in sight. Visibility was nothing; the landscape was a smothering shroud of white and darkness. Every direction looked the same: a void of blinding frost. Even as the child outstretched their hand, it could only vanish into the storm's grasp, as if the blizzard and night sought to erase all trace of their existence.

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Each step the child took was pure agony. The snow clung to their boots, heavy and thick, pulling their legs like frozen hands, as if it was trying to drag him under. Every movement the child did demanded an adult's effort, their small legs trembling under the weight of exhaustion and frostbite. But stopping wasn't an option. Not for him.

The young boy's entire frame quakes as the wind sliced through his thin clothing. The heavy storm showed no mercy to the weak child, burying him deeper into the cold. His breaths were getting shallow and hoarse, raw from the frozen air invading his lungs. His nose was clogged, and their throat burned with every swallow. The cold encompassed his entire body, its numbness seeping into his very bones. Yet, his back had an unnatural heat.

'Should I have gotten her out?' The question gnawed his mind, piercing through the haze of pain and frost.

There was a heavy weight against his back—small, warm, alive. They snuggled tightly behind him, bundled in most of the clothing the two had, they were comfortable and asleep, and they were the only warmth he could presently feel, the only proof that he was still conscious. That tiny presence fueled him, giving him a reminder: keep moving.

Step. Crunch. Step.

Time blurred into an endless stretch. Seconds felt like hours. Hunger clawed at his stomach, it ached and slowed him down. His legs buckled, and he fell face-first into the snow, almost burying himself in the cold. For a moment, he lingered there, feeling cold, hungry, doubtful, tempted by the thought of rest. But he still slowly climbed out of the small burial he made in the snow. He could not bear to stop.

Crunch… Step… Crunch…

The snowstorm's whiteout swallowed his vision, yet his ears continued to catch the faint breathing of the other child behind him—steady, rhythmic. It was a sign to keep going, at least to keep the other alive.

He has lost track of how many times he has fallen. Each time he hit the ground, he always made sure the person he had been carrying remained unharmed. And each time he fell, the temptation to stay down remained stronger. Everything only kept getting heavier, much heavy for a child to burden. But each time, he forced himself up again, their movements sluggish, their body screaming for respite. It was as if something inside him was forcing him to keep going.

Then, through the haze of white, something flickered. Light. Faint and distant, yet unmistakable. It wavered like a beacon just ahead. As he edged closer, the lights grew, multiplied—a village, perhaps?

Hope surged his chest, a small and fragile spark igniting against the cold.

He quickened his pace, or at least he tried to. His legs refused to obey him, trembling in exhaustion. They stumbled and fell again, face hitting the snow. For a moment, he lay still, the thought of just giving up and waiting for the villagers to find them by morning.

'If I stop here, surely someone will find us…'

But he didn't, he couldn't. Each time he almost gave in, he clung to the fragile reminder of life on his back. That soft warmth. That sleeping child.

He forced himself forward, crawling through the snow, dragging his body inch by inch. The frost bit at his hands and arms, he couldn't even feel if his fingers were still there. When their arms failed, they wriggled forward, anchoring his place with his teeth, using his chest and stomach to plow through the painful snow.

The lights grew larger, closer. With every desperate movement, the glow got clearer.

'Just a little further… just a little more…'

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[In a house, South Pole]

A woman sat slumped on the worn couch, her figure hunched over, and the weight of grief visible in every inch of her expression. Her face was pale, her skin gaunt, and deep shadows circled her reddened eyes, evidence of many sleepless nights. Her trembling hands gripped a framed portrait against her chest as if holding on to it could anchor her.

SENNA

AGE: 28

STATUS: Housewife

Her voice broke as she whispered a single name, soft yet heavy with despair "Korra"

Tears welled up in her eyes and began to spill over, tracing wet trails down her cheeks. She sniffled and wiped at her face, but the effort was in vain—the flood wouldn't stop, until it broke entirely.

Huaaa~

A wretched sob escaped her as she clutched the portrait tighter. Her body shook with emotions she was unable to suppress.

Hearing the sounds of her anguish, a tall, broad-shouldered man entered the room. His steps were loud, his gaze steady, though the worry etched into his features softened his imposing frame.

TONRAQ

AGE: 32

STATUS: Unofficial Chief of the Water Tribe

"Senna" he called softly, his voice trying to sound comforting.

He crossed the room and lowered himself onto the couch beside her, reaching out to take her trembling hand into his. He gripped it firmly, but was very gentle, giving his wife some reassurance.

It's going to be alright" he said, trying to sound steady, yet was clearly dealing with his own strain. "We won't stop until we find her and the Red Lotus"

Senna's tears fell freely, her trembling shoulders showing her doubt. "But… but… my baby… she's out there, alone…" she cried, gesturing toward the raging storm.

Tonraq tightened his grip on her hand. "I know" he said softly. "But we need to be strong right now. Sokka's already called Firelord Zuko for aid. We'll continue the search as soon as the blizzard lets up"

Before Senna could respond, something loud and sharp interrupted the moment between them.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

It echoes through the room like a demand. Tonraq rose immediately, his brow furrowing as he grabbed a metal club leaning against the wall.

"Wait here" he said firmly.

Senna nodded, clutching the portrait to her chest as her eyes followed her husband's movements. Tonraq silently made his way toward the door, his weapon held at the ready.

"Who's there?" he called, his voice competing with the howling wind outside.

But no response came.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

The knocking came again, louder this time, almost desperate.

"I said, who's there?!"

Still, silence.

Tonraq hesitated, glancing back at Senna. She kept watch at him, keeping her own guard up for him. Bracing himself, he gripped the doorknob and pulled it open in one quick motion.

The storm greeted him, icy winds tore through the entryway, hitting his skin with frost. At first, there seemed to be nothing—just endless snow and night. Then, he felt it: a weight against his foot.

Looking down, he saw a bundle of thick blankets lying at his doorstep.

"Korra!" Senna's anguished scream pierced the air as she rushed towards him, dropping to her knees to gather the bundle into her arms.

Tonraq stared, his breath catching as he realized what she held. Who she held. Their daughter, safe and was kept warm, slept soundly in the folds of the different blankets, her tiny face unbothered by the storm outside. Relief swept through him—until his eyes caught something else.

A separate blanket, left beneath his feet, seemed like it was covering something else. Tonraq knelt, his large hands carefully lifting the fabric to reveal another child beneath.

This child, not much older than his own daughter, was ghostly pale. Frost clung to their skin and hair, their lips tinged blue, and their eyes were open but unseeing. Tonraq looked over the child and saw the trail left on the snow.

'Did this child… drag his own body here?' was the only assumption he could make upon seeing it.

"Senna" Tonraq said quietly, but his voice showed urgency "Call Katara. Now"

Senna's breath hitched as she looked down. Seeing the second child, her face turned ashen. Clutching Korra close, she nodded and quickly disappeared into another part of the house.

Tonraq, left alone in the living room, gently spun the young boy on his back and softly pressed his hand on the child's chest, feeling for any sign of life. For a moment, he only felt cold—but then, faintly, something beat.

Ba-dump… Ba-dump…

"He's alive" he murmured to himself, silently sighing in relief.

Senna returned shortly, her voice shaking "Katara and Sokka are on their way"

Tonraq nodded, carrying the unconscious child carefully into the house "Get me something to warm this boy, now"

As the door shut, the storm outside howled on, its fury unabated. And it was this moment that marked the beginning of the struggle of the two children.

End