Black smoke encompassed the night sky, blotting out the moon above. The roar of flames filled the air, swiftly followed by screams of men, women, and children alike. Soldiers in red and black armor could be seen slaughtering tribes' folk by the dozens, from skewering them on the ends of their spears, to engulfing them in a torrent of fire.
It was a massacre in all sense of the word. What was once a land of pure-white snow had become akin to hell, with the earth transforming into a sea of blood and the sky itself raining embers.
A ways away from the battlefield, atop an iceberg overlooking the chaos, a few dozen people had gathered. Each of which wore blood-red robes with a strange symbol stitched into the clothing, adorning their jewelry, and branded onto their bodies. At the forefront of the strange group was an elderly man with milky eyes blinded by age, wrinkly skin, and quivering steps.
While he walked ever closer to the edge of the cliff, it became apparent there was something within his grasp. An infant to be precise. Turning to face his peers, a coarse and sinister voice left his lips.
"Oh, dear child of the Moon, oh, dear child of the Sea, born from within the suns shadow. Misbegotten, yet not forgotten. I beg of you, heed your humble servants call tonight. Embers have turned my clan to ash, and our time has run out. Just like you, the world has forsaken us, rebuked and rejected our existence. Treated as a plague and forced into hiding those who remain are doomed to die out in silence...we REFUSE."
Raising a finger, the elder gave his followers a signal. Without any semblance of hesitation, they began marching in a strange fashion. Back and forth, to and fro, roundabout, and in-between. The moment a rhythm was built, each of them withdrew a blade from seemingly nowhere and cut their wrists.
What started as a drop, soon became a flood as their life essence flowed from them at a hastened pace. Sensing the sands of time closing in, their enthusiasm only increased, and like a haunting symphony they sang in unison.
"Blood."
"What is the price of victory?"
"Blood."
"What do we shed?"
"Blood."
"What do we lust for?"
"Blood."
"What is eternal?"
"Blood."
"Blood for who?"
"Blood for the Blood God!"
With their final shout, the fanatics crumpled the floor simultaneously. Body and blood in their wake had left a familiar symbol drawn within the snow. The elder watched on with a cruel smile on his face, before turning his attention to the child in his hands.
"Though we were ostracized and abandoned by our people, I have faith you will show not only the tribes, but the WORLD that we are still here. I have faith the Lord will answer our call, our sacrifice, and bestow upon you a blessing worthy of his avatar. I'll be watching, from beyond. Show me child, show me blood."
Pulling the child close, the elder crept ever closer to the edge of the cliff, extending his arms and hanging the boy over its edge. At the same moment the sound of hurried footsteps filled the surroundings.
"Not another step." Shouted an unknown figure.
Slowly turning his head, the old man's eyes widened a bit.
"Hm? Oh, my! You look just like him. I know he must hate that. Tell me, how is that old fool Azulon?"
"Heretic, you dare speak ill of the Fire Lord in front of his very own son? I'd planned to give you a swift death, but you've forced my hand." Sneering at the elder, the prince darted forward, sending a torrent of flames toward the defenseless man.
"My, oh my. To so strongly defend a man who wants you dead. Are you perhaps a masochist?" A spine-chilling cackle left the elder's mouth as he casually swiped his hand.
"Wha-"
Before he could begin to question the geezers' words, his torrent of flames was abruptly snuffed out, followed quickly by his advance. As if snatching an apple from a tree, his body was brought to a complete stop, before being pulled uncontrollably into the old man's grasp.
Giving him a toothless smile, the elder patted his cheek a few times.
"I may be at the end of my life, but you're still much too young to be a threat to me, boy. I wonder what you did to incur Azulons ire to this degree? His own flesh and blood, and he sent you on a suicide mission."
"W-Who are you? What are you?" Croaked the young man with fear filled eyes, as he struggled to find air.
While releasing his hand from his throat, the geezer didn't release control of the prince's body.
"Don't worry, boy. If I killed you, it would just be helping that old bastard, and I'd rather you kill me than that. Considering your very own father, and possibly your family, have conspired against you, how would you like to get even...while granting a dying man his last wish?"
Eyeing his captor quizzically the young man greedily indulged in his newfound source of air. "My family and I may have our issues, but to suggest they'd plot to kill me is absurd. Don't try to beguile me old man, if not for this hellish trickery holding me in place, I'd have your head."
"Oh, but if only you truly believed that. You know as well as I how conniving that bastard is. I've no doubts your elder brother is just as much a sycophant. Azulon already knows I'm not long for this world, nor a threat to him, this was just him hoping to get a final laugh." Face growing red in anger, the old man began to spit curses.
"Say your words hold true...what exactly do you want from me? To kill my father and brother in the name of your vendetta? If so, you may as well kill me now. I'll question and handle them myself, not because I was threatened to!" An equally harsh light shining in his eyes, the young man rebuked his captors' words.
"CHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE"
Nearly keeling over from laughter, the elder tightened his grip on the infant before waving his hand once more. Surprise filled the prince's eyes as he regained control of his movements, and slowly stretched his sore muscles.
"Now, now, when did I say all that? What is it with Fire Benders and their pride. No, my request is quite simple. Take this child and protect him, raise him as your own, say he's a bastard, say you picked him up on the street. I don't care. Just make sure he survives, until he's done." The aged man shook his head in exasperation, before revealing the babe in his grasp.
Hm? Truthfully the young man hadn't even acknowledged the child's existence until then. Even now, he gave it no more than a passing glance before questioning further.
"You want me to raise this water tribe lovechild? Surely there's more to this? Matter of fact, what do I even get out of it? Ahem, letting me live aside."
"Hm? I'll have you know, his name is Vlad, and who said he was of the water tribe? I assumed a chance at vengeance against those who conspired against you was enough. Since that's not the case, then I can assure you beyond a doubt, this child can and will secure not only your rule, but your children and their children's children. If given the chance to grow, he will be your greatest asset, an agent of chaos...a conductor of your will." While his words were more cryptic than ever, the weight they were spoken with made them all the more believable.
"A... very bold claim. I seem to recall you said he has to survive until he's done. Done with what?" Hearing the senile man's ramblings had rather unexpectedly gotten his blood boiling in anticipation. What if his words held true?
This excitement was sadly cut short as the atmosphere became heavy. The wind began to howl, and the ash that filled the sky steadily became buried, replaced by an overflow of snow. A tornado of ice was created placing the duo at its eye, while its creator took another step backward.
At the same instant, his tornado exploded outward utterly parting the once ashen black sky and revealing the full moon above. Crystals of ice and snow cascaded downward resembling manmade stars. Infant in hand, he raised it upward as if offering it into the moon's embrace, before releasing his hold of him.
The prince could only stare dumbfounded as the babe fell in slow-motion toward the sea of blood and corpses littering the island's coast. With a sigh, the elder finally responded.
"Spilling blood."
No sooner had the words left his mouth, the man he fell off the iceberg's edge limply plummeting after the child.
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(POV Ozai)
Reacting as quickly as I could given the situation, I rushed to the cliff's edge gazing down upon the carnage below. While the old man's broken and twisted corpse could be seen somewhat sticking out of the seat of blood below, the child was another story.
How the hell was I supposed to protect something if you killed it first? Leaping from my position I used flames to slow my descent, before landing in a sickening squelch of flesh and blood. Wading through the cesspool of limbs and melting snow I ignored the surrounding soldiers' confused looks.
Spotting a small arm sticking up from the grime, I reached down and yanked the infant from death's grasp. When I raised it upward, I questioned whether or not it was still alive, only to receive my answer barely a moment later. His eyes snapped open, revealing a haunting red glow.
As if responding to its awakening, the blood encompassing its body began to squirm and slither before coalescing in a singular point on his arm forming a strange symbol. (IMAGE)
During that same instant, the moon began to bleed. At least, that's the best way I could describe what I saw. A trail of blood seemed to cascade down the moon, before it was engulfed entirely. Although but for a moment, the world was bathed in blood.
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(POV Iroh)
When Ozai had returned from his expedition with an infant in hand, I'd all but died from shock. Ursa was quite literally in the process of giving birth to his next child and here he was galivanting around having bastards? Wasn't it enough that he actively contradicted and fought against our father any chance he got?
Thankfully, after a stern interrogation he assured me that it wasn't his own, but a child he'd saved from captivity. According to him the water tribe they'd destroyed had captured and killed the boy's parents, so he'd decided to take him in as his own.
To say I was skeptical was an understatement. While I certainly believed it wasn't his child, I wasn't sure what to make of his story. He was lying but why? What did he gain from it? Ignoring that matter for now, I couldn't help but wonder how he expected to explain this to father, or Ursa for that matter.
"I'm surprised to see you so concerned about me. I'd worry about your own family if I were you, dear brother." Had been his rather curt, if not ominous response.
Whatever the case, after our discussion he had faced father's understandable and predictable wrath. Azulon was many things, being supportive of Ozai wasn't one of them. He'd threatened him with just about everything imaginable and yet for some unknown reason, Ozai was unflinching.
Even at the risk of losing his official title, he'd demanded that the child be allowed to live in the palace as his bastard. Perhaps out of utter stupefaction at his son's stubbornness, Azulon somewhat relented. Much to my surprise.
His terms were as followed, the child would have no relation to the royal family. It was an insult that Ozai himself had brought him here, and even requested it, however, he would be designated as his children's retainer. That would enable him to reside in the palace, though in a servant's quarters, and still receive Ozais protection/support.
Despite brother technically achieving what he wished, the price was a dire one. Both fathers' pettiness and ire knew no bounds, as he would proceed to miss his granddaughter's birth, not attend the naming ceremony, nor provide additional support to Ozais military endeavors.