The golden afternoon sunlight bathed the Southern Air Temple in a warm glow, casting long shadows across the stone courtyard. The gentle breeze carried the distant laughter of young monks, the rustling of wind chimes, and the fluttering wings of a certain mischievous flying lemur.
Kalsang sat cross-legged on a raised stone platform, his sharp blue eyes watching the small figure darting after a flying lemur with boundless energy. Aang, ever the playful spirit, was giggling as he leaped after the creature, arms outstretched.
"Aang," Kalsang called, his voice calm yet firm.
The boy skidded to a stop, nearly tripping over his own feet.
"Yeah?" he asked, still grinning as the lemur perched smugly atop a high pillar, tail flicking.
Kalsang shook his head, a small, amused smile playing on his lips, "You know, for someone who is supposed to be training, you seem very dedicated to chasing a lemur instead."
Aang stuck his tongue out, "C'mon, Kalsang, I am training! Look!"
With a quick motion, he pushed off the ground, using airbending to propel himself into a flip, barely catching the edge of the pillar. The flying lemur chattered and took off again, leaving Aang hanging precariously.
Kalsang sighed and stood up. With a single, effortless step, he vanished from where he was sitting and reappeared right behind Aang in an instant, the air bending around him like a whisper of wind. He grasped the boy's collar before he could fall.
Aang blinked, "Whoa~"
Kalsang set him down gently.
"You're getting better," he admitted, "But bending isn't just about jumping around. Especially your bending."
Aang dusted himself off and grinned, "I am an airbender, Kalsang. What else am I supposed to do? Stay grounded?"
Kalsang crossed his arms, "You're not just an airbender, Aang."
His voice was soft, but there was an undeniable weight to his words, "You are the Avatar. That means you have to master all four elements; air, water, earth, and fire. And before you can master them, you need to master yourself."
At that, Aang's smile faltered. His fingers curled slightly at his sides.
Kalsang's sharp eyes caught the change in his expression immediately. The light-heartedness drained from Aang's face as the reality of those words sank in. His shoulders tensed, and his gaze drifted downward, a shadow passing over his usually carefree eyes.
Kalsang didn't need to hear Aang speak to know what he was feeling. He had seen that look before; on fighters, on men burdened by duty, on those who had lost their freedom to fate.
Aang was only a child. But fate had already claimed him. Before Aang could pull further into his own thoughts, Kalsang moved.
One moment he was standing a few paces away, and the next, he was at Aang's side, his hand resting on the boy's back in silent reassurance. The wind around them barely stirred, yet he had crossed the distance in the blink of an eye.
Aang flinched slightly at the sudden contact, but when he looked up, Kalsang's expression was softer than usual, "You don't have to carry it all at once," Kalsang said, his voice quieter now, meant only for Aang, "The weight, the responsibility; it's heavy, I know. But you won't be alone. Not now. Not ever."
Aang stared at him, emotions swirling behind his young eyes; fear, uncertainty, hope. After a long moment, he exhaled, some of the tension in his shoulders loosening, "…Do you really think I can do it?" He asked hesitantly.
Kalsang's lips curled into the smallest smile, and expression he barely showed anyone other than Aang; the child whom he had begun to accept as his own brother since they were both taken by the southern Air Temple since birth, "I wouldn't have spent all these years knocking sense into you if I didn't."
Aang laughed, some of the burden lifting from his chest, "Hey! I have plenty of sense!"
Kalsang raised an eyebrow, "Says the boy who tried to ride a flying bison backward last week."
Aang huffed, "That was one time!"
Kalsang chuckled softly, then gave Aang's back one last reassuring pat before stepping away, "Come on," he said, nodding toward the training grounds, "Let's go again. We'll start with refining your airbending forms. If you want to master the other elements, you need a strong foundation first."
Aang hesitated for only a moment before grinning, "Alright, alright. But if I do well, can I at least try riding Appa backward again?"
Kalsang exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of his nose, "Spirits help me."
Aang burst into laughter, his usual energy returning. And though the weight of his duty had not disappeared, for now, with Kalsang at his side, it felt a little lighter.
…
The temple was silent beneath the silver glow of the moon.
Kalsang stood on the edge of the courtyard, arms folded, staring up at the sky. The wind whispered through the empty halls, carrying with it an unease he could not shake.
Something felt wrong. His sharp grey eyes drifted toward the large shadow resting near the temple gates; Appa. The flying bison stirred slightly in his sleep, his great form rising and falling with each slow breath.
But Aang was nowhere to be seen. Kalsang frowned. He knew the boy well enough to recognize when he was troubled, and lately, Aang had been… distant. Weighed down by something heavier than his usual concerns.
The burden of being the Avatar had been pressing down on him for years, and now, it seemed, the weight had finally become unbearable. The realization struck Kalsang like a gust of cold wind.
Aang was leaving.
Even as the thought formed, a faint rustling from the temple's upper levels caught his attention. He turned just in time to see a small, agile figure moving toward the bison. Aang, dressed for travel, his glider strapped tightly to his back.
Kalsang was in front of him in an instant, the wind carrying him silently into Aang's path before the boy could reach Appa.
Aang froze, "…Kalsang."
His voice was barely a whisper, his eyes filled with something between guilt and desperation.
Kalsang studied him for a long moment. The weight of understanding passed between them in the quiet night, "You're running," Kalsang said, his voice unreadable.
Aang swallowed hard, "I have to."
Kalsang exhaled slowly, "Why?"
Aang's grip on his glider tightened, "Because… because I can't be the Avatar," his voice wavered, but his resolve did not, "They want to take me away, Kalsang. The monks; Master Gyatso, everyone says I need to start training with the other nations now. But I'm not ready. I—I don't want this."
His breath was shaky, his small frame trembling, "I just want to be me."
Kalsang's expression remained still, unreadable. Aang's eyes darted to the side, "I know you think I'm being a coward."
Kalsang shook his head, "No. I don't."
Aang looked up, surprised.
Kalsang continued, voice softer now, "I know what it's like to want something you can't have. To want a life different from the one you were given," his gaze flickered to the horizon, "But running doesn't change fate, Aang."
Aang swallowed, his throat tight, "I just… I can't do this."
Silence stretched between them.
Then, Kalsang sighed. And when he spoke again, it was not as a teacher, but as a brother, "If this is what you've chosen," he said quietly, "then go."
Aang's breath caught, "You're… letting me leave?"
Kalsang's sharp eyes met his, unwavering, "I won't stop you."
Aang hesitated, searching his face, waiting for a trick, for anger, for disappointment. But there was none. Just quiet understanding.
"…Thank you," Aang whispered.
Kalsang stepped aside, allowing Aang to move past him. The young Avatar climbed onto Appa's saddle, his hands shaking slightly as he gripped the reins.
"Yip-Yip," he murmured.
Appa groaned softly, stretching his limbs before lifting off into the sky, his great form silhouetted against the moon.
Kalsang watched him go. The wind howled through the temple as he stood there, alone beneath the vast sky. And deep in his chest, an unfamiliar weight settled.
A foreboding feeling.
A storm was coming. And when the sun rose the next morning, the world would never be the same.
Dawn. The sky burned red. Kalsang's eyes snapped open to the sound of distant thunder; no, not thunder. Something worse.
He was on his feet before the echoes reached the temple walls. His instincts screamed at him, the air itself trembling with unnatural stillness.
Then, the first explosion hit.
Flames erupted in the distance, casting long, jagged shadows against the once-serene courtyard.
Kalsang's veins pumped adrenaline throughout his body as he instinctively prepared for a battle.
The Fire Nation was launching an offensive.
By the time he reached the outer gates, the full horror of the attack unfolded before him. Airbenders; his people, were fighting, gliders clashing with armoured soldiers, but they were overwhelmed.
Fire rained from the sky, consuming the temple, reducing centuries of history to smouldering ruins. The monks; his teachers, his brothers, untethered to combat, fell one by one. Their final cries lost in the howling winds.
Kalsang clenched his fists. The wind around him surged in response. And then, amidst the chaos, he felt it; a flicker of relief buried deep in his chest. He now knew what he had been preparing for, that uncertain feeling of impending doom constantly hanging overhead, now had a face.
The Fire Nation.
'Fear is born from the unknown. The moment it becomes known, fear cannot survive…' Kalsang, no, John recalled the Russian saying as his focus sharpened at the enemies.