zuko

The air in the Republic was scorching hot, permeated with the smell of burning, ash, and ozone. The dream city he'd built with Aang and Katara for peace between nations was now crumbling into ruins. High in the sky, blocking the sun, the Sanam Temple loomed ominously in shadow—a colossal hulk that the mad airbender Taga was inexorably pulling down toward the very heart of the city. Flashes of light against the falling temple indicated that Aang had already engaged it, trying to prevent Taga from plunging the ancient staff and unleashing invisible power. But here on earth, hell had already descended. Zuko rolled sharply across the cobblestones, dodging an invisible but deadly blade of air that cleaved half a stone column behind him. The Forsaken. Filthy mercenaries who had made a deal with the airbender. They didn't know the grace of true air nomads; they used the wind only to tear, break, and kill. Back! the Fire Lord roared, throwing his arms forward. Two roaring streams of flame erupted from his fists, colliding with the enemy's wall of air. An explosion of superheated steam erupted. Zuko's golden eyes frantically scanned the street through the smoke. Somewhere beyond the neighboring buildings, the rumble of shifting earth could be heard—Toph clearly wasn't bored. From the other side, the clanking of metal and Sokka's screams drifted, along with the rush of Katara's water. They were separated. Zuko exhaled heavily, a strand of black hair escaping from his bun clinging to his sweaty face near his scar. He assumed a fighting stance, flames dancing on his fingertips, ready to burst from his hands at any moment. Another group of Forsaken leaped from the roof of the burning edifice, surrounding him.