Ren

The wind over the Southern Air Temple was cold today. You sat on the edge of the parapet, your legs dangling into the abyss, while the currents held you aloft.

Ren emerged from the tower's shadow, wearing the red and black robes of the Fire Nation, alien and intimidating among the white walls.

"You can't be here," you said quietly, without turning around. "The monks are actively searching for spies after the raid on the Capital."

"I don't care about the monks," Ren stepped closer, and you felt the familiar warmth against your back. "My father, the general, found out about us. He believes the air mage is defiling the purity of our dynasty. Tomorrow I'm being sent to the front lines."

You turned sharply. A gust of wind blew yellow leaves from the trees, swirling them between you.

"To the front lines? But that's certain death!" Tears welled in your voice. "Why can't our people just..."

"Because the Avatar disappeared a hundred years ago," Ren interrupted. A fierce flame flared in his palms. "The world is split. My people burn yours, and yours despise mine. We are enemies by birth."

You stepped straight into the heat of his flames, dispelling the fire with a wave of your hand, and grabbed his burning wrists. By the laws of the universe, air only fuels the fury of fire. Your connection was a dangerous anomaly.

“I don’t care about the war, Ren,” you whispered, looking into his amber eyes.

Below, at the foot of the mountain, the roar of Fire Nation war horns sounded. The pursuit had arrived.