Avatar: shackled earth

A week had passed since Tomo and Ariya arrived on Kyoshi Island. A month since they escaped Kael. A month since their bodies and minds had been shattered and stitched back together with nothing but sheer will.

The journey had been brutal. Wounded, half-starved, and running on little more than adrenaline, they had moved like ghosts across the land, slipping through villages, avoiding patrols, and hiding in the cover of night. Tomo had lost track of how many times he had jolted awake, breathless, the scent of blood thick in his nose, only to find Ariya watching over him with tired but steady eyes. And when Ariya's legs had given out, her body trembling from fever and exhaustion, Tomo had carried her until she could stand again.

By the time they reached Kyoshi Island, they were more than just survivors.

They were each other's tether to reality.

Kyoshi Island was unlike any place they had been before. The air smelled of salt and fresh earth, the wind carried the laughter of children, and the ocean stretched endlessly in every direction. It was beautiful. Peaceful. Safe.

And yet Tomo could not relax.

Neither could Ariya.

Chief Oyaji welcomed them with open arms, offering shelter, food, and something neither of them had dared to believe in—sanctuary. But even in a place free from Kael's shadow, the weight of their past clung to them like an unshakable curse.

The first night on Kyoshi Island, Ariya woke up screaming.

Tomo had been outside, sitting on the edge of the cliffs overlooking the water, trying to quiet the unease that gnawed at his mind. But the moment he heard her voice, raw and terrified, he was there—faster than thought, faster than breath.

She was curled in a tight ball, her body shaking, her hands gripping the sheets as if they were the only thing anchoring her to reality.

Tomo didn't hesitate. He knelt beside her, pressing a firm hand against her back, his voice steady despite the tightness in his throat.

"Ariya. Breathe. It's me."

Her eyes found his, wild and distant at first. But then—recognition.

She exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to her face. "I—"

"It's okay," Tomo murmured. "It was just a dream."

Just a dream.

But the echoes of their past never truly faded.

Ariya refused to be weak anymore.

She had spent too long being helpless. Too long feeling like a burden. And no matter how much Tomo reassured her, she couldn't shake the weight of her own guilt.

So she did the only thing she could.

She sought out the Kyoshi Warriors.

The training ground was a wide, open space near the cliffs, where the warriors practiced their forms in the morning light. Suki, the leader, was sharp-eyed and strong, her presence commanding without needing to be harsh. Ariya had stood before her, her heart pounding, but she forced herself to bow her head.

"Please," she had said, her voice firm despite the lump in her throat. "Teach me how to fight."

Suki studied her for a long moment before nodding.

"Then show me you're willing to learn."

And so, Ariya trained.

She threw herself into every lesson, every strike, every fall. She learned to move with precision, to read her opponent's stance, to strike fast and without hesitation. She learned to fight—not for vengeance, not for power, but to protect the people she cared about.

To protect Tomo.

And Tomo?

He was never far.

Tomo didn't train with the Kyoshi Warriors. He didn't need to. But he watched. Always.

No matter where Ariya went, he was within sight. He sat on the cliffs when she trained, his arms resting on his knees. He stood near the trees when she sparred, his gaze never leaving her.

And people noticed.

The Kyoshi villagers were kind, but even kindness could not erase fear.

Something about Tomo unsettled them.

It wasn't his silence, nor the way his eyes lingered too long on shadows. It was something deeper—something wrong. The air around him felt too heavy, too still. Even without lifting a hand, he carried an aura of something unnatural.

The whispers started small.

"That boy… there's something off about him."

"He doesn't talk to anyone but her."

"Did you see his eyes that night? I swear, they were darker than the sea."

No one confronted him. No one was foolish enough to try. But they kept their distance.

And Tomo noticed.

He saw how villagers took a step back when he walked by. How conversations grew quieter when he was near. He saw the wary glances, the unease in their eyes.

Once, he might have cared.

Now?

It didn't matter.

Ariya was the only one who mattered.

One afternoon, as Ariya trained, a group of younger warriors sparred nearby, laughing between matches. One of them—a girl named Riko—glanced toward Tomo, who was perched on a rock at the edge of the clearing.

"It's creepy how he just watches," Riko muttered to her friend. "Like he's waiting for something."

Tomo didn't react. Didn't even blink.

But Ariya heard.

She whirled on Riko before she could stop herself. "He's waiting for me." Her voice was sharp, unyielding.

Riko blinked. "I didn't mean—"

"Then don't say it."

The training ground fell silent.

Ariya's fists clenched, her breathing uneven. She could feel it creeping in—the rage, the helplessness, the weight of every whisper, every sideways glance. But before she could say more, a hand touched her shoulder.

Tomo.

His grip was light, but it was enough. Enough to pull her back, to remind her of where she was.

She exhaled, closing her eyes for a moment before turning back to Suki. "Again. Let's go again."

She didn't look at Riko again.

And Tomo?

He looked at everyone.

As the world moved on, in the far corner of the South, a gigantic iceberg as round as the moon drifted silently through the biting cold of the ocean's depths. It loomed like an ancient relic from another age, its perfect shape almost unnatural against the storm-tossed sea. The winds howled, cutting through the frozen expanse, and the waters churned with an unforgiving ferocity. A small fishing boat, barely more than a speck in the vast ocean, navigated the treacherous waters. The creaking of its fragile frame echoed in the silence as it drew nearer to the massive iceberg. The cold was biting, relentless... and yet, as if guided by some unseen force, the boat continued its path toward the looming monolith, oblivious to the secret it held within.