Aang, propelled by an almost desperate eagerness, and Sokka, fueled by a competitive spirit, raced ahead, their figures shrinking against the vast, green expanse of the mountain. Katara and Alec, however, held back, a shared apprehension settling between them like a heavy shroud.
Alec's mind was a maelstrom of thoughts, a turbulent sea of empathy and dread. He watched Aang, the innocent, joyful boy, hurtling towards a truth that would shatter his world. He knew, with a chilling certainty, what Aang was about to discover. The empty temples, the silent courtyards, the profound absence of life – it would be a devastation far greater than any physical wound.
He pondered the delicate tapestry of a child's psyche, especially one as unique and burdened as Aang's. A twelve-year-old, thrust into a century-long slumber, awakening to a world that had moved on, a world that had brutally erased his entire people. Aang knew the stories, of course, the legends of the Fire Nation's cruelty, the whispers of the Air Nomads' disappearance.
But knowledge, Alec mused, was a fragile thing when confronted with the stark, unyielding reality of loss. To hear of a tragedy was one thing; to witness its aftermath, to walk through the desolate halls of one's own annihilated past, was an entirely different, soul-crushing experience.
Alec had seen the profound impact of trauma, even in his fragmented memories. He understood the insidious creep of guilt, the way it could burrow into the heart, whispering accusations of failure, of responsibility.
Would Aang blame himself for running away?
Would he carry the unbearable weight of being the last, the sole survivor, the one who should have been there?
The thought sent a shiver down Alec's spine. A child, burdened with such immense guilt, could easily break. He might retreat into himself, his vibrant spirit dimmed, his purpose lost in the crushing despair. He might even, Alec considered with a grimace, harm himself in a desperate attempt to escape the pain, to join the ancestors he had inadvertently left behind.
But then, a counter-thought, a flicker of hope, ignited within him. This was where friends came in. This was where the bonds of companionship, forged in shared adversity, became an unbreakable shield. Aang, in his innocence, might not recognize the need now, might not understand the profound comfort that a shared burden could bring. But he would. He would need someone to lean on, someone to share the crushing weight that was about to descend upon his young shoulders. And Alec, despite his own internal battles, despite his own fragmented past, felt an undeniable pull to be that someone. He had found the Avatar; now he had to protect his spirit, not just his body.
Below, the race was in full, boisterous swing. Aang, a blur of joyful energy, propelled himself forward on a sphere of swirling air, a giant airball that bounced and glided effortlessly over the uneven terrain. His laughter, light and free, drifted up to Katara and Alec, a poignant contrast to the heavy thoughts that weighed on Alec's mind.
Sokka, however, was less amused. He ran alongside Aang, his legs pumping furiously, his face a mask of indignant frustration. "Hey! No fair, Aang! You're cheating! You can't use your airbending for a race! That's like... that's like flying!"
Aang, still laughing, executed a playful spin on his airball. "It's not flying, Sokka! It's just... really fast running! And besides, you're the one who wanted to race!"
"Yeah, but I didn't sign up for a race against a human bouncy ball!" Sokka retorted, his voice strained with effort. He stumbled over a loose rock, nearly losing his footing, but quickly recovered, his competitive spirit refusing to yield.
Katara, watching their reckless descent, called out, her voice laced with concern. "Guys! Slow down! You're going too fast! This mountain can be tricky!"
Her warnings, however, were lost to the wind and the boys' exuberance. They were too caught up in their game, too eager to reach the temple, to heed her words. Alec, observing their heedless charge, felt a fresh wave of anxiety. He knew the terrain of the Air Temple, or at least, the structural details he had gleaned from his fragmented memories and the stories. He knew what lay ahead.
Suddenly, Aang, still laughing, bounced over a rise, and then, with a sharp gasp, his laughter died in his throat. Sokka, following close behind, crested the same rise, his momentum carrying him forward. Before them, where a sturdy stone bridge should have spanned a deep chasm, was nothing but empty air. The bridge, a vital artery of the temple, had long since crumbled, leaving a sheer, dizzying drop into the abyss below.
Sokka, unable to stop his forward momentum, his body still propelled by the inertia of his frantic race, stumbled at the very edge. His eyes widened in terror as the ground disappeared beneath his feet. He flailed, his arms windmilling wildly, a choked cry escaping his lips as he began to plummet into the void.
"Sokka!" Katara screamed, her voice a piercing shriek of pure terror. Aang, his playful demeanor instantly replaced by a look of horrified shock, echoed her cry. "Sokka!"
Just as Sokka's fingers scraped against the crumbling edge of the cliff, a hand, strong and unyielding, shot out and clamped around his wrist. Alec, having anticipated the danger, had sprinted forward, his own speed surprising even himself. He had launched himself at the last possible second, his body stretched precariously over the edge, his feet digging into the soil and rocks.
"Gotcha!" Alec grunted, his muscles straining, the effort sending a fresh wave of weakness through his still-recovering body. The sheer weight of Sokka, combined with his own lingering fatigue from the healing, made the task monumental. His grip, though firm, began to tremble. The cold, hard reality of the situation set in – he wasn't strong enough.
"Alec!" Katara cried, reaching them just as Alec's hand began to slip, his fingers losing purchase on Sokka's wrist. Without a moment's hesitation, she grabbed Alec's arm, her own strength, fueled by desperation, adding to the precarious chain. Aang, his face pale with fear, quickly joined them, wrapping his arms around Katara's waist, his small frame providing what little leverage he could.
Together, with a combined grunt of effort, they pulled. Slowly, agonizingly, Sokka's body began to rise. His feet scraped against the cliff face, finding purchase on a small ledge. With a final, desperate heave, they hauled him back onto solid ground. Sokka collapsed, gasping for breath, his face ashen, his eyes wide with the lingering terror of his near-fall.
Everyone was panting, their chests heaving, the adrenaline slowly receding, leaving them trembling and exhausted. Aang, after a moment of stunned silence, looked at Sokka, a mischievous glint returning to his eyes. "Well, that was thrilling!"
Katara, however, was not amused. Her face was flushed with anger, her eyes flashing. She turned on both of them, her voice rising with each word. "Thrilling?! Thrilling?! You two are absolutely reckless! You could have been seriously hurt! Or worse! What were you thinking, running off like that?! Didn't you hear me tell you to slow down?!"
Sokka and Aang cowered, their earlier bravado completely deflated. They looked towards Alec, hoping for some intervention, some distraction from Katara's furious tirade. But Alec, with a subtle, almost imperceptible shift of his gaze, pretended to be utterly engrossed in examining the crumbling edge of the cliff, allowing Katara's scolding to wash over them for several long, uncomfortable minutes. He knew they needed to hear it, to understand the gravity of their recklessness.
Finally, Katara's voice softened, her anger giving way to a weary concern. "You two are going to be the death of me, I swear."
Aang, once the immediate danger had passed, turned to Sokka, a conspiratorial whisper escaping his lips. "Katara's scary sometimes, isn't she?"
Sokka nodded vigorously, still catching his breath. "Tell me about it."
Alec, seeing the moment, the brief lull in the storm, knew this was his chance. He turned to Aang, his expression serious, all traces of his earlier humor gone. "Aang," he began, his voice low and grave. "There's something I need to warn you about. Something that's going to happen. Something you need to be prepared for."