This Kingdom did not wake the way the slums of the Fire Nation did.
It didn't jolt into motion with bells or calls or hurried feet. It unfolded. Lanterns dimmed gradually as dawn bled pale blue across the canals. Market boats drifted into place without raised voices. Doors opened softly. People moved like they trusted the ground beneath them not to change.
That should have comforted me.
It didn't.
My gut rotted just thinking of the cracks that lay under the kingdom's icy surface.
I stood on the iceberg overlook outside Tadewi's temporary residence, arms folded against the chill wind rolling in from the sea. Below, the refugee camp stirred slowly—Air Nation families rising with the sun, children chasing each other between canvas shelters, elders greeting one another with quiet nods instead of grief-heavy embraces.
They were alive.
That would always matter.
Still, the unease wouldn't leave my chest.
Behind my ribs, Kagutsuchi stirred, restless as a flame denied oxygen.
Too calm, little flame, he murmured. Too measured.
Njord's presence followed, slower, heavier.
Water that never churns hides its depths.
I exhaled slowly and watched the tide curl against the cliffs below.
I wanted this place to be real. I wanted sanctuary to mean something again.
But wanting had never changed the truth.
There is no such thing as sanctuary.
Footsteps approached behind me—soft, hesitant, out of rhythm with the Water Kingdom's careful grace.
I turned.
The man standing there did not belong.
He wore Water Kingdom colors, but badly—armor scuffed, cloak fastened wrong, eyes darting too often toward the harbor behind him. His breathing was uneven, as if he'd run too far, too fast, with something chasing him that wasn't visible.
"Primal Dragon," he said, bowing too deeply. "I—I was told to find you."
My spine went still.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
His mouth opened. Closed. Swallowed.
"He said… he said it was important."
My pulse ticked faster.
"He?" I prompted.
The man's eyes flicked up to mine, wide and afraid.
"The Lightning Prince."
The world narrowed.
For a moment, all I could hear was the wind and the blood rushing in my ears.
"Tell me," I said evenly.
The messenger took a shaky breath.
"He said to tell you," the man recited, voice trembling, "that he has a gift for you."
Kagutsuchi flared sharply. Njord recoiled like a tide dragged backward.
My jaw tightened.
"And?" I said.
The messenger swallowed again.
"That if you wish to accept it… he will be waiting at the Forever Twin Falls. At sunbreak. Two days from now."
Silence fell heavy between us.
Not the peaceful quiet of the Water Kingdom.
The kind that pressed.
I dismissed the messenger with a nod. He didn't wait to be told twice.
When he was gone, I let myself breathe again.
A gift.
I huffed a quiet, humorless laugh.
Of course it would be framed that way.
Raiden always did have a gift for theatrics.
His wording was intentional.
If he wanted to kill me, he would have. If he wanted me captured, he would have made sure of it.
This?
This was a choice.
A summons.
Behind my ribs, Kagutsuchi burned hot.
He toys with you.
Njord's voice followed, low and uneasy.
Water remembers lightning. This is not coincidence.
I turned back toward the camp.
Tadewi would need to know.
Tadewi listened without interrupting.
She sat cross-legged at the low table inside her dwelling, hands folded loosely in her lap, expression unreadable as I repeated the message word for word. Willow stood near the entrance, arms crossed tightly over her chest. Revik leaned against the far support beam, face pale but eyes sharp.
When I finished, no one spoke at first.
Finally, Tadewi exhaled slowly.
"This is not a duel," she said. "And it is not a threat."
Revik scoffed. "It sounds like both."
"It is positioning," Tadewi corrected calmly. "Raiden is drawing a line in the water. He wants to know whether she will cross it."
Willow's jaw tightened. "The Forever Twin Falls are considered neutral ground. Sacred, even. No standing army has occupied them in generations."
"Which makes them perfect," I said quietly.
Revik pushed off the beam. "You're not going."
I met his gaze. "I didn't say I was going to."
"You don't have to," he snapped. "I know you, Lyra, and I know what you're thinking. The answer is no."
Tadewi lifted a hand, silencing him gently. "This decision is not yours to forbid."
Revik turned on her, frustrated. "Like hell it's not! She is like a little sister to me! We barely survived the prison. Raiden is corrupted. Whatever he's planning—"
"—is already in motion," Tadewi finished. "Refusing to engage does not stop a storm. It only means you are unprepared when it arrives."
Willow looked at me then. Really looked.
"He didn't demand you come," she said slowly. "He invited you."
I nodded once. "That's what scares me."
Because Raiden had always been at his most dangerous when he waited.
The Water King received us that afternoon. News around here seemed to travel fast.
He greeted us with the same open smile, the same easy warmth, as if nothing in the world were wrong. Sunlight filtered through the tall windows of his audience chamber, glinting off the water-carved pillars and casting rippling reflections across the polished floor.
"Primal Dragon," he said pleasantly. "I trust you are settling in well."
"Well enough," I replied.
He gestured for us to sit. I remained standing.
"I was informed," he continued evenly, "that the Lightning Prince has issued you a message."
I lifted my brow in fake surprise. "Well that was quick."
"I know everything that goes on in my kingdom. A good king always does," he boasted.
"Oh, is that so?" I murmured.
"So, did he give you a message?" he asked impatiently.
"Yes," I said. "He's requested a meeting at the Forever Twin Falls."
The King hummed thoughtfully. "Ah. A symbolic location."
"You knew what the message was. Why ask?" I said flatly.
His smile softened, not faded. "To see if the messenger relayed the correct information to both of us."
Behind my ribs, both gods bristled.
"I advise against it," he added smoothly. "Naturally. The Falls are dangerous, politically speaking."
"Dangerous to whom?" I asked.
His eyes flickered—just a fraction.
"To peace," he replied.
There it was.
"I'm also investigating slave trafficking routes through your ports," I said, watching him closely.
He sighed, as if mildly inconvenienced. "Unfortunate rumors. We take such accusations seriously, of course."
"But?" I pressed.
"But rumor is not proof," he said gently. "And acting rashly could destabilize trust."
Trust.
I felt something cold settle in my gut.
He was asking me to wait.
To be patient.
To let children disappear quietly.
Njord's voice rolled through me, heavy with warning.
Still waters hide undertows.
"I will consider your advice," I said.
He inclined his head, satisfied.
I left without bowing.
That night, I couldn't sleep.
I stood again at the overlook, watching the sea churn far below, thinking of Raiden—of the prison, of the kiss, of the way his eyes had looked when Willow pinned him to stone.
He hadn't chased us.
He'd waited.
I pressed my fingers together, then reached inward, brushing the thin, fractured thread between us.
It didn't pull.
It didn't resist.
It simply… existed.
"I don't know what you're playing at," I whispered to the dark. "But I'm not running anymore."
The wind answered softly, steady as if giving permission.
Two days.
Forever Twin Falls.
I would go.
Not because he summoned me.
But because there is always a reason for his actions, and I must figure out what this meant.
I was done pretending that I hadn't already made my decision.