I watched Wan grow old.
Not all at once—humans never change that quickly—but incrementally, in the small ways that only long-lived beings notice. His movements slowed. His recovery after using the Avatar State lengthened. The synchronization between him and Raava remained stable, but I could see the strain accumulating in patterns that repeated each time he drew upon it.
So I studied.
Every activation of the Avatar State was catalogued. Every resonance fluctuation. Every deviation in Raava's light when filtered through a mortal nervous system. I observed not just what happened—but why.
It took forty years.
Forty years of silent observation, layered modeling, and spiritual simulation within my library before I understood it fully.
The Avatar State was not inviolable.
It was a bridge.
And all bridges could be severed.
The connection between the Avatar and Raava relied on synchronization, not fusion. It was maintained by alignment of intent, consciousness, and spiritual frequency. Disrupt any one of those elements at the correct moment, with sufficient precision—
—and the State collapsed.
Not permanently.
Not destructively.
But cleanly.
The Avatar would remain alive. Raava would remain intact. But the overwhelming amplification—the state that turned a human into a walking force of nature—would be inaccessible.
A failsafe.
I did not create this knowledge lightly.
I created it because probability demanded it.
Avatars would reincarnate endlessly. Most would be benevolent. Some would be flawed. And eventually—inevitably—one would be born whose morality fractured under power. Or one who would decide that balance required extinction rather than restraint.
I would not allow that.
For several reasons.
First:I had been human once.
I remembered fear. Curiosity. Wonder. Mortality. I remembered what it meant to struggle toward understanding with limited time. That alone made humanity… precious.
Second:Humans created knowledge at an extraordinary rate. Their fragility forced innovation. Their ignorance demanded questions. Their mistakes produced insight. Entire branches of understanding existed only because humans refused to accept not knowing.
I wanted that knowledge.
Third:Their consciousness was not entirely theirs.
I had helped ignite it.
That made them, in a way, my responsibility.
And fourth—
I admit this without shame—
Eternity is long.
Even for a primordial spirit.
Boredom is dangerous.
So I planned.
If the Avatar could not be fully trusted forever, then the world required a counterbalance that was not spiritual, not elemental, and not bound to Raava's cycle.
Something unpredictable.
Something human.
I decided on four.
One from each nation.
But not benders.
Benders were shaped by their elements. Their philosophies aligned naturally with the Avatar. Worse—they thought like the Avatar. Power mirrored power, and power was predictable.
Non-benders were not.
They relied on tools. On planning. On innovation. On exploiting gaps rather than overwhelming force. They adapted faster because they had to.
They were dangerous.
Perfect.
I would not create an army.
I would create a lineage.
The first four would be taught directly by me. Not everything—only the foundations. After that, the knowledge would propagate selectively, passed down, refined, evolved.
A shadow discipline.
Their purpose would not be to kill the Avatar.
It would be to stop the Avatar.
Only if they crossed the line.
Only if balance demanded it.
I turned inward, reviewing the techniques I would teach first.
They needed to be effective against the Avatar—but not dependent on bending.
I selected carefully.
The first techniques would be:
Spiritual Disruption Without BendingMethods to interfere with spiritual alignment using posture, breath, resonance points, and timing—derived from my Avatar State severance research.
Anti-Elemental MovementNot dodging—positioning. Movement patterns designed to exploit the inherent limitations of elemental attacks.
Chi Suppression at a Human LevelNot energybending. Too dangerous. Instead, precise biological interference—temporary, reversible, and devastating when used correctly.
Knowledge DisciplineMemory techniques. Emotional regulation. Mental resistance to spiritual influence. If Raava ever spoke to them, they would not kneel.
Only after mastering these would they learn more.
Only if they proved restraint.
I closed the volume detailing the severance technique and sealed it—encoded, layered, accessible only to me.
"For now," I murmured, "this remains theoretical."
Wan still lived.
The Avatar was still young as a concept.
But the future had already begun branching.
And I intended to be ready.