The flame that doesn't burn, but erases matter. The perfect weapon. And also, the symbol that Ren was no longer Ozai's tool. He was something no one could contain. Not even prison. Ren called it: "Pure Fire." A fire formed not by expansion, but by extreme compression, a point where the flame ceased to be heat and became absolute destructive force. His thoughts, cold and sharp, were reinforced. His vision of the world was stripped of sentimentalism. And every night, before sleeping, he imagined Ozai's face when he saw what he had become.
The fire you cannot control is the fire that consumes you.
Ren opened his eyes in the darkness.
—"Two years…" he whispered. "It's time."
The sound of footsteps in the distance indicated someone was approaching. Ren smiled. He knew exactly who it was.
Azula.
THE LIBERATION OF REN
"The Weapon Returns to the War"
The deepest dungeon in the Fire Nation had a silence that weighed like wet ash. The only light came from distant torches that barely reached the central cell: Ren's. Two years of imprisonment had changed him. He didn't look defeated, but concentrated. Polished. Like a sword kept in its sheath for too long.
The echo of footsteps broke the stillness. Ren opened his eyes. The steps were firm, uniform, rhythmic. They didn't belong to just any soldier; the sound of the heel, the height of the step, and the subtle sway of the walk were unmistakable.
Azula.
The princess stopped in front of the bars. Her golden gaze shone, but it was a strange shine: a mix of irritation, then… relief? curiosity? pride? It was hard to decipher. Behind her came two elite guards, both tense as overstretched strings.
Azula raised a hand, ordering them to stay back.
—"Ren," her voice sounded firm, but it held an electric vibration, as if something were boiling beneath the surface. "My father summons you."
Ren remained seated in the center of his cell, meditating, his back straight, his body relaxed… until he slowly opened his eyes. The white light emanating from his iris for a millisecond was almost imperceptible. But Azula saw it. And her breath stopped for an instant.
—"Your father needs me now?" Ren asked, his voice calm, almost disinterested. "I thought I was a… condemned sacrifice, forgotten. I believe those were his words, weren't they?"
Azula clenched her jaw.
—"Don't repeat that," she spat out faster than she intended. "My father… has changed his mind."
Ren arched an eyebrow.
—"Zuko failed, didn't he?"
Azula lowered her gaze for just a second. Not out of pity, but out of rage. Ren noticed. She wasn't here because Ozai had ordered it. She was here because she wanted to get him out with her own hands.
—"The Avatar is still free," she finally replied. "And my father needs… more competent resources."
Azula raised her hand with a sharp snap. The guards tensed.
—"Open the cell," she ordered.
One of them hesitated.
—"Princess Azula… are you sure the—"
The blue sparks on her fingers answered before she did. The guard swallowed and opened the heavy bars, which screeched as if resisting the release of the prisoner.
Ren rose calmly. His body was marked by training: sculpted arms, perfect posture, an intensity in his movements that made even the armed guards step back. Azula watched him with calculated interest.
—"You look… different," she said, crossing her arms. "I expected no less, considering how much time you had to 'contemplate' yourself."
Ren walked until he was a meter from her.
—"And you look exactly the same," he replied. "Except for the eyes… they're emptier."
Azula frowned. He had touched a sensitive spot. She knew it. And he did too. But he had no time for sensitivities.
—"Walk," she ordered, turning around. "My father wants to speak with you before assigning you your mission."
Ren didn't move.
—"Mission?" he asked, tilting his head. "Or condemnation? Because it's usually the same coming from Ozai."
Azula turned her face just enough for him to see her twisted, minimal, almost imperceptible smile.
—"I wouldn't obey orders intended to kill you," she said in a low voice. "If I wanted you dead, I would have done it myself."
The air grew heavier. Ren advanced. Now they walked together down the dark hallway, she in front, he behind, the guards following them in fear. But no one dared to get too close to Ren: something about him, a silent pressure, an invisible heat, made the air vibrate. Azula felt it too. And although she wouldn't admit it, her skin prickled.
Upon reaching the exit of the dungeon…
The red light of the torches illuminated Ren's full face for the first time in years. Azula saw it clearly then: This was not the same young man Ozai had locked up. He wasn't just stronger. He was… dangerous.
—"My father is sending you after the Avatar," Azula informed him as they walked toward the surface. "He wants you to take Zuko's place… temporarily."
—"And you?" Ren asked. "Will you be involved in this hunt?"
Azula glanced at him out of the corner of her eye.
—"If I told you I came personally to free you, Ren, what do you think?"
He smiled, a faint, subtle, but real smile.
—"That he's sending me as a tool…"
—"And you," she added, looking him straight in the eye, "are sending me as an ally."
Azula stopped. The guards froze. The princess took a deep breath.
—"Don't confuse my interest with weakness," she warned, a thread of electricity running through her fingers. "My father wants you useful. I do too. Just… in my own way."
Ren bowed his head.
—"Then tell me, Azula…" his eyes shone for an instant with an unsettling white flash, "what is your way?"
Azula smiled, this time with genuine delight.
—"Simple," she whispered. "Let's make the Avatar's fall only the first step. The second will be my father's."
The hallway trembled. The guards let out a horrified gasp. Ren, on the other hand, smiled as if he had been waiting for exactly that comment.
—"Very well," he replied calmly. "Then the game begins."
Azula extended her hand toward the exit, inviting him to walk beside her for the first time as equals.
—"Welcome back, Ren."
Ren walked out of the dungeon. And the world—and Ozai—were not prepared for what he had become.