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Sozin’s comet sings above her.
Azula’s mother won’t stop whispering in her ear. Azula’s mind won’t stop screaming.
She cut her hair trying to make it stop, she cut herself trying to make it stop.
It doesn’t stop.
It won’t, no matter what she cuts away.
And then she hears her father laughing at her, at how pathetic she is, how weak, how worthless.
Suddenly, her father’s golden eyes are everywhere, in the mirror, in the decorative armor in the hallways, following her from every painting, every shadow, every corner.
Her father is in everything now, smiling sickly at her.
Azula wants everything to burn .
She runs, wild and erratic.
She doesn’t know where, or when, or what.
She finds her father preparing to leave in a palace courtyard.
When she stands in front of him, he has a strange look Azula hasn't seen before.
It's fear. Her father is afraid. Her father was the feared, not the afraid, but there is a flash of fear in his eye, and a flash of lightning is crackling around Azula’s fingertips.
She fires, he blocks.
Red flames come hurling towards her. She welcomes their embrace, but she does not burn.
The flames split before her, and blue flames shoot forward through just two fingertips.
The fire comes at her again, and again, and again, but there is not a drop of fear in her body.
With each flame sent at her, the less she thinks, the less she feels, the lighter she becomes.
The thought of her Father leaves her.
It is only her and the flame now, dancing like sun rays in the morning.
A violent fork of lightning shoots towards her, she lets it come.
The lightning flows through her arms with ease, swims through the fire in her stomach, and exits through just two of her fingers.
It starts thick as a tree trunk, and as bright as the sun itself. It roars through the sky, splitting into branch, upon branch, upon branch, till it is a tree with a thousand crackling possibilities.
The lightning’s thunderous roar shakes the ground beneath her.
She does not let it go, instead she keeps feeding it, just so that she can revel in its beauty longer.
When she does let it go, dark smoke lingers where the lightning was, like it had burned the sky itself.
She looks down from the sky to see her father, trembling, sweaty, panting for breath.
Warmth heats her back, and she is in front of him in an instant.
He is on his knees. She grips his face with one hand and just burns.
Everything is gone now but the warmth. Everything is white. Blank. Empty. Gone.
She realizes that she is simply within a column of white flames, and she is at its center.
Colors emerge from the white flame. Colors Azula has never seen before.
It's something new.
Her eyes begin to fail her, and black dots swim around her vision.
A thought crosses her mind that perhaps she is falling.
She curls around herself lying on the courtyard’s stones, clutching desperately the fire’s warmth within her.
------------
She awakens to the sun's rise and slips out of bed, dressed in a soft silk robe.
Her body feels weightless as she walks towards her balcony.
She opens the thin paper door, breathes in the morning air, and leans herself on the railing.
She watches the sun emerge from the ocean, its light illuminating the city below her.
She hears a crash from within her room and whips around. There is a metal platter on the floor, with several spilled liquids, but the girl who dropped them steps over them like they don’t exist.
The girl stops in a sunray, one hand outstretched, reaching toward Azula, like the girl wants to make sure she's real.
The girl's eyes are wide and watery, brown yet full of light. Soft.
Her mouth twitches, and she stutters, “A-Azula?”.
The memories hit Azula like a mountain falling from the sky.
Ty-Lee. May. Running around in the courtyards, playing pranks on Zuko, stealing from the palace kitchens, hiding on rooftops and secret passages.
Fire, cold as the north pole.
The circus, a flaming net, heavy armor on her shoulders, the all-consuming hunt. A pair of sharp golden eyes, forever watching her every move. Insults, biting like the bitter cold, spat as fierce as flames. Betrayal.
Fire, hot as the volcanoes that boil beneath the earth.
Azula is vaguely aware that she is falling again, but before she meets the floor, a pair of arms reach out to catch her.
“Azula!” The girl cries. She sounds concerned.
Azula wonders why as her vision fades once again.