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Being just 15 years old would be hard enough already on its own, but being a 15 years old Avatar in the times following the 100 year war made for the most hectic time in Aang's life. The years of non stop traveling were starting to get to him, but there was just so much to be done – between government ceremonies, angry spirits, and Ozai loyalists, he had no time to rest. The war was over, but the work of the Avatar was far from complete.
For this particular mission, he was at a small village near Gao Lin to discuss with the mayor the construction of a dam on the nearby lake. Aang sensed that this would disturb some local spirits and headed there to prevent any trouble before it happened. It was nothing too extreme, so he was alone. Katara was staying at the northern water tribe for a couple of months, and he didn’t feel like he needed backup. Those people had a good relationship with this spirit, and the mayor seemed eager to please the Avatar.
So, after a tedious but amicable discussion of several hours and some intensive meditation in which he mediated the issue with the spirit, it was decided that the dam would be constructed some miles to the north and be much smaller, sparing a preferred spot from disruption. After they reached an agreement, Aang anticipated a quiet night and to return to Ba Sing Se the next morning with another job well done. The mayor himself offered him a place for him and Appa to stay, and he retired for the evening after dinner. As far as Avatar work went, it had been a breeze. He almost wished Sokka had been there, so they could’ve shared a celebratory dinner and patted each other’s backs.
It was in the middle of the night when he heard a tumble against his window. He was spurred awake, fully conscious and staff in hand, but nothing else happened. Putting his bare feet on the ground and using his earth bending, he sensed a small girl, probably no older than twelve, standing just outside the mayor’s garden. She appeared to be trembling slightly. Before she threw another rock, Aang decided that it was better to go into offence.
“Hey!” said Aang, opening the window and smiling brightly at the little girl “Would you like to talk for a bit?”
It was the right thing to do – after staring at him with big eyes for a moment, the girl seemed to relax after understanding that the Avatar was friendly and not much older than her. She quietly nodded, still clutching a small pebble in her hands. Whatever it was that brought her there, it must have been important to her.
So, after putting on his robes, Aang airbended down the window and trotted in her direction, warmly introducing himself and trying his best to look both welcoming and understanding, but also like a responsible, capable avatar. He even used his fire bending to keep himself warm in the cold night air. The girl seemed to be even more comforted by his attitude, looking up at him with big, somehow familiar eyes.
“My name is Yin,” the girl sputtered, timidly. “And I need you to come see my grandma”.
Aang did not say anything, puzzled. He wondered if this was about some evil spirit possession or merely an elderly woman’s wish to meet the Avatar. Over time he had learnt that his most ferocious fans seemed to be older ladies, and not all encounters with them had been entirely appropriate…
Sensing his reluctance, Yin reinforced her plea: “Please” she said, sounding desperate. “My grandma is not going to be here for long.” The girl grabbed his hand, pleading.
“Okay!” Said Aang, trying to make little Yin feel welcome. He sensed no ill intent from her, and it was the job of an Avatar to help where he was needed - even if it meant midnight talks with grandmas and autographing some tea sets. “Lead the way, Yin!”
She grasped his hand harder, grateful that he asked no more questions. Together, they headed away from the mayor’s house into what Aang could see was the poorest area in the village. The stone houses gave way to wood cabins and the paved streets merged into a beaten trail. Finally, they stopped before a cabin, from which a very alarmed woman came out the second their steps could be heard from afar. She audibly huffed when she could identify Yin and came towards them, looking both worried and furious.
“Yin!” Shushed the woman in disbelief, “What are you doing? It is past midnight! I was worried sick about you!” Just then, she seemed to notice Aang’s presence, and gasped, “Is this…?”
“Hello!” said Aang, trying his best to sound like a responsible adult who could take care of a little girl. “I’m Avatar Aang. Yin has asked me to talk to her grandmother,” he said cautiously, “Is everything alright?”
Surprisingly, the woman paid him no mind and engaged in a stare-down with Yin. Aang watched the silent interaction with a hint of humour - he presumed she was Yin’s mother, as they were very similar. He noticed that there was also something weirdly familiar about the woman, but he could not pinpoint exactly what.
After a while, it seemed that the mother was defeated. Her shoulders slumped, “Oh, Yin, it’s too much for her. Besides, we don’t even know…”
“We know.” Said Yin firmly, grasping Aang’s hand with some newfound determination. “We know, mama. She needs this, the spirits brought him here for her.”
The mother did not object to this. “Very well. I hope you’re right. Let’s get inside, should we?”
Aang wished someone would explain to him what in the spirits was going on. Instead, he was ushered into the cabin. Yin finally let go of his hand and the three of them stood there awkwardly. Aang didn’t know what he was supposed to do now, but he chose to let the women determine the course of the evening. He was suddenly feeling very overwhelmed.
“My name is Diu,” the mother quietly said, as if it was a confession. She did not volunteer any other information, but Aang said nothing. He knew that sometimes the best way to get answers was to give people time to speak – third jing, and all of that.
As if on cue, Diu gave him his instructions.
“Just introduce yourself, say who you are, and where you come from,” she said. “My mother’s name is Kishi, and she is ninety-five years old, we think. She is perfectly sound of mind but sometimes has trouble breathing. If you sense that she is not well, please call me, we’ll be just outside of the room…” She drifted off, seemingly distraught. “Please be kind to her,” she whispered at last.
“Of course. You can trust me,” reassured Aang. At this point, he was utterly confused – why would an elderly woman be distressed while talking to him? It didn’t make sense at all.
He started to have the distinct feeling that all his questions would be answered very soon.
Diu opened a door to a room with a heavy creak. At once, mother and daughter entered, and Aang followed behind as politely as he could. He could see that this was a small, but very organized and clean bedroom. With a flick of his wrist, he lit the candle placed at the side table, engulfing the room in a calming light.
Laying in a bed in the middle of the room, was an elderly woman. She was thin and frail, but her hair was long around her shoulders, styled in a full braid. She had her eyes closed, but she flinched with the noise of three people suddenly entering her space. Kishi was not asleep.
Diu went over to the elder and embraced her, kissing her tenderly in a familiar gesture. Yin did the same just after her mother – both mother and daughter seemed reverent of Kishi, and the elderly lady slowly caressed them back, with her eyes still closed. Aang could sense this family deeply loved each other.
“I’ll leave you two to yourselves, then,” said Diu. “Call me if you need anything at all.”
The matron and Yin left the room, and Aang was left alone with Kishi. The woman did not move or open her eyes, which gave the Avatar time to analyse her further. Her face had deep wrinkles and spots, and her bony hands bore sturdy fingers full of old calluses – this was a woman who had had a very hard life. He grabbed a chair and sat up close to her, trying to sense her spiritually – in her aura, he felt tranquillity, he felt love, he felt something deeply familiar that he could not identify.
He decided to break the silence, “Hello Kishi, I am Avatar Aang.”
Kishi’s eyes opened slowly. Her eyes were big, and full of sorrow. As she faced him, something inside him stirred. She had grey eyes, so very similar to his own.
It could not be, thought Aang, gasping, a forbidden feeling blossoming in his chest. I have searched for so long.
“Hello Aang”, the old woman said with a bittersweet tone. Her elderly hands tentatively searched for him in the penumbra. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, and it seemed as if this was a surreal moment.
They stood in a precious moment like this, taking in each other. Her aura was full of happiness, and his was full of hope. Finally, she said, with a raspy, tired voice, “I have waited for you, young Avatar. I knew the spirits would bring you here”.
Aang could only nod, fighting back the tears. This encounter seemed enormous. Where do I even begin…? He thought.
As if reading his mind, she said resolutely, “Why don’t we start at the beginning? I have never told my story to anyone. But I think it’s time, no?”
Aang still could not speak - it was as if he was caught up in a dream. He could only nod emphatically. As silently as he could manage, he began to listen to her tale.
“I was born four years or five years after the comet. My mother’s name was Kopisha, but I don’t know my father’s name. I never met him, but mother said he had the marks of a master… so they must have found him eventually. All of this, my mother told me when I was old enough to understand…it’s been so long but her voice is so clear to me… she sacrificed everything so that I could live, you see.
“She was from the Eastern Air Temple, but she had been travelling alone when it happened. She said she felt it, the second they arrived. The spirits told her in her dreams. She knew she had to disguise herself, for all over the cities the news came that the fire nation was searching for the air benders. My mother dyed her robes and thanked the spirits she was not a master yet, she could hide, and she could be safe. The spirits did not like this, they told her to go back, to look for other lost sisters. She did not. She hid in the forest and stopped using air bending unless she was alone. She turned her back on her people.
“In the beginning, things didn’t happen so fast as they do now… the ships were slower, and the world travelled at a different speed. Mother stayed in the forests for years, living off fruit and roots, using her air bending to flee whenever someone arrived past. Others were there, too, at the beginning. They arrived in groups and brought news – they told mother that the fire nation had come to the four temples, that the masters there had been slain, and that the Avatar was nowhere to be found… each encounter brought graver news…but you know the nomads do not like to dwell in the hardships of death, they much prefer the joys of living. So, when a group arrived, she sang their songs and ate and danced.
“My mother met my father in one of these groups. They were living in secrecy when the Fire Nation was not settled so deep into the Earth Kingdom and Air Nomads could still step out of the shadows. They fell in love. My father was from the Northern Temple, and he had seen what happened when the Fire Nation arrived. He was one of the men who wanted to fight, who had abandoned their ways… to strike back.
“He had escaped from his temple with other young men, and they were fighting against the fire nation as well as they could. They killed, they destroyed. All this seeking revenge on their fallen brothers. Mother had never hurt a fly, but the desperation and guilt they felt brought them together. They were both stricken with grief and in deep suffering – mother was so lonely; she considered joining my father’s group and fighting back against the Fire Nation. He explained to her the ambushes and the stealth work, and she could not imagine using her bending to do this. She would rather never use it again.
“So, eventually, my father left. He was likely killed, so many like him were killed at the beginning of our fall. He never even knew he had a daughter...”
At this, Kishi stopped, as if her words failed her. Aang was in a state of shock – this story answered so many questions he had, yet it also renewed the profound grief in his heart – thinking about these lost monks and nuns, alone and desperate, misusing the gift of air bending and betraying their ways, was a tragedy on its own.
A few minutes passed before she continued, her voice even more unsteady.
“At some point after my father left, my mother felt me stir inside her. When I was born, my mother named me Etisha. My name means the beginning after the end. Mother said I was her hope for our people…She had me alone, in an abandoned cabin, in the woods near Chameleon Bay.”
Aang could not hold a sob. All this had happened because he had left the temple that night. The guilt he felt for his actions the day he discovered he was the Avatar resurged, and he could barely breathe, “Etisha…I’m so sorry, I should have been there, I am so sorry…”
“Hush, young man…” Etisha held her bony hand to his cheek, capturing his tears. Her grey eyes reminded him of the nuns who had been with him before he came to the Southern Air Temple.
After a couple of minutes, Etisha began again.
“We lived in hiding for years…we were always moving from town to town. I don’t remember having ever seen my mother in Air Nomad’s colours, we were always wearing grey and green. There were so many stories we told, one for each city. She was a widow from Sen Lin, seeking employment, she was the wife of a merchant from Omashu, heading home with her daughter, or maybe a daughter from Ching looking for her father. But the Fire Nation was encroaching on the Earth Kingdom. Air Nomad’s known routes were being monitored, Air Nomad’s culture was taboo…”
Aang listened intently, his heart aching with each word. He could see the pain etched into her frail form, the years of grief and hiding. He wished he could have been there for her, for all the Air Nomads who had been lost or left behind.
“As time went on, we spent more and more time in the forest. I did not know at the time, but a couple of years after the first attack, when the Fire Nation was not yet so hard on the Earth Kingdom, Sozin had determined that all rogue Air Nomads must be brought before him so that Sozin’s justice could be applied before these treacherous people. There was a bounty over the head of any Air Nomad, big enough to attract the eyes of any Earth villager. Any Air Nomad, dead or alive. A single slip could get you killed by your neighbours” Her hand grasped Aang’s, and he felt her heartbeat faster as she remembered the terrors of her youth.
“I was old enough to understand that by then, already nine or ten. As I grew older, my mother grew thinner, and we went deeper and deeper into hiding. Mother could not play the part of an earth kingdom peasant well, you see. She did not know the names of the cities, the titles of the King, or any famous song. Even her way of speaking raised suspicion – her time in the woods had left her paranoid, and she suspected everyone we came across.
“For me, it was different. I was as much of an Earth child as I was her daughter. Everywhere I went, I played with other children and learnt their games and their stories. I could pass as an Earth Kingdom girl because I was being raised as one. She was confused even by their currency. But she still made the effort, day after day, to protect me, and give as much of a childhood as she could. She wanted me to meet people during the day and make friends. She wanted me to be happy.
“At night, when we were alone in our hideouts and she felt safe, mother would tell me our stories. She would use her bending to raise me just above the ground. Songs were whispered to me in the dark, and I don’t remember most of it, I’d often drift asleep. I just remember the melodies… I knew that my mother felt that I was not connecting to the Air Nomads, and I could sense her sadness at my disinterest. But what could I do? We hardly ever met any other, and I could not miss what I did not know. To me, it was just something I needed to do to protect my mother, but with every passing year, it became harder.
“The Fire Nation raids became more and more common. The villagers called us witches and evil spirits, people suspected of her accent and the style of her braids and commented on how light-footed she was. We could not even pretend to be beggars without catching attention. We began to hide even during the day, and food became scarce. Mother stopped speaking at most times, she became frantic and desperate. She could barely take care of me, let alone take care of herself. She told me the spirits spoke to her of death and destruction in our future, she said the spirits had cursed her for abandoning her sisters… I couldn’t understand half of it, but I knew she not well.
“When I was not yet eleven, my mother made the decision I dreaded the most. She decided that I would have a better chance of survival on my own. She told me to choose a new name, to befriend the cooks and the washerwomen and make myself useful, she told me to hide from the men and hide from the fire nation. My mother said that the life she could give me was no life for a little girl, and that I could live in the Earth Kingdom and be happy, but not with her. I begged and cried for her not to go, I wanted to be with her, I didn’t care about anyone else…”
It seemed that her words were becoming too much for her to bear. This was an elderly woman, but in her eyes Aang saw a young girl, begging her mother not to leave.
“She told me she loved me and told me not to forget my true story. And then she ran… it was so quick; I still remember how fast she was when she could be when she used the air... I ran after her, but I couldn’t… I felt like I was chasing the wind. I ran and ran, for hours. I never saw her again.”
Kishi, no, her name is Etisha, had to stop again, this time because of her choked throat. Aang could feel her heart beating wildly and sense the blood pumping weakly in her thin veins. She was not well -we lost so much time, we could have had so much time…I should have been here sooner…
“After she left, I wandered around from village to village until I came to this one. Here, I met a kind woman who worked as a weaver and had only sons, who needed help. She taught me how to use the loom and I worked in exchange for food. She never asked any questions; she was a good woman. The times were already hard then and many young girls fled from difficult situations. Once I became old enough, she pushed me to marry one of her sons, my dear old Yize. Life continued along with the war, but this village was so isolated, that it seemed like news of the Fire Nation’s prowess was coming from another continent.
“I adapted well enough to the married life. Yize was a kind man. We had our family, and everything seemed a little better when the little ones came along. I had six children, and half of them had my mother’s eyes. The world was not so lonely anymore. Often, there was not enough food or not enough money…but we had always managed to get by. I have never told Yize about my story, however…He was a good man, but the truth could hurt our children… It would be best if I bore this secret with myself.
“The children grew up and left, and I grew old. We were eight in this little cabin, soon we were six, then four, and now only three, because my Diu came back to care for me. Stories of the Air Nomads became rarer and rarer, and I felt like my childhood had been a distant dream…
“Sometimes I would hymn our melodies to my little ones… the songs my mother sang to me…I didn’t know the lyrics, but I still know the melodies by heart. In the summer days, I’d go atop the mountains, where there are no trees, and the currents are stronger. When the breeze of the wind would pass through me, I felt like my heart was singing, and it was almost as if I could step into the air and be carried away… I felt the air touching me, and I remembered how it felt when I was a little girl and my mother would throw me up, up, up… I remember the freedom I felt, then.”
Etisha moved her arms slightly, in a slow and deliberate circular motion, and Aang recognized it immediately – it was a bending arm stance, an air-bending one.
“Are you…Can you…?” He dared not finish the sentence - but he sensed that she understood. As if ashamed, she moved her eyes away from him, shaking her head. His heart dropped, of course, she could not…how could she even have learned…
“What happens with a fish who is raised in the desert? I don’t know… It was too dangerous at the time, my mother barely ever…I wouldn’t dare to try. It seemed to me that the air bending had taken my mother away. I felt like it was a curse… but when I felt the air around me…there is no feeling in the world quite like it.”
“I understand”, said Aang, and he truly did. Air bending was different from other bending arts, it required a deep spiritual connection. Without it, he thought that any bending ability would wither and eventually disappear. He could not imagine being raised without his spiritual training; this must feel like crippling a part of his soul.
The weight of her story pressed on his chest, this enormous burden of lives stolen and dreams deferred. She looked at him again, her grey eyes shimmering with unshed tears, and he saw the girl she had once been—terrified, alone, running through a world that did not want her. Ashamed of her past and terrified of her future
"I tried to live a quiet life," Etisha said, her gaze distant. "I married, raised children, and worked the loom for many years. But I never stopped thinking of my mother. I always wondered if she survived, if she found peace. And I wondered about you, Avatar. I wondered if you'd ever return to us, if the Air Nomads would rise again…"
“I am here now,” Aang said fervently, “The Fire Nation has been defeated, me and my friends, we are helping the world get back on track…what happened then will never happen again, I swear it”
“My granddaughter told me this” Etisha smiled slightly, “and I have been waiting. I knew that you would come to me, I knew that the spirits would grant me this final mercy.”
"I was never an Air Nomad," she said, her voice bittersweet. "But you—you are the Air Nomads’ future. I see it in you, Avatar. The hope my mother held onto when she let me go. You are the true beginning, after the end. Thank you"
Aang swallowed hard. His tears blurred his vision as he reached out to grasp her hands again. "You are part of the Air Nomads," he said decisively, his voice trembling. "And you always will be.” He smiled. He had dreamt about this moment from the very first days at the South Pole, about finding one of his own again. He was the one who should be grateful for this precious encounter.
“I should have found you sooner,” Aang whispered “I am sorry for having taken such a long time to find you...”
“No,” she said kindly, her voice gaining unexpected strength. “You came exactly when you were supposed to. I have lived a long life, Avatar. Hard, yes, but I loved and was loved in return. I found my peace long ago.”
It seemed like a momentous moment. A thousand thoughts were going over Aang’s head, but he felt oddly peaceful then. They sat in silence for a moment, the firelight of the candle dancing softly around them. Then, with great effort, Kishi reached into her bedside drawer and pulled out a small, leather pouch.
Her bony fingers carefully opened the cloth lace to reveal a bracelet.
“This was hers,” she said, placing the delicate piece in his hand. “My mother’s. And now, it’s yours.”
“Oh!” Said Aang, wonder blossoming in his heart once more. For it was clearly an Air Nomad bracelet, made of weaved fur and with multiple hollow porcelain beads in the shape of multicoloured lemurs – the piece was old and tattered, but this childish style was so familiar from his childhood that Aang nearly cried again. But soon he recognized again the shapes of the beads and their familiar pattern.
“Is this …?”
“An instrument, yes” completed Etisha. “I remember my mother would play it in the forest and the melody would be so beautiful… please, Avatar Aang, can you play it for me like my mother did?”
In a moment, Aang understood the depth of her request. Only an air bender could play this instrument correctly. The last time Etisha had heard the tune he was about to produce, had been when her own mother was with her.
“It would be my honour,” said Aang. Slowly, he placed his mouth near the bracelet and commanded the air to go through the beads. It had been so long since he had sung one of his people’s lullabies himself, but his heart still knew the right tunes.
As the music filled the air, Etisha and Aang were transported to different worlds.
She, to a forest with dim campfires; to roots collected and prepared with care; of a young woman and her only child, whispering secrets in quiet cabins, braiding each other’s hair; to hard days and harder nights; to a farewell that should never have happened, and the emptiness she had been left with; to humming this very tune to her children and looking at their grey and green eyes with a heart full of love.
He, to a room full of small boys, sleeping in tight embraces amidst warm blankets and bison fur; to gentle nuns who taught them, disciplined them, and loved them all; to kind monks, strong and protective and always so patient; to fruit tarts and giggling lemurs; to Gyatso, and so many others.
Both worlds, so full of love.
The melody seemed to go on forever, but at last it ended. Aang could sense an indecipherable connection between his and Etisha’s souls. They were both relics from another time, finally finding each other against all odds.
“Thank you,” said Etisha. “My mother…she would have loved that. She would have loved if I could be…”, she choked. “If I had managed to even try…”
“She is so proud of you for surviving”, interrupted Aang. “I am so proud of you. Thank you so much for sharing your story with me.”
Etisha’s gaze softened, her body relaxing as if she had finally let go of a burden she’d carried for decades. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For finding me. For listening.”
“It was my honour,” said Aang, and he meant it.
Her breath slowed, her chest rising and falling in a gentle rhythm. She had fallen asleep, telling this story had taken a toll on her body. Aang decided to stay by her bed through the night, it seemed impossible to leave her. Her daughter and granddaughter came and went, bringing fruit and tea to Aang, and offering him a bed to sleep in, but he did not want to leave Etisha’s side. Among whispers, he recalled Etisha’s tale to her descendants, and the night was spent among whispers and tears.
When the sun had just made its way out of the horizon, a gentle breeze came into the room. The air was comforting, lulling, almost as if it carried its own secret melody.
It was then that Aang realized that Etisha’s breathing had stilled, and her spirit had passed peacefully into the next world.
Strangely, he didn’t feel grief at her passing. She was tired, and he knew she had been waiting for him.
He stayed a little longer, murmuring prayers for her journey. When he finally emerged from the room, the grieved, but peaceful, expression etched on Diu and Yin’s faces mirrored his own. They understood what had passed. But there was also a strange comfort—a sense that Etisha’s story, and her spirit, had finally come full circle.
“Did you know?” asked Aang, looking at their grey eyes. It seemed obvious why he felt they were so familiar; they looked exactly like Etisha’s. They looked like him. These are my people too, he thought.
“We always knew there was something strange about grandma,” said Yin decisively. “She has always been… odd. She had quite a different way of walking, she never spoke about her past, she knew some recipes no one else knew, and singed tunes no one else heard of. She almost never ate meat!”
“But she never told us anything concrete”, completed Diu. “Over time, we put things together, you see…it seemed quite obvious when you thought about it. When we told her the Avatar had returned, that he was an airbender, then we knew for sure. She became agitated, there was a new energy in her. She wanted to know all about you. We tried sending letters to Ba Sing Se, after the announcement that the war had ended, but we never got any response…”
The rest of the morning was filled with revelations and preparations for Etisha’s passing. In seemingly less than an hour, more than a dozen people had materialized in the cottage – half of them with pale grey eyes. Among Etisha’s family, Aang felt a familiarity that he had not felt in years. He received embraces, he cried with them. They all seemed to welcome as if he was one of their own. He supposed he was, in a way. The warmth filled his chest and made him smile, in spite of all.
He stayed a couple of additional days for the funeral, a traditional Earth Kingdom affair. It seemed only right that Etisha would lay next to her husband, and where the rest of her family would one day be. Afterwards, he promised to keep in touch with all the family – especially little Ying. She made him vouch to be back at least once a year, and he extended the invitation for her to go to his house at Chameleon Bay. Who knows, maybe one day she would want to honour her grandmother’s ancestry and learn more about the traditions of the Air Nomads – they could even form a little community of like-minded people...
The next day, as he prepared to leave the village, Aang looked up to the sky. The wind seemed to carry a familiar melody, soft and wistful, like a whisper from the past. He felt himself smiling through the pang of sadness. How many more families like Etisha’s existed? How many more he could find?
It seemed like an additional chore was added to the scope of his Avatar duties. He would keep an eye out for these echoes of the past. This perspective, strangely, didn’t scare him. He felt as if these people were his own, like he was unfolding a secret, ancient connection that spread thin through the entire world. Almost as if these people were calling to him. He would find with them; he was sure of it. One day, his culture would be revived, in a new way. The weight of the bracelet, resting safely against his pocket, seemed to make sure of this.
Then, with Appa’s roar echoing across the mountains, he flew off to continue his work, carrying Etisha’s legacy—and of the Air Nomads’—with him.