Operation Avatar

It was two days before Azora was able to act upon her suspicions, which was probably for the better; it gave her time to prefect her plan.

She had to wait until the rookie, Soza was his name, was her guard for the night shift. Night guard duties lasted for eight hours. Azora quickly learned that Soza lacked the patience for an entire eight-hour shift, and he frequently fell asleep a few hours into his duty. It was the only time in which Azora had any privacy.

Soza took his position at the front of the gate without acknowledging Azora. None of the guards acknowledged her; no one spoke to her. She was beginning to forget the sound of her own voice, but that was a separate problem. Patiently, she waited for Soza to fall asleep.

Within two hours a slow, steady snoring suggested he had fallen asleep. Earlier than normal, Azora commented, but she didn’t mind. It gave her more time.

She waited an additional quarter of an hour to ensure he was deeply asleep before going into action. Her hands were still bound by shackles and her feet still chained to the bench. However, the bench was free to move. Azora discovered this one day while doing her daily sit-ups; her knee knocked painfully on the underside of the bench and lifted it an inch or so into the air. She was thankful for this fact, because her plan would be impossible if she could not move the bench.

The next half hour was spent moving the bench to the middle of the room. It was back-breaking work, and Azora – who had grown out of shape due to her captivity – tired quickly. She had to move it inch by inch. There was too much risk in dragging the bench and waking Soza up. Azora had to resort to lifting one side of the bench, pulling it forward, setting it down, and repeating the same actions on the other side of the bench. But, after what felt like the most intense workout of her life, Azora made it to the center of the room, directly under the dangling lantern.

Azora climbed onto the bench and pulled a large scrap of cloth from her pocket. Over the past few days she had worked at the seams in her pants, slowly and meticulously tearing the hems off. Her pants now ended just above her knees – a fact she feared her guards would notice but they appeared completely oblivious – but she had multiple fistfuls of fuel at her disposal.

The lantern was fueled by oil, and there was a long wick which held the flame in place. There were two latches to the lantern, one in the side where oil can be poured in and one on top where the wick can be lit. Azora carefully opened the latch on top. The flame seemed to swell as air was introduced to it. Azora unfurled the fabric and dipped a corner into the fire.

The fabric was resilient at first, but eventually caught flame. When it did, Azora quickly pulled the fabric back. Panic coursed through her mind. What should she do now? The fire grew on the piece of fabric, quickly eating its way towards her hand. She was aware of the acrid smell of burning dirt and grime, but she had no idea what to do.

For a moment she stared intently at the flame. Time seemed to stand still as she watched the flame dance right and then left, grow taller and then shrink. She felt a strange connection with the fire and began to predict the direction in which it will move. The longer she did this the more accurate her predictions became until she was right one hundred percent of the time, but then a realization hit her. She wasn’t making predictions, she was controlling the fire.

With a shocked gasp Azora lost her concentration and the fire took on a nature of its own. Flames licked at her fingers and she quickly dropped the fabric on the ground. She stomped the flames out with her bare, calloused feet. The chains clanked noisily, but by some miracle Soza remained sleeping.

Once the fire was out Azora sat down on the bench, breathing in short, panicked gasps. Her hands were shaking with a mixture of adrenaline and fear. She had never experienced such a thrill before. To have the ability to control fire, one of the most destructive elements, was something she never imagined possible. She remembered the flames that had engulfed her village. If only I knew of this power back then. So many lives could have been spared.

Against her will, the image of Shen falling back from the force of the fire bombs filled her mind. Icy claws seemed to drag her heart away, leaving a deep aching that forced her to clasp her arms around frame, as if trying to keep her body intact.

The desire to cry out in pain and sorrow was great, but she bit down on her lip until she tasted blood. Someday she would mourn for Shen, but now was not the time. Right now she had an important mission to accomplish: she had to learn how to bend fire.