Not many things existed that were more beautiful than the Frozen City.
The towering Great Wall of Ice encircled the metropolis, shimmering under the morning sun like a translucent fortress forged by spirits themselves.
Beyond the Wall were crystal buildings; towers and domes differing in shapes and sizes, but all glistening with refracted light.
Believed to be the peak of civilization, the Frozen City was the pride of the Northern Water Kingdom, and the envy of every soul that lived beyond its boundaries.
They said Avatar Aang had changed the world. That when he brought unison to the Four Nations, he did not erase their differences— he let them bloom.
Earth, Fire, Water, Air— each had grown in its own way, advancing in science and spirit, but tied together in peace.
Trade flowed like rivers between the lands. Cities became hybrids of bending traditions and modern design. The Water Tribe, in its serenity and strength, built upward— into towers of still water and frozen air.
Towers that held the nobles, generals, spiritual leaders, and elite warriors of the Water Kingdom.
For many others, they were not as fortunate to live within those blessed walls.
Others such as Renji of the Northern Water kingdom, and his sister, Nala.
Far beyond the gates of ice and light, tucked against the cliffs of the Frostback Mountains, the two siblings sat quietly, their breath fogging the air.
"Do you think we'll ever go in there?" Nala asked softly.
She was small— no more than ten —wrapped in a thick blue parka lined with snow-fur. Her dark skin glowed warm against the cold, and her thick hair was braided neatly beneath her hood, the beads clicking gently in the breeze.
She had brilliant ocean blue eyes, filled with hope, looking at the city like it was a piece of the moon itself.
Renji, sitting beside her, didn't answer right away.
One of his legs was bent, while the other dangled off the edge of the rock they'd claimed as their morning perch.
Taller by far, slim but wiry with hidden strength, Renji's long black hair was tied in a loose ponytail, though wind and sleep had scattered it wildly. Two strands always escaped— framing his face like charcoal strokes on canvas.
Unlike his sister, his skin was pale, kissed more by fire than by water, and his eyes were as golden as a treasure chest; another feature that differentiated him from everyone else.
After escaping his thoughts, Renji finally replied, "I believe so."
"You really do?"
"Yes." He turned toward her, half-smiling. "Just keep training and meditating. Soon your water bending will get really good. You'll be scouted by the Marine Academy. And when that happens, you know what it means."
Nala grinned, "A home in the city. For all of us."
Renji nodded.
For the poor of the outskirts, the Marines were salvation. Get in, serve well, and your family earned entry to the Frozen City— warm beds, running water, meals that weren't ice-seared fish or frozen roots.
It was the dream, for everyone who lived in the shanties and ice huts scattered below.
Nala looked up at him, face falling slightly.
"What about you? Aren't you coming with us into the city?"
Renji didn't look at her. His eyes stayed locked on the crystalline towers in the distance. A shadow crossed his face, dimming the fire in his gaze.
"Don't worry about me," he said softly. "Doesn't matter if I'm out here or in there. I'll always be with you."
Nala leaned against his shoulder. He let out a slow breath, half a sigh, half a wish. He didn't say what he was thinking, or what he knew for certain.
They would never allow him inside.
Renji looked down.
The snow-packed valley below was peppered with makeshift homes— ice shanties, igloos sagging under their own weight, huts patched with canvas and whale-hide. Smoke rose from scattered chimneys, and in the center of their little world, he saw her.
Mura.
His mother.
She stood outside their hut, smiling warmly at him from the distance.
Mura was a gifted healer, and if that didn't make her special enough, she was also a once-in-a-lifetime beauty.
She had dark auburn hair, and her skin glowed with a deep golden brown. The kind of beauty she possessed was one that refused to fade with time.
Even though her face had been weathered gently by years and hardship, still held the serenity of a queen and the tenderness of a mother.
Her smile lingered on for a while before she turned around and stepped back into the warmth of their home.
Renji tapped his sister's shoulder. "Come on. Time for breakfast."
They began their descent, tracing the mountain's familiar creases.
Renji led the way, feet finding old stone paths hidden beneath layers of snow. They ducked under frost-bitten branches, stepped over patches of slick ice, and followed a winding trail down toward the village.
Then, at the cliff's edge, where the ground fell sharply into a smooth slope, Renji stopped. He turned to Nala with a smirk.
"You ready?"
She nodded eagerly, clinging to him like she always did.
He lifted her easily, cradling her in one arm. His other fist glowed, heat whispering against the wind. Then he leapt, air rushing past them, snow screaming up toward their boots.
Just before they struck the earth, Renji shot out fire from his fist.
This helped them land smoothly, although the snow beneath their feet had turned to slush and blackened ice.
"Still cool," Nala whispered when Renji let go of her.
But the others who had watched were simply irritated by the display.
As Renji and Nala walked, the youths leaning against hut walls or loitered near barrel-fires, hardened their gaze at him.
"There he goes," one muttered.
"Fire freak."
"Snow-burner."
"Should've drowned him when he was a baby."
Renji didn't flinch. He was used to all of this now, and he didn't want to get in a confrontation with Nala by his side.
They reached the hut.
Renji pulled the makeshift curtain and allowed Nala to enter first before he followed.
Inside, warmth and tension waited.
Mura smiled at them and waved them to the mat. Sitting across from her, as silent and unmoved as always, was her husband, Atukka.
He was a wide, bearded man— much older than Mura, built like a glacier with arms like tree trunks. His eyes were dull blue, and colder than any wind outside. When Renji greeted him, the man gave only a silent nod.
Renji didn't expect more.
He sat down, grateful for the stew Mura had made— seal meat, smoked and simmered with herbs.
Nala quickly began to eat, making loud slurps as she gulped down the soup. The warmth filled the room, but it couldn't thaw the air between Renji and the man at the table.
"You two were up on the cliffs again," Atukka said suddenly.
"We weren't gone long," Renji answered.
"It's dangerous. One slip and—"
"I've climbed that mountain every morning for five years," Renji replied, jaw tight. "I've never slipped once."
Mura tried to cut in. "Let's eat first, Ren—"
Atukka's brows lowered. "But you take my daughter with you now. And you use fire near her. You want to corrupt my daughter?"
"She's my sister too."
"Half-sister," Atukka snapped.
Renji grunted. "It's not my fault that your own daughter doesn't like spending time with you."
Mura stepped in, pleading. "Stop it, Renji! Please, both of you—"
Renji grimaced. "Why do you always do that?"
Mura looked at him, confused. "Do what?"
"Take his side? Why do you always take his side?"
"I'm not—"
"You are. You always do!" Renji snapped, breaking loose. "It's like you're scared to speak up against him because you'll lose him or something. What about me? Why does it feel like you're constantly pleasing him at my expense?!"
"Renji—"
"If raising me in the Water Kingdom is so difficult, you should've just left me with my real father in the Fire Nation! Maybe then I wouldn't be such a burden to you and your perfect marriage!"
He stormed out, the curtain whipping open with a gust of snow.
Mura jumped after him, running barefoot into the cold.
"Renji! Renji, wait!"
But he was already gone. He ran into the mountains, leaped and vanished into their white trails, flame flickering faintly as it faded into the trees.
Mura stood there, feeling guilty because she knew there was plenty of truth to Renji's words. Then, her senses picked up on something, and she lifted her gaze to see black circles falling from the sky.
Ash.
She turned to the river and her eyes widened.
There was a massive steamship quickly approaching, cobbled from metal scraps, engines screaming with unnatural heat.
Mura's blood ran cold.
"Pirates," she whispered.
"Pirates!" someone screamed.
And the alarm bells began to ring.