Around the fire, it starts innocently enough. Momo hops down from Appa and scampers toward our dinner scraps. At the same time, Cat slinks out from somewhere by Teorin’s log, tail flicking, eyes locked on the same bowl.

  I sit up immediately, grinning. “Ladies, gentlemen, benders of all ages, welcome to tonight’s main event: Cat versus Momo! The lemur with the aerial advantage versus the mysterious furball from another dimension!”

  Momo chitters furiously, wings spread. Cat blinks once, unimpressed, and starts eating.

  “Ohhh,” I gasp, hand to my chest. “An early power play from Cat. Complete indifference. Bold strategy.”

  Momo screeches, swoops low, and tries to snatch the food right out of Cat’s mouth. Cat smacks him midair with one paw. Not even claws, just a bored bap.

  “OOOOH! Direct hit!” I leap onto a log like an announcer. “Momo staggers! He reels! He’s… oh, nope, he’s just sulking in a tree now.”

  Sure enough, Momo scuttles to the nearest branch, glaring down with wounded dignity. Cat sits, curls his tail neatly around his paws, and purrs like he’s already forgotten the entire incident.

  Toph is cackling. “Your cat’s got better form than Sokka.”

  “HEY!” Sokka protests, pointing his spoon.

  Katara pinches the bridge of her nose. “You’re encouraging this.”

  “I’m documenting history,” I correct her. “Future generations will need to know of the epic feud between lemur and cat.”

  Teorin just sighs, but there’s the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth as he goes back to fiddling with his device. After a few more minutes, he lets out a long breath. “If I can’t recalibrate the core, I can at least cool the stabilizer housing with water from the river.”

  I trail after him as he heads down the trail, kicking pebbles into the trees. Moonlight glitters across the water of the river, silver ripples spilling into the shallows. Teorin kneels by the bank, lowering the device into the current.

  That’s when the air shifts.

  A shadow drops from the treeline, swords flashing. Teorin barely looks up before the first strike sends the core clattering into the dirt. He tries to pulse, pressure rippling outward, but the attacker is already inside his guard.

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  Steel cracks against his temple. Teorin drops hard.

  “Teo!” I start forward, then stop. Because there is a sword leveled at my chest.

  I lock eyes not with a person, but with a blue mask. What in the cascades? I curse.

  And for once, I don’t crack a joke. I move. My hand catches his next strike and twists. Muscle memory takes over, fast and flawless. His blade hits the dirt, mine now.

  The masked man stumbles, eyes widening at how quickly I’ve mirrored his own stance back at him. “What—”

  I press forward, the stolen sword raised. For a moment, I have him. His sword clatters to the ground. I raise mine. “Who are—“

  Then fire explodes across the riverbank.

  His hand ignites, a blaze roaring toward my face. I barely dodge, heat searing down my arm. Pain bursts through the burn, but it doesn’t stop there. It drags other pain with it. Sharp, jagged memories that bleed through until I can’t tell which wound is real. I take a deep breath and shove it all down.

  Firebender. The people our new friends were afraid of.

  I skid back, grip tightening on the single blade I’ve managed to keep. My heart slams, adrenaline buzzing sharp in my chest.

  “Okay,” I mutter under my breath, eyes locked on him. “New plan. Don’t die.”

  By the time I look up, his blade is back in his hand. The firelight flickers across his mask as he presses forward, blade and flame moving in perfect sync. I parry once, twice, steel ringing in the night air. His movements are sharp, trained, predictable enough that I can mirror him—until the fire bends where steel never could.

  I duck, roll, lash out with a strike that should disarm him again. He twists, flame trailing his blade in a hot arc that forces me back. My arm screams where the heat licks too close. I adjust, feint left, bring the stolen sword up from below. For a heartbeat, he’s open, and then fire floods the gap, a burning wall that shoves me away.

  The heat sears into my forearm as I block too slow. The pain is blinding, sharp enough to steal my breath. I grit my teeth, forcing myself to move, but my grip falters. The sword slips from my hand and clatters into the dirt.

  His second blade is already at my throat. I freeze, chest heaving. The burned skin throbs, raw and angry.

  His golden eyes narrow behind the mask. “You fight like you don’t belong here.”

  “Good observation,” I rasp, sweat beading down my temple. “Top marks.”

  He doesn’t even twitch at the joke. His blade presses closer, a silent promise.

  And just like that, the fight is over. My arm throbs where the fire caught me, but when he stoops and slings Teorin over his shoulder, my whole body locks up.

  No.

  “Put him down,” I rasp.

  He doesn’t answer, just turns, blades glinting as he starts toward the trees.

  I stagger after him, half-running, half-falling. The ground tilts under me but I don’t care. “I said—”

  He wheels on me, flame exploding from his palm. I throw myself into it, teeth gritted against the burn. My hand brushes his blade, trying to rip it free, but he twists with brutal precision. The hilt cracks against the side of my head.

  White sparks burst across my vision. My knees buckle. Through the ringing in my ears I hear him mutter, low and furious, “Stay down.”

  The last thing I see before the dark swallows me is Teorin’s limp form disappearing into the trees.