Beyond the mirror

Day one

The ship docked in Nami Island's tiny port just as the sun was beginning to graze the treeline of its famously dense forest.

"Welcome Fire Lord Ozai, Prince Zuko, Princess Azula," Master Tou said, bowing deeply.

"Master Tou. Thank you for your most generous gesture, in inviting my children to train with you."

"The honour is mine, my Lord." He gestured to the temple complex at the head of the beach. "Shall we begin, children? I would like to see you both run through the eighteen basic forms, before we do anything."

Zuko clenched his fists. Form eighteen had been the source of his troubles last week. No matter how many times he tried, he couldn't nail the final steps, which called for a flawless exchange of energy from the fall of the foot to the heel, a backstep to anchor the form, and, while the energy was retained in the heel, a dramatic back arch was formed that seamlessly directed the energy up to the fists. In theory, should an opponent force the firebender to make a backstep, the form was supposed to generate a dramatic counter fire.

"It's taking their offence and turning it back on them twofold," his master had said. "You make the retreat only to come back twice as hard. Count it, Zuko, if you're struggling with the transition. One, ball, two, heel, three, backstep, four, arch, five, fire plume!"

The party made their way to the temple training complex. Large murals of the symbolic third-eye of the psychic fire benders decorated the walls. Zuko recognised the motif from his reading. Up close, the giant eye pictures added to his sense of claustrophobia. To his horror, rather than heading straight to converse with the Island Fire Sages, it seemed that Ozai would be staying to watch the demonstration too.

Azula began first, running through the forms one after the other with effortless precision. She was like a machine - every gesture perfectly calibrated, no inefficiencies of movement, no hesitation. Even a few months ago, Azula's fire had been a mix of blue and red. As she'd begun to hit puberty though, her fire had turned hotter and hotter. Today, every flame was a glacial blue.

When she finished, the room erupted into applause. Not the kind applause a room full of older men might give a pretty young girl who'd just finished a dance. This was the appreciation of a group of connoisseurs recognising a perfectly cut diamond.

Azula took it all with the smallests of nods. She knew it was no less than she was due. Smirking, she turned to Zuko.

"You next, Zuzu! Make us proud."

To those assembled, it might have sounded like a little sister sweetly encouraging her older brother. Zuko tasted the jibe for what it was.

Inhaling deeply, Zuko began. His execution was clumsy from the outset. He hated performing. Channeling the fire felt like digging for clay when a crowd was watching him. He strained to move the energy through muscles that spasmed in anxiety.

Form eleven, which required total relaxation of the upper back, resulted in sputters and sparks, as the energy stalled around the knot between his shoulders. It meant he didn't have enough fire to transition seamlessly into form twelve, so he had to pause awkwardly and clap his hands together to draw out the required flame, like a little kid. He caught a pair of Fire Sages exchanging a knowing glance. It riled him in his gut. Forms thirteen to seventeen zipped by easily enough after that, powered by belly-deep anger. He was merely containing the fire for those steps, there was no worry of the spark being extinguished.

He took a moment to breathe into the transition for step eighteen, letting the energy flow down to his heel and into his toes. He pointed his right foot like a dancer, moving into the correct stance.