The Fire Nation Prince

Chapter 60: Sowing Seeds

Zuko let the silence hang for a few moments longer, then slowly leaned back and offered a mild smile, the sharpness in his eyes dimming just a little.

“I hope I haven’t offended with all my questions,” he said with a small bow of the head. “I fear my… enthusiasm for Avatar lore sometimes makes me press too deeply. A habit from my travels, I suppose.”

Renji shook his head. “You honor the role by studying it, Your Highness. Curiosity is no sin when it leads to understanding.”

Meitou raised his cup. “The court may be filled with princes… but few show such diligence. It is rare. And it is welcome.”

Zuko smiled at that, leaning forward with a touch of boyish charm.

“Well, imagine this,” he said lightly. “If I’m this curious as a prince… just imagine what I’d be like as Fire Lord.”

The sages chuckled.

“Ah,” Duan said with an indulgent smirk. “Then the Fire Sages would need to expand our libraries.”

“We’d be flooded with scrolls,” Meitou added, laughing.

“And no shortage of ceremonial debates,” Renji grinned.

Even Yoroku allowed a faint smile. “It would be a return to something sacred, I think. A leader who understands fire and spirit.”

Zuko let their words wash over him like warm water. He bowed his head in humble thanks.

‘Good,’ he thought. ‘Let them start picturing it. Let them imagine the crown on my head—and not Ozai’s.’

He gestured toward the servants to refresh the wine, then leaned forward slightly, voice casual again.

“There’s one more Avatar I’ve come across in my readings. An unusual one.”

The sages quieted again, intrigued.

Zuko tilted his head slightly.

“Avatar Turo.”

The warmth drained from the table like a candle snuffed.

Duan’s fingers froze around his cup. Meitou shifted uncomfortably. Renji avoided Zuko’s eyes entirely.

Only Yoroku spoke, and even he did so with caution.

“That… is a name not often discussed.”

Zuko arched a brow. “Why?”

“Turo’s reign was complicated,” Yoroku said carefully. “He was both Fire Lord and Avatar. A rare case where the cycle aligned with royalty.”

“He ruled during unstable times,” Meitou added. “Internal strife. Civil uprisings. He made… controversial decisions.”

“And those decisions?” Zuko pressed gently.

“Some believe he corrupted the Avatar Cycle,” Renji said. “He prioritized bloodline purity. Practiced isolation. There are… rumors. Taboos.”

Zuko nodded slowly, pretending to chew the information for the first time.

“Interesting,” he said. “I’d love to hear more about those decisions. Especially given that some of his policies seemed to strengthen the Fire Nation for generations afterward.”

The sages looked at each other.

Yoroku steepled his fingers.

“Turo’s legacy is debated even among us,” he said. “Many of his scrolls were lost. Or burned.”

“Convenient,” Zuko said quietly.

“Perhaps intentional,” Duan added grimly.

Zuko sipped his tea again and offered them a thoughtful smile.

“Well, perhaps together,” he said, “we can recover what was lost. Not for judgment. But for knowledge.”

The sages nodded in agreement, though a heaviness now hung in the air.

Zuko leaned back, content.

He had learned what he needed.

They would follow him.

Maybe not yet. But the seeds were planted.

“Tomorrow,” he said, “we’ll begin the rites.”

The sages bowed deeply.

“Of course, Prince Zuko.”

The fire had dimmed to a soft orange in the hanging lanterns. The scent of roasted lotus root and plum wine lingered faintly in the air as the banquet plates were cleared by silent-footed servants. The sages, content and slightly flushed, had lingered longer than expected, enthralled by their host’s knowledge.

Zuko leaned against one of the carved stone pillars at the edge of the colonnade, arms folded as his eyes traced the arc of the sun disappearing behind the tiled rooftops.

“There’s one more question I’ve often pondered,” he said, his tone light but laced with meaning. “Perhaps you’ve debated it yourselves.”

The sages turned toward him, curious.

Zuko’s eyes flicked to Yoroku.

“What is your understanding,” he asked, “of the Avatar’s origin?”

That silenced them.

For a moment.

Then, Meitou spoke first. “There are many theories,” he said cautiously. “Some believe the Avatar was chosen by the spirits to balance human nature. Others claim it is a reflection of the four nations, divided in body, united in soul.”

Renji added, “The oldest scrolls at Crescent Island speak of a volcano spirit that merged with the breath of the world to create the Avatar.”

“A myth,” Duan snorted. “The Avatar is a spiritual conduit, not a god-child.”

Yoroku, however, raised a hand to quiet the bickering.

“Truth and myth blur in stories this old,” he said, eyes thoughtful. “The origin has been lost in time. Even the Fire Sages debate it.”

Zuko nodded slowly, as if pleased.

“Well,” he said, stepping forward, “I once encountered a man during my early search for the Avatar. A guru living in the ruins of an old Air Temple. Not a bender. Just a recluse with too many scrolls and too much tea.”

The sages chuckled politely.

“He told me,” Zuko continued, “of stories passed down by the Air Nomads, scrolls about the first Avatar. According to him, the Avatar was once a man like any other. Lived in an age when spirits and humans shared the earth.”

He began pacing slowly, weaving the story with practiced ease.

“He was a thief. A poor one, stealing food from a powerful noble clan. Eventually caught and exiled, cast into the wilds beyond civilization.”

The sages listened with growing interest.

“There, lost in the spirit wilds, the man was supposed to die. But he didn’t. The spirits came to him. Some say they were curious. Others say they pitied him.”

“And they taught him?” Yoroku asked, leaning forward slightly.

Zuko nodded.

“One by one, they showed him the paths of the elements. Fire. Water. Earth. Air. He learned—not just how to bend them, but how to connect with them. How to balance them.”

Meitou looked skeptical. “And this knowledge was enough to make him… what? The bridge?”

“More than that,” Zuko said, his voice low and even. “He became the first to unify them. Not by birthright. But by will.”

Renji frowned. “That would suggest the Avatar wasn’t chosen at all. That he made himself.”

Zuko gave him a sidelong glance. “That’s one interpretation.”

The sages fell quiet, considering that.

Zuko didn’t tell them the rest.

He didn’t tell them the man’s name was Wan. Or that he bonded with a spirit named Raava. Or that he faced a dark counterpart called Vaatu and sealed him away during Harmonic Convergence. He didn’t tell them about the celestial event, the fusion of spirit and human, or the moment that changed the world 10,000 years ago.

Those were truths too sharp to be handed freely.

If the sages learned of Raava now, or what it truly meant to sever the Avatar Spirit… someone might stumble onto the real method.

And that cannot happen. Not yet.

So he said none of it.

In his mind he used to wonder about it too. Ever since he saw the first Avatar in Korra he wondered who could be the second.

Given the cycle it would obviously be an airbender. Given the state of the world back then. Basically he would have to figure out everything from scratch because Wan himself would be clueless as well. It was an intriguing thought of how the Second Avatar might have done things but he put it out of his mind.

Instead, he let the mystery linger, and turned back to face them fully.

“Stories like that…” he said, “they remind me how little we know. And how dangerous knowledge can become if misused.”

Duan grunted. “Then perhaps it is best that some truths remain forgotten.”

Zuko smiled faintly.

“Perhaps.”

But in his mind, he was already preparing the lie he would give them tomorrow.

[A/N: Can’t wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on .com/saiyanprincenovels.]