The Second Avatar

The morning after Yogan's devastating outburst was eerily quiet. The warm glow of dawn seeped through the cracks in his window, painting the room with soft hues of gold and pink. Yogan stirred in his bed, his limbs heavy and aching as though he had been through one of his grueling training sessions with Renji. His body felt like it was weighed down by stones, his muscles protesting even the slightest movement. He groaned softly, the events of the previous night a blur in his mind.

As he lay in bed, staring up at the wooden beams of the ceiling, Yogan's mind swam through fragmented memories. He remembered challenging Renji—his brother, the golden child, the perfect one. He remembered the rage bubbling up inside him, the overwhelming desire to prove himself, to show everyone that he wasn't just some reckless troublemaker living in his brother's shadow. But after that… nothing. His memories faded into a dark void, a blank space where there should have been clarity. All he could recall was the feeling of power surging through him, raw and uncontrollable.

"What happened?" he muttered to himself. "Why can't I remember?"

The frustration gnawed at him. Yogan hated not being in control, and now he felt lost, confused, like a piece of himself had been stolen away. He clenched his fists, trying to summon the energy to get up. He was fed up with the uncertainty, the gaps in his mind. If no one was going to tell him what happened, then maybe he could find solace at the village tavern. A drink would help ease his troubled thoughts, at least for a little while.

Slowly, Yogan swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His feet touched the cool stone floor, and he winced as pain shot through his body. Every step felt like a monumental effort as he struggled to stand. His muscles burned, and his head swam with dizziness, but he forced himself forward. He needed to move, to get out of the suffocating silence of the room.

As he reached the door, his hand trembling as he gripped the handle, Yogan paused for a moment. The quiet halls of the temple stretched before him, the air still and heavy. There was no one around, no bustling novices or chatter from the other rooms. For a brief moment, Yogan was relieved. He didn't want to deal with their judgmental stares or whispers today. Not after whatever had happened the night before.

But his luck ran out as soon as he turned the corner toward the exit. Kaiya, along with a few other novices, were walking down the hallway. Yogan's stomach dropped, expecting the usual glares or maybe some snide comments, but what he saw surprised him. Kaiya and the others weren't looking at him with disdain or annoyance. Instead, their eyes were filled with something that resembled concern.

Kaiya, her arms crossed but her posture more relaxed than usual, stepped forward. "Yogan, are you… sure you should be walking around?" she asked, her voice unusually soft, a note of genuine worry in it.

Yogan blinked at her, stunned by the tone of her voice. Was this some kind of trick? He narrowed his eyes, immediately suspicious. "What's it to you?" he replied, his voice dripping with his usual sarcasm. "I'm fine."

Kaiya exchanged glances with the novices behind her, but none of them said anything. "I'm just saying… you don't look so good. Maybe you should rest."

Yogan scoffed, dismissing her concern as another ploy to make him feel weak. "I don't need your pity," he muttered, pushing past them, though his legs barely carried him.

As he stumbled down the hall, he ran straight into Monk Nara, who was carrying a silver tray. On it sat a steaming kettle, two small ceramic cups, and a plate of fresh bread rolls. The fragrant smell of herbs and tea leaves filled the air as she turned to him with a calm smile.

"I was just on my way to your room," she said, her voice as soothing as ever.

Yogan glanced at the tray, feeling a twinge of irritation. "I'm heading to the village," he replied, his tone sharp. "Need something stronger than tea."

Nara raised an eyebrow but didn't lose her composure. "Sake isn't going to help you right now, Yogan," she said gently. "Tea will do you more good."

Yogan sighed, glancing at the steaming kettle. "I doubt it."

"Come," Nara insisted. "Let's go back to your room. We can talk."

There was something in her eyes—something firm yet understanding—that made Yogan give in. Reluctantly, he turned and began the slow walk back to his room, Nara following closely behind. His mind was racing, not just with frustration but with confusion. Why had Kaiya looked at him like that? What had happened last night? The emptiness in his memory gnawed at him.

Once they were back in his room, Yogan sat on the edge of his bed, his body still aching. Nara moved gracefully, pouring the tea with practiced ease, the aroma filling the small space between them. She handed him a cup, and he stared into the amber liquid, his reflection wavering in the surface.

As they sipped the tea, Nara broke the silence. "Tell me, Yogan, what do you remember about last night?"

Yogan hesitated, his brow furrowing in concentration. "I… I challenged Renji to a fight. I wanted to prove I was stronger than him. But after that… nothing. It's all a blur. What happened?"

Nara's face softened, but there was a gravity to her words. "Your bending went out of control, Yogan. It was as if you were possessed."

Yogan's heart skipped a beat, his grip tightening on the cup. "Possessed?" he echoed, disbelief flooding his voice.

"There's a rumor," Nara continued, "that a spirit took control of your body, using your anger and hatred for your brother as an opportunity to lash out."

Yogan sat in stunned silence, his mind reeling. A spirit? He had always heard stories about the spirit world, about the danger of spirits interfering with the living, but he had never imagined it could happen to him. His tea grew cold in his hands as he tried to process the enormity of what Nara was saying.

Before he could respond, there was a knock on the door. It opened slowly, and Renji stepped in, followed by their parents. They all looked slightly worried, their eyes filled with concern as they gazed at Yogan.

Renji was the first to speak. "You feeling okay, Yogan?"

Yogan nodded slowly, though he still felt disoriented. His mother stepped forward, her voice soft. "We were so worried when we heard what happened," she said, her eyes filled with maternal concern.

Yogan looked between them, feeling a strange mix of emotions. There was a part of him that wanted to lash out, to tell them all to leave him alone, but another part of him—an unfamiliar part—was tired. Exhausted, even. He didn't have the energy to fight.

"What did I do?" Yogan finally asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Renji sighed, sitting down beside him. "You nearly destroyed the temple, Yogan. Your bending… it was like nothing I've ever seen."

Yogan's father, normally a stoic figure, nodded in agreement. "It was powerful. But dangerous."

Yogan looked down at his hands, the weight of their words sinking in. He had always wanted to prove himself, to show everyone that he wasn't just Renji's troubled younger brother. But now, hearing the fear in their voices, the worry in their eyes, he felt like he had failed once again.

Nara, still seated calmly, spoke up. "This wasn't your fault, Yogan. Whatever happened last night, it was beyond your control. But we need to understand it. We need to figure out what caused it."

Yogan could only nod, feeling a deep, gnawing fear creeping into his chest. What had he unleashed? What had he become?

As the silence stretched on, Yogan sipped his tea, his mind heavy with questions.

---

Yogan sat in his room, staring at the now-empty tea cup Nara had left behind. The warmth from the tea had spread through his body, leaving him feeling more alert and grounded. His exhaustion had lifted, and for the first time since waking up, he felt like he could breathe again. There was something in that tea—something calming, almost mystical. He could feel the energy coursing back through his veins, though his mind remained heavy with unanswered questions.

After Renji and his parents had left, the temple fell into a familiar, serene silence. Yogan stood, testing his strength. His limbs no longer felt like lead, and his head had cleared enough for him to think straight. The revelation that a spirit might have taken control of him lingered, casting an eerie shadow over his thoughts. But more than fear, Yogan felt something else brewing within him—excitement.

If a spirit had possessed him, if that power had been real, then maybe—just maybe—there was something more to him than even he had realized. He wasn't just some failure in the shadow of Renji. There was something inside of him, something powerful. And now, more than ever, Yogan was determined to understand it.

Quietly, Yogan moved toward the door. He wasn't in the mood for more questions, or for another lecture about what had happened the night before. He needed to think, to be alone. As he slipped through the hallways of the temple, he kept his steps light, careful not to draw any attention. It wasn't difficult—the temple was largely empty, the others likely still recovering from the chaos of the festival.

He made his way down the familiar paths, avoiding the open courtyards and main halls. Eventually, he reached his favorite hidden spot: the Great Hall. The room was dimly lit, its high ceilings casting long shadows across the floor. At the center stood the massive statue of Wan, embraced by the spirit Raava. The sight of it always filled Yogan with a strange sense of longing. Wan was the first human and only human who had mastered all the elements and brought balance to the world.

Yogan stood before the statue, staring up at Wan's serene expression, the powerful spirit Raava curling around him in a protective embrace. It was a symbol of unity, of balance between the physical world and the spirit world. For as long as Yogan could remember, he had wanted to emulate them—to travel the world, to master the elements, to become something greater than himself. He had always admired Wan's journey, the way he had brought peace to both worlds.

But now… now, something had changed. Yogan's curiosity about the spirit that had taken hold of him was growing, pushing aside his fear. If a spirit had chosen him—if that power had truly come from within him—then maybe he had the potential to achieve what Wan had. Maybe he could learn to control it. Maybe this was his chance to finally prove himself.

"I could be like you," Yogan whispered, his eyes tracing the curve of Raava's form. "I could learn the other elements. I could travel the world, bring balance… just like you did."

His heart raced at the thought. The spirit that had possessed him—was it like Raava? Did it hold the same kind of power? The possibilities swirled in his mind, intoxicating and dangerous. He didn't just want to understand what had happened to him; he wanted to harness it. He wanted to control it.

As he sat there, lost in thought, a strange sensation washed over him. The room grew colder, the air heavier. Yogan's eyes remained locked on the statue of Wan, but something was changing. The edges of his vision blurred, and the light around the statue seemed to shift, growing brighter and more intense.

Then, without warning, his eyes began to glow—a bright, ethereal white-blue light, the same color as Raava's energy in the statue. Yogan's heart pounded in his chest as the temple walls seemed to tremble around him, the ground beneath him shaking. The light in his eyes intensified, and he felt an overwhelming surge of energy, unlike anything he had ever experienced before. It was as if something deep within him had awakened, a force far beyond his understanding.

The walls of the temple groaned under the strain, and for a moment, Yogan felt as though he were being pulled out of his body, as though the power coursing through him would consume him entirely.

Suddenly, a firm hand gripped his shoulder, snapping him out of the trance. The glow in his eyes faded, and the shaking of the temple came to an abrupt halt. Yogan gasped, his heart still racing as he turned to see who had pulled him back.

Standing behind him was a stranger, dressed in the traditional garb of the Water Tribe. His dark blue cloak was lined with fur, and his face, partially obscured by the shadows of the temple, bore a calm, unreadable expression. The stranger's eyes met Yogan's, steady and sharp.

"What… what just happened?" Yogan asked, his voice hoarse, his breath coming in shallow gasps.

The stranger didn't answer immediately. Instead, he glanced at the statue of Wan, his expression thoughtful. Finally, after a long pause, he turned his gaze back to Yogan.

"You were… tapping into something," the stranger said slowly, his voice deep and measured. "Something ancient. Something powerful."

Yogan swallowed hard, his mind still reeling from the intensity of what had just happened. "Who… who are you?"

The stranger smiled faintly, though there was no warmth in it. "That's not important right now," he said. "But what is important is that you learn to control what's inside of you. Before it consumes you."

Yogan's heart raced, the excitement and fear swirling together in his chest. Control. That was exactly what he wanted—what he needed. But how? And why was this stranger here, in the temple, as if he had been waiting for him?

Before Yogan could ask more questions, the man took a step back, his cloak shifting slightly with the movement. "We'll talk again soon," the stranger said, his voice low. "For now, you should rest. You've barely scratched the surface of your potential."

And with that, the man turned and disappeared into the shadows of the Great Hall, leaving Yogan standing there, still trembling from the aftershocks of the power he had felt.

---

Meanwhile, down the mountain path, Renji walked alongside his parents, the three of them moving with purpose as they discussed Yogan's outburst. Their earlier display of concern had long since faded, replaced by cold calculation.

"Yogan's becoming more of a liability," Renji's father muttered, his expression hard. "If he can't control himself, he's going to ruin everything we've worked for."

His mother nodded in agreement, her eyes narrowed. "He's always been a problem. But now… now he's dangerous."

Renji clenched his fists at his sides. "I know. But I'll handle him. I'll make sure he doesn't get in the way."

His father glanced at him, his gaze sharp. "Your sacrifice won't be in vain, Renji. We need Yogan under control, or we'll have no choice but to remove him from the equation."

Renji's jaw tightened, the weight of his father's words sinking in. He couldn't allow Yogan to ruin their plans. Not now, when they were so close.

As they reached the base of the mountain, Renji's father placed a hand on his son's shoulder. "Remember," he said, his voice low and firm. "Our goals are finally within reach. You can't let Yogan get in the way. Do whatever it takes."

Renji nodded, his resolve hardening. "I won't fail. I'll make sure of it."

With that, Renji watched as his parents departed, disappearing down the path. He stood there for a moment, staring after them, the weight of their expectations pressing down on him. Then, with a deep breath, he turned and began the long walk back up the mountain.

---

Back in the Great Hall, Yogan stood before the statue of Wan, his heart still pounding from the experience. The stranger's words echoed in his mind: "Control what's inside of you… before it consumes you."

Yogan stared up at the statue, his eyes tracing the contours of Wan's face, the way Raava's energy seemed to wrap around him. He could feel the power still thrumming beneath his skin, waiting to be unleashed again. But this time, he wouldn't let it overwhelm him.

This time, he would control it.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, steadying himself. But as he opened his eyes again, he was struck by a strange sensation—like he was being pulled into the statue itself, into the energy that surrounded Wan and Raava. His eyes began to glow once more, the same ethereal white-blue light as before, and the temple trembled.

The light intensified, and Yogan felt himself slipping, his consciousness fading as the power surged through him. The shaking grew more violent, the very foundation of the temple groaning under the strain.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped.