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ABCLAF Logo This Kataang one-shot takes place in The Boy in the Iceberg.



Chapter One: Introduction[]

He is cold, so very cold.

He cannot feel a thing.

He is cold, so very cold.

He cannot feel a thing.

He is cold, so very cold.

He cannot feel a thing.

In cycles, almost, his senses darken, then return. Darken, then return. Darken, then return.

On occasion, he can catch brief glimpses of white and blue. Water and ice.

Sea and sky.

And then all is black.

Sometimes, he can hear the crackling of the iceberg around him and the pounding of the waves.

His heartbeat.

And then all is mute.

Every so often, he can smell the refreshing cold and the stinging seawater.

His fear.

And then all is scentless.

Now and then, he can taste the chill on his tongue and the warmth in his mouth.

His blood.

And then all is bland.

At times, he can feel the warmth on his back and the pain in his heart.

His longing.

And then all is gone.

He wants to die.

Desperately.

He needs to leave.

He cannot live inside his world of sea and sky.

He.

Must.

Leave.

In his most frightening moments, he cannot remember his own name.

Aang.

Aang.

Aang.

Please, spirits, don't let me forget my name.

Please.

That is the one thing I have left.

And then.

What is it?

I can't remember.

I have nothing.

Kill me.

I have lost my soul.

And suddenly, illuminated in his mind's eye . . .

Aang.

Aang.

Aang.

Please, spirits, don't let me forget my name.

Please.

That is the one thing I have left.

He is suspended in this void, somewhere between life and death, and he is screaming, though he cannot hear.

Something shifts.

The ice snaps. The water roils. The voices sing.

He can hear them.

He can hear them.

And they sing.

Loud.

Angry.

Concerned?

And then.

Pain.

He is screaming again.

And his time, he can hear himself.

Lost forever in an world of agony, pain, and torture, he writhes, and then his world is bathed in light.

He is atop the iceberg then, free, finally free, with nothing—nothing—in his way.

The sunlight is too much.

He sways.

Fight it.

Fight it, Aang.

Fight it!

He tips.

No!

Fight it!

Fight it!

He falls.

Fight it!

Aang!

Fight—

He is caught on a gust of wind.

The pain has subsided, and he gently floats on the breeze, slowly rotating his body, until he is looking into the endless night-jewel skies above.

And the girl.

The spirit.

The angel.

A faint smile flickers on his lips.

Is she an angel?

Is she a spirit?

Is she a figment of my imagination?

Please. I need to know.

Tell me.

Please.

I'm dying.

Tell me.

Please.

Please.

Please.

You can't do this.

Oh, spirits.

She is embracing him.

Her warmth comforts him.

And he knows what she will ask.

"What is your name?"

And he remembers.

"Aang."

Notes[]

This one is so very different from all the others. I was a little apprehensive about putting this as my first chapter. It's so very different that, well, I was worried it would scare away my fanbase . . . but it's the introduction. Actually, it ended up much better than I thought and didn't scare anything off. Cool!

Aang barely knew what was going on. Those five hundred lasted a hundred years. Yeah. I based on my dream.

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