Chapter Text
Prologue:
“Come to your senses; suspense is fine if you’re just an empty image emanating out of a screen.”—Jonathan Larson
✧ ✧ ✧
At first Wan would watch the next incarnations of his life from the Spirit World, eager to see how well they would do. He liked to keep an eye on them, maybe pop up now and then to offer his advice.
The second Avatar—the one right after him—needed the most help figuring stuff out because while the world had heard of Wan, nobody ever expected for anyone else to inherit the ability of bending all four elements. So Wan had had to explain it all to the guy, share with him the purpose of having all that power in the first place. And Raava helped, chiming in from time to time in order to make things clearer.
It didn’t take too long for Wan to notice the pattern—apparently the Avatar spirit always passed on to the next group of benders. After him, the next Avatar was born to airbenders. Then the next one came from the waterbenders, and after that came an earthbender. And the same pattern repeated itself without fail. Wan’s soul along with Raava consistently moved around in that cycle.
Each Avatar was different, and they grew even more different as the world around them changed. Wan was proud of them all without fail, no matter how many mistakes they made or how hard it was for them to handle the responsibility of looking out for the world. He tried to do his best to let them know they were doing an incredible job, to support them whenever they needed it. It felt like some of them could really use it.
But the more time passed and the more foreign the world became to him, the less he visited his reincarnations. It was hard to watch the humans as they decidedly separated into four groups, staying out of each other’s way for the most part. With the lion turtle cities it was unavoidable—Wan himself hadn’t even been aware of other people’s existence at first. But these people… they knew they weren’t alone in the world yet they chose to split themselves up, like they weren’t all one and the same.
They divided themselves into four nations according to their bending, and each group of people developed unique costumes and different ways of life. Maybe they felt compelled to do so, knowing their ancestors lived separately as well. Maybe it felt natural to them, living with people who had the same abilities. Either way, each nation grew, got stronger and more defined. And the Avatars of this new age had to make sure the harmony between the nations remained.
He wasn’t sure at what point in time exactly he stopped overlooking the progress of the Avatars’ job. All Wan knew was that he took a step back and instead tried to enjoy the peace of the Spirit World in the company of many of his spirit companions from the time before he’d separated the two worlds. It was nice and quiet and relaxing…
A peek or two at the world he’d left behind revealed to him that a lot of time had passed and that his name had been forgotten, lost to the years. He wasn’t concerned about it—the Avatar’s duty got passed down from one Avatar to the next so it wasn’t like there was any need for Wan to intervene and re-set the path he wanted his reincarnations to take. It was slightly concerning to learn the new Avatars weren’t aware of Raava’s involvement in the Avatar cycle, but he figured that wasn’t too big of an issue either. She would have made herself known had it been necessary, he was certain of it.
So, seeing as he was no longer needed, Wan let the new Avatars be.
✧ ✧ ✧
The Avatar State was a strange thing to get used to. It wasn’t as refined or well-explored at first. But the more time passed, the more times it happened—the more they understood about this inexplicable power.
Every time the present Avatar entered that state, the souls of his predecessors would flash away from whatever they were doing in the Spirit World in order to live through whatever it was this Avatar was dealing with, combining their knowledge and efforts to help. And the more Avatars were called upon, the stronger the Avatar State became since each one had something to add to the mix.
Wan got used to it pretty quickly. It usually lasted no longer than an hour tops, then he got to go back to doing whatever it was he was doing before he was summoned. He never minded being interrupted like that. He was simply glad he could still help, no matter how much more experience the Avatars after him seemed to have. They got to learn how to control the elements over long stretches of time, mastering them all until they were mostly flawless. Wan… he’d had less than a year to try and learn how to bend three additional elements.
Anyway, when he was pulled away from the aye-aye spirit, Wan didn’t mind. He simply allowed his knowledge to flood the current Avatar along with the rest of them and waited for the Avatar State to reach its end. In the meantime, he let his senses take in the situation this Avatar got themselves into—nearly drowning along with a flying bison during a storm.
Great.
He waited. And waited. And waited.
The Avatar State kept on going. All of them… all of them… were stuck.
The cacophony of voices flooded his mind as they all began to wonder what was going on, why they were still in the Avatar State, what was happening that was taking so long. The recent Avatars were the quietest—always the ones who were the most invested in their successors. It made sense they would be familiar with the situation and understand what was causing this strange occurrence.
Wan let them wash over him, their names passing through his head before slipping right back out. He knew them—just thinking about them let their experiences and identities insert themselves in his mind—but he didn’t see the need to interact with their panicked beings. He wanted to understand what was happening.
If he concentrated enough, he could separate the voices in his head, hearing only the ones he wanted to focus on. So he pushed them all away and instead tried to isolate the voice he would recognize as the current Avatar in the cycle. He knew he’d recognize it the moment he heard it, but for that he needed to listen.
How long is this gonna—
—in the middle of whistling the anthem—
—bargaining with that spirit—
—freezing to death!
—llo? Hello? Who are you? What’s going on?
There!
Wan concentrated on the young voice and the world fell away, leaving him staring at nothing but the image of a scared little kid—not even old enough to be a teenager. The boy was wearing Air Nomad clothes and already supported the familiar blue tattoos marking the master airbenders. That must have been quite the accomplishment for someone as young as he was.
His gray eyes were darting all around, clearly overstimulated by the thousands of voices ringing all around his head. It was odd, how young this Avatar seemed to be. Usually it took a while for them to trigger the Avatar State, although there had been a few exceptions. Still, seeing the lost, confused and upset expression on the kid’s face made Wan’s heart squeeze painfully.
“Focus, Aang,” he said.
The boy’s brow twitched as he looked in a different direction, clearly having heard Wan without realizing where he was.
“Focus on my voice. Let everything and everyone else fall away,” Wan told him gently. “You can do it. Just…” Wan hesitated, watching the boy thoughtfully. He was an airbender, right? So all he needed to do was just—“Breathe.”
Some of the panic melted off the boy’s face as he closed his eyes and seemed to fill his lungs with air. For a few seconds Wan simply watched as he breathed—inhaling and exhaling in a very purposeful way that only practicing airbending could require. Some of the tension in his shoulders sipped out and he heaved in relief before once more opening his gray eyes.
They focused on Wan almost immediately.
“Who are you?” Aang asked.
“My name is Wan. I was your first life.”
Aang’s eyes blew wide open. “You mean… you were the first Avatar? Were those other voices also past Avatars?”
“Yeah. You called upon us when you entered the Avatar State.”
“The what? What’s that? I-I didn’t mean to do anything. I was just… drowning. I think I fainted.” Aang looked down at his hands, looking mildly alarmed. “Did I die? Is this why I’m here, because that storm killed me? W-what about Appa? Is he okay?”
Appa—Aang’s flying bison.
“You’re not dead. And neither is Appa. You’re both going to be okay,” Wan promised and watched as the kid relaxed a little once more. “You were in danger, so you subconsciously activated the Avatar State. All of your past lives have come to assist you, keep you alive. You and your bison are currently inside a frozen air bubble underwater. I think we’re going to be stuck like that until someone rescues you.”
Aang looked utterly lost. “But… what if no one does?”
Wan smiled at him. “Someone will come. You’ll see. The world is a funny place. I believe everything happens for a reason. Maybe you’re in that ice right now for a reason that would become apparent in the future. Maybe the world is going to need you some other time instead of right this moment.”
Apprehensively, Aang sat down, pulled his knees to his chest and muttered, “I don’t want the world to need me. I… I don’t think I want to be the Avatar.”
Tipping his head to the side, Wan watched the downcast kid curiously. He took a seat across from him, his legs crossed in a Lotus position, and stared attentively as Aang looked down unseeingly, curling into himself like he was trying to make himself seem smaller than he already was.
Wan didn’t need to try hard to get to the kid’s memories. He easily tapped into them, peering into moments in time that seemed to mean a lot to this incarnation of him.
Aang—even younger and without his tattoos—receiving an apple from a female Air Nomad and being told to choose a sky bison carefully. Aang had approached Appa, then giggled in delight when the bison tackled him to the ground.
Aang beaming happily on the day when he got his airbender tattoos, signaling he’d mastered the element. His friends and Monk Gyatso grinned back, proud and happy for him.
Aang—with his arrows this time—talking to a ginger Earth Kingdom kid that laughed and snorted at the idea of using the mail system of a city as their own personal slide.
Aang showing his friends an airbending technique he’d invented, excitedly sharing this new bit of fun information with his peers, soaking in their positive reactions to the air scooter and handing out advice to the lot of them.
Aang being told he was the Avatar by four severe-looking monks who also let him know something was going to happen—something that would require the help of the Avatar. Aang hadn’t looked all that certain about that, bewilderment shining in his eyes.
Aang being shunned by his friends once they found out he was the Avatar, claiming he had an unfair disadvantage because of it and that he couldn’t join their games anymore. It had made Aang sulk away, disappointment and slight resentment toward his newly discovered role coursing through his veins.
Aang eavesdropping on the monks as they discussed separating him from his guardian in order to make sure he was concentrating on his Avatar tasks rather than wasting his time. His shocked and stormy expression at hearing the news had been completely validated.
Aang sneaking away before the monks could whisk him off to a different Air Temple, using Appa to navigate through a raging storm that made him scream in alarm and Appa roar in fear as the heavens poured down on them, the wind blowing in their faces, sending them into an uncontrolled course.
Aang and Appa going underwater, both of them drowning as water entered their lungs, suffocating them—and then his eyes and arrows began to glow. Clenching Appa’s reins with renewed energy, Aang pressed his fists together and a bubble of air covered both him and the bison before freezing over, leaving the two of them frozen in place and adrift at the bottom of the ocean.
Blowing out a puff of air, Wan muttered, “Yeah… your experience as the Avatar hasn’t been all too great so far.”
“You know how I got here?” Aang asked in surprise.
“We’re connected. Everything that happens to you is available to me.”
“Does this go both ways? Can I just… just know what’d happened to you?”
Wan made a so-so motion. “I’d have to show you. But I don’t think you need to see all of that right now. Although it would provide an explanation as to why you’re stuck with a destiny you don’t want, I suppose. I did decide to go down this road. I’m sorry you don’t feel inclined to do the same.”
Aang grimaced and glanced down at his feet. “I’m not… I’m not saying being the Avatar is a bad thing. I’m not trying to offend you or judge your choices—”
“I know.”
“I just want the life I used to have. I never wanted things to change,” finished Aang in a defeated voice. He sighed and shook his head. “Does that mean the only reason I was ever really good at airbending was because all of my past lives had mastered the element already? Was it all just muscle memory I’ve been using subconsciously?”
Shaking his head, Wan ruffled his head a bit and let his lips quirk upward. “It doesn’t work that way. The knowledge of using the different forms of bending does exist in you, Aang, because of your connection to all of us. But in order to reach it, you have to activate the Avatar State. The rest of the time, you’re on your own, learning it all as if from scratch. Some of us were really bad at bending until we got some practice in. Others were closer to you—bending came more naturally to them.
“You mastering airbending at twelve?” Wan said, locking gazes with Aang and offering him a wide grin. “That’s all on you.”
The corner of Aang’s mouth tilted upward as he returned his lopsided grin. Honestly, other than all of the Avatar stuff they had going on, Wan noticed that the one feature they all shared in every single incarnation was the crooked smile. It was sort of funny to see but he figured it wasn’t really what the kid needed to hear right now.
“You’re going to be fine,” Wan said after a long moment. “Once you’ll get out of the ice, you’ll find your footing and you’ll be fine.”
Head tipping sideways, Aang asked, “Will I be able to interact with you or the others without doing something like… this?” He gestured around vaguely.
“Of course! I told you, we’re a part of you, Aang. If you need us, you’ll find a way. We’re with you all the time—”
“So you’re all just watching me and judging my progress?”
“Well, personally I stopped watching the new Avatars a while back. They didn’t really need me anymore. And, like you, most people don’t remember my name, so calling for me is rather difficult. But you have Roku—the Avatar who came before you—and everyone else. They won’t look down on you; they’ll try to help you however they can.”
Aang hummed noncommittedly, then whispered, “Am I gonna remember any of this?”
Looking all around at the empty void surrounding them, Wan shrugged. “Honestly… I don’t know. I know the others have a hard time remembering much from their time in the Avatar State. But they were never in it for this long. Maybe it’ll be different for you.”
The boy nodded slowly, taking that in and most likely mulling it over.
“So… if I don’t remember this later, I won’t be able to call you because your name will slip away from me, right?” said Aang, sounding somewhat subdued. “Not that I’m planning on it, of course. I’m sure you have much better things to do—”
“I think I’ll keep an eye on you,” said Wan, and he found that he truly did want to do so, like in the good old days. “If you’ll ever need me, I’ll come.”
The kid’s gray eyes met his. At first there was mostly hesitancy reflecting in them, but then they crinkled at the corner as a wider, warmer smile spread across Aang’s face. Wan returned it, already feeling a thrum of excitement at whatever life had in store for this abnormally young Avatar. Whatever it was, it would be interesting—he could sense it.