Finally, after the unfortunate (and honestly dumb) death of Roku, Aang was born.
Out of all the Avatars I've ever been with, Roku was the only one I had practically zero relationship with. Sure, he knew of my existence, heard about me in fragmented whispers from past Avatars during his spiritual chats which for some reason i still can't access.
See, I needed Roku to make mistakes. The kind of mistakes that would shake the world just enough to light the fire for Aang's story. His failures weren't just convenient, they were necessary. Strategic. Every missed opportunity, every flawed decision... all part of the bigger picture I was planning.
Still, when he died, I couldn't help but sigh. I mean, seriously of all places in the world, you choose to build your home on an island next to an active volcano? I wanted to punch that old man straight through the spirit realm. Like, what was the plan there? "If the Fire Nation doesn't get me, lava will"?
Anyway. It didn't matter anymore. The past was sealed and my boy aang was finally here.
The one I had been waiting for. The one I had plans for.
Oh yeah, I had high expectations for Aang. And not just because he was strong or special. No, I had planted seeds across decades, little problems and ripples in the world, nothing too big to break the balance (I like existing, thank you very much), but enough to spice things up.
Through every cycle, I learned something new: as long as my interference didn't tip the scale too far, I could get away with a lot.
Twelve Years Later
Over the years, I'd occasionally pop into Aang's subconscious while he slept—just to mess with him. Little jumpscares here and there. Maybe a whisper in the dark, a flash of red eyes, a sudden cold breeze. You know, fun stuff.
Raava hated it. We argued about it every time.
"Stop traumatizing the child," she'd say.
"I'm building mental toughness," I'd reply.
She never bought it, but hey, tradition is tradition. I did this with every Avatar.
Still, I hadn't spoken to Aang directly. Not yet. I was waiting for the moment. Waiting for the iceberg.
Then, it finally happened. I watched the scene unfold in glorious, spiritual 4K. Aang fell into the sea, overwhelmed, panicked. The Avatar State activated like a reflex, energy surging in a flash of light—and boom—he was sealed in ice, suspended in time.
God, watching that moment never gets old. The Avatar State is beautiful, raw, divine, and terrifying.
Back when I was human, I used to think Raava controlled it. Turns out? Not really. It's more like a built-in failsafe—a spiritual "UI Mode." The Avatar State is a collection of instincts, experience, and raw energy layered over thousands of lives. Raava is the CPU, the core processor, but she's not steering the wheel. That's why the Avatar needs to learn how to control it. Think of it like UI from Lookism, but without the same adaptability or fluid combat instinct. A lot of power, but only when properly tamed.
Now that Aang was frozen, and time had stopped, I finally began my real plan.
One of the powers I had gained over the centuries was Soul Manipulation. Pretty handy, if I do say so myself. Using it, I tapped into Aang's consciousness. His soul was floating, dormant, like he was trapped in some deep, silent void. Cold. Isolated.
Perfect.
With a mental yank, I pulled him out of that limbo and into my mindscape—a plane of existence layered beneath the spiritual world, a place where I chill most of the time. Imagine a limitless void, shaped by will and emotion. My realm. My rules.
Aang's form shimmered into existence, curled in the fetal position, wrapped in a fog of unconsciousness.
Then… his fingers twitched. His eyes slowly fluttered open.
And that's when everything started.