It didn't take long for Jinx to shake off the shock of bending water for the first time. His heart still hammered, but his mind—sharp and practical—was already cataloging the scene before him. Over a dozen waterbenders stood between him and freedom, their hands raised, water swirling at their command like serpents ready to strike. And at the center of it all, like a glacier that refused to melt, stood Grandmaster Pakku.
Even Jinx wasn't arrogant enough to think he could leave unscathed. Not here, not now. Yes, he had his black ice, his magenta flames, even his lightning—deadly tools sharpened to perfection. But this was their home turf. He could feel it in the ground beneath his boots, the canals, the walls of ice around him: this was the Northern Tribe's domain. For all his raw power, he had no idea what traps or tactics they had prepared for an intruder like him.
Two options unfolded in his mind as clearly as the night sky above: fight or surrender. To fight meant unleashing everything, carving a bloody path through their defenses—he could already picture the chaos, the destruction, the corpses. He would win, but he would also lose: his secrecy, his chance at learning, perhaps even his life.
But surrender… surrender could be twisted into advantage. His lips curved faintly. He had come here hoping to master waterbending, to understand this element as deeply as he had fire and ice. If he let them take him, if he endured their chains and judgment, it might open doors violence could never touch.
Decision made, Jinx raised his hands slowly. "Alright," he said with a dry laugh, violet eyes gleaming under the moonlight, "you've got me. But don't think for a second I couldn't have burned this whole place to the ground if I wanted."
The waterbenders stiffened, caught between suspicion and unease at his confidence. Pakku narrowed his eyes, studying Jinx as though trying to read the truth from his soul. And Jinx, calm now, lowered his gaze, knowing full well that in this game, patience—not fire—would be his sharpest weapon.
Jinx let the silence stretch after his words, his hands still raised, fire simmering just beneath his skin. Around him the waterbenders exchanged uneasy glances. Some looked ready to lash out, others seemed almost afraid to test the strange youth who had so casually bent fire, ice, and even water in the span of a single fight. The canals still rippled from where he had instinctively drawn liquid to his defense.
Pakku stepped forward at last, his posture straight and uncompromising, but his eyes sharp with curiosity. "Bind him. But carefully." His voice was cold, commanding, like the edge of a glacier grinding across stone. "This one… he is not what he appears."
A few of the younger warriors hesitated, unsure. Jinx smirked at their nerves, violet eyes glinting with something between amusement and disdain. He allowed them to weave cuffs of ice around his wrists. The bindings were snug, biting cold against his skin, but they might as well have been cloth for all the effort it would have taken him to break free. Yet Jinx remained still, content to play the prisoner—for now.
They marched him through the streets of the Northern Water Tribe. The moon hung high, its light spilling over towers and bridges of ice, illuminating the tribe's proud architecture. Jinx glanced around with interest, his sharp gaze drinking in details. Towers sculpted of pure white ice, canals threading through the city like veins, and the watchful eyes of guards on every corner. It was a fortress, a jewel carved out of the frozen north.
And yet… he had walked straight in. He almost laughed.
The people stared as he passed. Men, women, even children gathered at the edges of the street, whispering to one another as they looked upon the strange intruder with bound wrists and a firebender's stance. Jinx could feel their suspicion, their fear, their hatred. The air was thick with it. He wondered how many of them would beg to see him executed if Pakku so much as raised a finger.
At last, they brought him to the grand hall—a chamber of polished ice that gleamed under the moonlight shining through its dome. Warriors flanked the room, and at the far end sat the chieftain himself, Arnook, regal and severe, his heavy cloak lined with the fur of white bear-seals. Beside him, as if the spirits themselves had decided to test Jinx's patience further, sat Princess Yue. Her pale hair shimmered silver in the light, her delicate features composed in prayerful serenity.
Jinx's eyes lingered on her a moment too long, catching the faint aura of moonlight that seemed to cling to her. She looked fragile, untouchable. But her eyes—when they flicked toward him—were filled not with fear, but with curiosity.
"Grandmaster Pakku," Arnook intoned, his voice like the groan of shifting icebergs. "What is this? You bring a firebender into our walls?"
Pakku's jaw tightened. "Not just any firebender. He came through our defenses with ease, using tricks even I have not seen before. He wielded fire unlike fire, ice unlike ice… and then, before my own eyes, he bent water."
The hall erupted in murmurs. A firebender bending water? Impossible. Treasonous. Blasphemous. The words echoed in whispers across the gathered crowd.
Arnook's stern gaze fixed on Jinx. "Explain yourself, boy. What are you?"
Jinx tilted his head, a crooked grin tugging at his lips despite the weight of the room pressing in on him. "Depends who's asking. To you? Just a traveler who stumbled where I wasn't wanted."
A ripple of outrage spread through the hall at his flippant tone, but Yue… Yue's lips parted in the faintest hint of a smile. She was studying him the way one studies a riddle whispered by the spirits.
Arnook raised his hand, silencing the whispers. "You mock us in our own home. You are lucky we have not already cast you into the sea."
Jinx shrugged, icy chains clinking with the movement. "Maybe. But if I were your enemy, this whole city would already be ash. You think your ice wall could've stopped me?" His eyes flicked toward Pakku with deliberate challenge. "Ask your grandmaster. He saw how easily I walked through."
The room went still. The words were arrogance, yes, but they rang with enough truth that no one could fully dismiss them. Pakku's silence only fueled the unease.
Arnook leaned forward, his tone sharper now. "If you are not the Avatar, then what are you?"
Jinx paused at that, violet eyes narrowing ever so slightly. The mention of the Avatar stirred something in the crowd—hope, suspicion, desperation. He could feel it all. He smirked, finally shaking his head. "Not the Avatar. That honor belongs to a bald little monk. I've seen him. He's on his way here, probably even now."
Gasps rippled through the room. Yue's eyes widened, her lips parting as though she wanted to speak but dared not. Arnook's expression hardened, but Pakku's gaze sharpened, narrowing like the point of a spear.
"You lie," Pakku said coldly. "You speak as though you know the Avatar personally."
"I don't lie," Jinx said flatly, his smirk fading for the first time. "And whether you believe me or not… he's coming. The boy's alive. And you'll see soon enough."
For a moment, silence reigned. Even the guards shifted uneasily, torn between disbelief and the undeniable conviction in Jinx's voice.
Arnook leaned back on his throne of ice, his tone slow and deliberate. "If what you say is true, then your arrival here is no accident. But firebender…" His eyes narrowed. "Do not mistake our hospitality for mercy. You will be watched. Questioned. Judged."
Jinx smirked again, leaning back as though he were lounging on the chains themselves. "Hospitality, huh? Could've fooled me."
But deep down, behind the smirk and the swagger, his mind was racing. He had gotten exactly what he wanted: entry, suspicion, and—soon—access. If he played his cards right, this frozen cage might just become the key to mastering the water within him.
Jinx didn't know how long he sat chained in the cold chamber. Time felt sluggish, almost muffled, the silence broken only by the faint drip of melting ice. He wasn't uncomfortable—cold had long since lost its bite on him—but the tension in the air was heavy, deliberate. The Water Tribe wanted him to feel like prey waiting for judgment.
When the door finally opened, it was no guards who entered, but Pakku himself. The grandmaster's steps were measured, his cloak dragging across the icy floor, his sharp eyes fixed on Jinx with that same blend of suspicion and curiosity.
"On your feet," Pakku commanded.
Jinx smirked but obeyed, rising in one fluid motion. The ice cuffs around his wrists cracked slightly as his muscles flexed, and though he didn't break them, the gesture wasn't lost on Pakku.
"You're reckless," the old master said, circling him like a wolf sizing up prey. "You walk into our home as if walls mean nothing. You wield fire in ways no firebender should. And then…" His gaze narrowed. "You bend water. Explain yourself."
Jinx tilted his head, violet eyes gleaming with amusement. "You ask me questions like I keep the answers in my pocket. Truth is, old man, I don't know why it happened. I just raised my hand, and the water moved. Surprised me as much as it did you."
Pakku didn't look convinced. With a flick of his wrist, water surged from a nearby canal, coiling into a thin sphere that hovered between them. "Then you'll prove it. Bend this water. Now."
For once, Jinx hesitated. He hadn't tried again since the fight, half-wondering if it had been a fluke. Slowly, he raised his bound hands. He focused—not on the fire roaring in his veins, not on the ice he commanded with cold precision, but on the liquid itself. The way it pulsed, the way it carried the rhythm of life.
The sphere quivered. Jinx narrowed his eyes, pulling at that sensation he had felt before, like tugging on a thread deep inside. The water shivered—and then it obeyed, drifting an inch toward him.
Gasps echoed in the chamber.
Pakku's expression didn't change, though his eyes sharpened. He lifted his own hand, pulling the sphere away. "Again."
This time Jinx scowled. "I'm not your circus animal."
"You are a danger to everyone here until I know what you are," Pakku snapped, his patience razor-thin. "Do it again."
The fire inside Jinx flared, irritation sparking against his ribs. His violet gaze burned hotter, and he raised his hands with a sharp gesture. The sphere didn't just move—it snapped toward him, then split apart into dozens of droplets that froze in midair around his body like tiny black-tinged crystals. For a heartbeat, he looked like he was standing in a halo of frozen stars.
Pakku's lips pressed into a thin line. Even he hadn't expected that level of instinctive control.
"Interesting," the grandmaster murmured, stroking his beard. "Raw, unfocused… but there's potential."
Jinx smirked, letting the frozen droplets fall and shatter at his feet. "So what now? You planning to chain me up and poke at me until you figure out if I'm some kind of mistake?"
Pakku stepped closer, his eyes hard. "You think this is a game, boy? The balance of the world rests on the Avatar alone. If another appears—if someone not chosen by the cycle wields more than one element—it threatens everything. Do you understand that?"
For once, Jinx didn't grin. His gaze flicked down, thoughtful. "Maybe the world's balance needs a little shaking."
The silence that followed was thick, dangerous. Pakku studied him for a long moment before turning away, his cloak swishing like the sweep of a blade.
"You will remain under watch," he said at last. "I will test you again, in controlled conditions. Until then, do not mistake my restraint for trust."
As the door closed behind him, Jinx leaned back against the frozen wall, smirking faintly despite the lingering tension. "Controlled conditions, huh? We'll see who controls who."
The next day, Jinx was escorted under heavy guard to a secluded training ground encircled by ice walls. The place was eerily quiet, save for the groaning of the frozen structures as the wind pressed against them. At the center stood Grandmaster Pakku, his arms folded, eyes narrowing as Jinx was shoved forward.
"This is not a lesson," Pakku said flatly. "This is an evaluation. I need to know whether what you did before was instinct or skill. And whether you're capable of controlling it—or if you're just a dangerous accident waiting to happen."
Jinx cracked his neck lazily. "Sounds like fun already."
The first exercise was simple—or so Pakku claimed. A single stream of water rose from the ground and hovered between them. "Move it. Shape it."
Jinx extended his hand, remembering the sensation of pulling on a hidden thread. The water wavered, sluggish at first, then twisted into a thin coil that spun around his wrist like a bracelet. He smirked.
"Again," Pakku said, his voice unreadable. "But faster."
The coil expanded into a whip, snapping outward with surprising sharpness. The water splashed against the ice wall, freezing on contact. A murmur went through the observing guards, but Pakku's face betrayed nothing.
Then came the real test. Without warning, Pakku thrust his hands forward, sending a barrage of ice shards whistling through the air toward Jinx.
For an instant, Jinx's body reacted before his mind could. He raised both arms, and a sheet of water erupted from the canal beneath his feet, freezing into a barrier that caught the shards with a resounding crack. Jinx blinked at it, stunned. He hadn't even thought—his body had just done it.
Pakku's eyes sharpened. "Instinct."
But the grandmaster wasn't finished. He shifted the ground beneath Jinx's feet, causing the ice to buckle, aiming to throw him off balance. Jinx stumbled—but instead of falling, he twisted his body, pulling water upward in a spiral that steadied him, the liquid swirling like a serpent around his frame. He laughed, exhilarated.
"This is supposed to be difficult, right?" Jinx taunted, violet eyes flashing.
That was when Pakku changed tactics. He forced the water to rise against Jinx, a crushing wave meant to overwhelm. Jinx inhaled sharply, bracing himself—not to resist, but to answer. He thrust his palms forward, and to everyone's shock, the wave split clean down the middle, parting around his body before crashing harmlessly behind him.
Silence fell. Even Pakku's composure cracked, his brows furrowing deeply.
"How…?" he muttered under his breath. This wasn't a fumbling novice. This was someone who was learning at a terrifying pace, adapting with each breath.
The guards exchanged uneasy looks, whispering among themselves. One young warrior even murmured, "He's a prodigy…"
Pakku silenced them with a sharp glare. He turned back to Jinx, who stood at the center of the shattered ground, grinning like a wolf.
"Genius?" Jinx said, catching the whispers. "No. Just quick on the uptake." He tilted his head mockingly. "Looks like your tribe's little secret weapon isn't so secret anymore."
Pakku's jaw tightened. He could not deny what he had seen. In the span of minutes, the boy had gone from clumsy tugging to shaping water under pressure with elegance and precision. Such progress was unheard of. Even the Avatar required months, years of guidance to learn what this stranger was pulling off by instinct.
The grandmaster exhaled slowly, masking his unease with authority. "You're dangerous," he said finally. "Far too dangerous to be left unchecked. From this point on, you will be under my direct supervision."
Jinx only smirked wider, his violet eyes gleaming with mischief and something far darker. "Careful, old man. You might start sounding like my teacher."
Pakku said nothing, but inside, a cold thought gnawed at him: If this boy continues at this pace… he could rival the Avatar himself.
The council chamber of the Northern Water Tribe was vast and solemn, its ice walls carved with flowing patterns that caught the torchlight like frozen rivers. Chief Arnook sat at the head, with Princess Yue quietly at his side, her face composed though her pale eyes betrayed curiosity. Around them were gathered the tribe's eldest masters and advisors, men with long beards and women with silvered braids, voices of tradition and memory.
Pakku stood in the center, his posture stiff, his expression unreadable. He had taught countless students, faced invaders, and served his people with unwavering loyalty. But what he was about to say tested even his patience.
"I have observed the boy," Pakku began, his deep voice echoing through the chamber. "He is… unlike anything I've ever seen. Within hours, he displayed waterbending skill that should take years to cultivate. Reflexive, adaptive, precise. He bends instinctively, as though water were simply another limb."
A ripple of uneasy murmurs passed through the elders. One of the older men slammed his staff on the ground. "Then he is too dangerous to be allowed to live. A firebender—here, in our sacred home? And now you say he wields our own gift? Execute him before he becomes a calamity!"
Several elders nodded fiercely, their voices rising in agreement. "Spirits forbid we nurture another threat! Kill him now before he brings ruin upon us!"
Pakku's jaw clenched. He swallowed his pride before speaking again. "Execution… would be shortsighted."
The chamber went silent at once. Even Chief Arnook raised his brows, surprised. Pakku had never spoken in defense of a firebender.
Reluctantly, Pakku continued. "There are things I've seen in this boy that we must not ignore. He is utterly unaffected by the cold—no shivering, no hesitation. His clothing is light, wholly unsuited for our climate, and yet he walked bare-skinned through icy waters at midnight, waters that would kill even a trained warrior in minutes. One of my own students witnessed him slipping from ice cuffs not by breaking them, but by… passing through them, as though their hold meant nothing."
The words unsettled even the most stoic elders.
"And there is more," Pakku said grimly. "His firebending is unlike any other—dark, violet flames that scorch with terrifying intensity. He commands lightning with ease. And… he bends something else. A black ice that steals the heat of whatever it touches. If we attack recklessly, the casualties will be on our side, not his."
An elder woman hissed, clutching her robe tighter. "Blasphemy. A creature like that should never have been allowed past our walls!"
Arnook raised a hand for silence, his eyes thoughtful. "So, Master Pakku… you are saying he is not merely a threat. He is… a once-in-a-century genius."
The old master's lips pressed thin. He did not want to admit it. But his honor bound him to truth. "…Yes. His talent rivals prodigies I have trained in my lifetime. Perhaps even exceeds them."
The council erupted in discord—some shouting for Jinx's death, others demanding imprisonment, and a rare few whispering that such a gift should not be squandered. Through it all, Yue's gaze remained distant, her mind replaying the name she had overheard—Jinx.
Chief Arnook finally spoke above the chaos. "If he is what you say, then killing him may rob us of something the Spirits themselves have sent. But keeping him is dangerous." His voice lowered, heavy with tension. "We must decide. Will the boy live as an asset under watch—or die as a threat eradicated?"
The chamber fell into an uneasy silence.
And though Pakku kept his face calm, his thoughts churned: This boy could change everything. For better—or for much, much worse.