The forest breathed around him.
Tall trees swayed with ancient rhythm, their trunks like pillars in a forgotten temple. Shafts of sunlight cut through the canopy, painting golden streaks across mossy ground. Lee moved with purpose, barefoot to feel the dirt, the roots, the rhythm of the earth. This was no casual journey — this was a pilgrimage.
He had prepared for this.
For two weeks, he'd tracked whispers. A cursed forest. A spirit of rage. Farmers spoke of disappearing cattle, twisted trees, strange footprints too large for any known animal. The name had returned again and again in frightened murmurs:
Hei Bai.
The Panda Spirit.
Lee stood at the threshold now — the burned grove.
Trees here were blackened and skeletal, clawing upward like hands reaching for a vanished sky. The scent of ash still lingered, though the fire had long died. The place thrummed with grief, with fury, with pain.
He stepped forward.
"Hei Bai," he said softly, bowing his head just slightly, "I come not to offend, but to witness. I've seen what the Fire Nation did to this place. I've seen what they burned."
No answer — just the wind.
But the energy shifted.
The silence turned oppressive, like something massive had just turned its attention toward him.
Lee breathed slowly, slipping into the deepest layer of his meditation. His vision blurred — not from fear, but from transition. The colors of the physical world dulled, while spectral shapes shimmered to life.
The Spirit World overlapped, faintly — enough for him to see movement. Something colossal stirred between the trees. White mask. Black fur. Towering presence. Yellow eyes like twin moons.
Hei Bai.
It growled, low and distant, not just through the air — but through the soul.
The air grew cold.
Lee remained still.
"I know your rage. I understand it. But what comes next is not vengeance — it is legacy," he whispered. "The world will forget your grief, unless someone carries it forward. Let me be that vessel."
The ground shook slightly — one heavy step.
Another.
Then silence again.
Lee reached into his satchel and pulled out an offering: a small totem carved from dark wood, etched with the symbol of duality — peace and rage, light and dark. A tribute, but also a symbol of intent.
Hei Bai stared.
The Spirit circled him — not physically, but energetically. Testing him. Judging him. Trying to sense falsehood.
Lee stood in total stillness, thoughts exposed, mind open. He let the grief of the forest sink into his core. He felt the memory of fire. Of screaming roots. Of the innocent trampled beneath marching soldiers. And he let it burn inside him.
"I will carry your pain," he said. "And I will use it."
There was a sound — like a deep breath, or perhaps a snarl fading into acceptance.
And then the world pulsed.
Hei Bai vanished.
But not entirely.
In his chest, something new stirred. A seed. A spiritual shard, barely perceptible, but unmistakably foreign — wild, primal, old.
The bond had begun.
Not possession. Not fusion. But marking. Hei Bai had left a piece of himself behind — a challenge, or a test.
Lee collapsed to one knee, trembling from the sheer force of what had just passed through him. Not pain. Power.
The ability to sense fear... was now his.
The shadows of the trees seemed clearer. The voices of lesser spirits now whispered closer. And in the distance, he saw something white flicker between the trees — not threateningly, but like a guardian watching from afar.
He smiled.
"Phase one... complete."
Now, he had the aura of fear. The whispers of the spirit realm. The first taste of real, divine potential.
Next?
He would test this power. Hone it. And begin hunting lesser spirits — ones without purpose, ones who drifted aimlessly in both worlds. With Hei Bai's seed enhancing his presence, absorbing them would be possible. It would be slow. Risky. But with every spirit consumed, he would grow.
The ashes of his origin were behind him.
The storm was coming.
And Ashen Hellflame was just getting started.