Chapter 30: Failures of the Legend
The late-autumn sun hovered low over the distant ridges, casting long shadows through the wind-swept courtyard of the temple. Crisp air moved between the stone walls, not cold yet, but touched with that dry stillness that always came before the first true frost.
Yoan was knee-deep in the last row of garden beds, his sleeves rolled up, dirt caked beneath his fingernails. The harvest had mostly ended two weeks ago, the final roots pulled and stored, the grains dried and bundled in the granaries below. Now came the preparation, the quiet, necessary work of turning the earth and removing what remained, to ready the plots for spring's return after the short southern winter passed.
He dug the shovel into the dry soil, twisting it to expose the wiry threads of old yam roots. The scent of loam and mulch clung to him, grounding him more than any meditation ever had.
A soft crunch of footsteps on stone made him pause.
He didn't need to look up.
"I thought you said you were going to work on the firewood stack today," he said, his tone neutral.
Kaiya's voice came after a pause, hesitant but not brittle. "They finished it without me. I thought you might need help out here."
He didn't answer right away. Just drove the shovel into the ground again.
She stepped closer, the sound of her sandals brushing through the garden's straw borders. When she came into view, he stole a glance up.
She was no longer the skeletal figure he had been lying in that mountain cot two weeks ago, skin stretched too tight across her face, eyes hollowed. She had gained some weight back, not much, but enough to put some shape in her cheeks again. Her black hair was tied in a low, neat knot, and she wore simple robes, the sleeves rolled up like his.
She didn't look whole.
But she looked alive.
"Here," she said softly, kneeling beside the spare basket and reaching for a nearby root cluster with both hands.
Yoan watched her move, her fingers steady, her shoulders squared. Her hands were still calloused. Still marked with the lines of bending, though she hadn't used wind once since they brought her back.
For a while, they worked in silence. Only the wind spoke, sweeping across the mountain slopes, tugging at the garden banners with long, fluttering sighs.
Eventually, Kaiya spoke again.
"You don't look at me the same way anymore."
He didn't look up. "What do you mean?"
"You used to look at me like I was a thief," she said, brushing dirt from a carrot bulb. "Now it's like I'm a stranger you were told stories about. Like you're not sure what's real."
Yoan let out a breath and sat back on his heels, wiping sweat from his brow.
"I'm not sure," he admitted.
Kaiya nodded, looking down. "That's fair."
They fell into silence again. A pair of sparrows danced between the fence posts beyond the garden, pecking at seed husks. Somewhere in the distance, temple bells rang for the third hour past midday.
Kaiya finally asked, "Do you still hate me?"
He didn't answer at once.
"I don't think so," Yoan said slowly. "I did. When Yogan left. When everything came crashing down. I hated you for choosing Kezin. For lying. For betraying us."
He paused.
"But hate is… exhausting. It takes more out of you than the person you aim it at. After a while, I just stopped carrying it."
Her hands stilled. "Then what do you carry now?"
He didn't meet her eyes. "Regret, maybe. Disappointment. Questions I stopped asking."
"I still think about it," Kaiya said. "What I did. How I ended up where I did. I don't have good answers. Just… fear. And shame."
Yoan finally looked at her.
"You've changed," he said. "You're not hiding anymore."
She gave a tired smile. "There's nothing left to hide."
He watched her for a moment longer, then reached into the earth again, pulling out another root.
"You're working hard," he said.
Kaiya blinked. "That's… new."
"What?"
"You acknowledging I'm doing something right."
Yoan smirked faintly. "Don't get used to it."
She gave a light laugh. It wasn't bright, but it was real.
"Yogan would be proud of you," she said after a beat. "You've kept everything together. The others talk about you like a real leader."
He shrugged. "I'm just trying to hold things steady until someone better shows up."
Kaiya tilted her head. "You don't give yourself enough credit."
"I give myself just enough," Yoan said.
He stood, brushing the dirt from his knees.
"You want to finish up the west plot? I need to check on the compost bins before sunset."
Kaiya nodded and took his place as he stepped away. He hesitated before leaving, then turned back.
"By the way," he said, his tone softer, "you don't look like a ghost anymore."
Her eyes widened a little.
"You're starting to look like you again," he added.
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
He didn't wait for a response. Just turned and walked toward the far edge of the garden, where the stone bins sat under the open sun.
Kaiya remained kneeling in the dirt, her fingers curled around the roots, not pulling yet. Her throat tightened with something between gratitude and grief.
She turned her head to where he'd disappeared around the hedgerow and whispered, "Thank you."
Above her, the sky was a clean blue, and the wind was kind.
Yoan returned with a wooden bucket of mulch, and Kaiya had almost finished clearing the west plot. They worked quietly side by side, not speaking much but more comfortable in the silence now. The sun had shifted lower behind the temple roofs, casting long golden streaks across the flagstones. The wind moved gently through the prayer chimes above the courtyard, a low, melodic hum vibrating between the rafters.
Kaiya paused, brushing dirt from her sleeves. "Do you think there'll be enough time to turn the soil before the cold sets in?"
"Just barely," Yoan replied, scooping a pile of mulch into the loosened soil. "As long as we don't get lazy."
She offered a tired smile, her hair falling forward slightly as she leaned to rake the compost in.
Then, a voice, graceful and calm, yet somehow carrying across the courtyard like it had always belonged there.
"I suppose that means I shouldn't be catching either of you slacking."
They both froze.
Kaiya turned first, eyes wide.
Yoan rose to his feet slowly, his breath caught halfway in his chest.
Standing in the garden archway, framed by light and shadow, was Monk Nara.
Her robes matched the traditional style of the monks, deep ochre over a softer amber, layered and draped with effortless grace. A pendant hung at her throat, dark and circular, carved with swirling sky patterns. The long folds of her robe shifted lightly in the wind, revealing firm legs beneath the draping fabric, and her posture held the same precise elegance she'd always possessed.
But her hair, that was simply splended.
Long, flowing, and impossibly white, like moonlight woven into silk. It fell past her shoulders in thick locks, partly braided back in the style of high-ranking elders. And across her forehead, glowing faintly in the sunlight, was the unmistakable airbender arrow tattoo, leading back across her scalp where it disappeared under her hair.
Her body was more filled out than they remembered, her figure more mature, her chest fuller beneath the layers of her robe, and yet there was nothing indulgent about her presence. She was strength carved in calm. A living contradiction of serene beauty and overwhelming force.
Yoan's face broke into a grin before he could stop himself.
"Master Nara!" he called.
He dropped the rake and crossed the garden quickly, arms open.
She met him halfway, embracing him briefly — firmly.
"Yoan," she said softly. "Still allergic to shirts, I see."
He laughed. "Only when I'm in the dirt."
Kaiya stood awkwardly behind, brushing her palms against her robes. Her heart beat strangely fast in her chest.
Monk Nara turned to her, smiling gently. "Kaiya."
Kaiya lowered her eyes. "Master Nara..."
"No need to bow," the elder woman said, stepping closer. "Let bygones be bygones. Yogan forgave you a long time ago. I believe it's time you did the same for yourself."
Kaiya looked up, blinking. She had expected judgment. Or worse, indifference.
Instead, she found warmth.
"Thank you," she whispered.
Yoan stepped back, still beaming. "When did you return to the temple?"
"Just an hour ago," Nara said, stepping into the garden fully. "I didn't want to cause a stir."
"Where's Yogan?" he asked quickly. "Is he with you?"
Nara's expression softened. She glanced at the wind fluttering through the vines along the far wall.
"I haven't seen Yogan for nearly two weeks."
Yoan blinked. "Wait... what?"
"I had to let him go," she said quietly. "He has a journey that must be walked alone. I couldn't follow him without becoming a crutch. He needs to face the world. The weight of it. And decide what he's going to be."
The silence that followed was heavy, but not hopeless.
Kaiya looked down again. "I... I thought he'd be back by now."
"He will return," Nara said. "But not as the boy who left."
Yoan ran a hand through his sweat-matted hair. "So what now? We just wait?"
Nara shook her head, smiling gently. "You live. You train. You prepare. He has his path. But so do you."
She turned and walked toward the edge of the garden, brushing her hand across a row of sun-dried vines.
"You've both grown," she said. "It's good to see the temple breathing again."
Then she turned back to them, her silver hair catching the light like a comet's tail.
"Now tell me, how have you two been managing without burning the place down?"
Yoan chuckled. "Barely. I've been working double shifts. And Kaiya here's started pulling her weight."
"I... I'm doing better," Kaiya admitted. "Trying to be useful."
"You're more than that," Nara said, with a faint nod. "The fact that you're still here proves it."
For the first time, Kaiya allowed herself a small smile.
The three of them stood together in the sun-washed garden — two younger souls still finding their place, and one master who had walked far enough ahead to know that time and pain were part of the same journey.
And far beyond them, across the ocean and the forests and the fire-scarred ruins of Daiyo, another wind was rising, the kind that changed destinies.
The sun had dipped lower still, gilding the temple rooftops in honeyed light. The garden was nearly finished for the day. Kaiya had bundled the last of the roots into their baskets while Yoan rinsed the tools near the stone basin at the garden's edge.
Monk Nara remained seated on a low bench beneath the hanging windchimes, her silver hair catching the light like strands of polished silk. Her presence had softened the air around them, a reminder of gentleness wrapped in absolute mastery.
Then came the sharp, measured cadence of footsteps against stone. Clack. Clack. Clack.
The sound of a carved wooden staff. Worn smooth by time and travel.
Yoan grinned before he even turned around. "And there he is."
From the shadow of the hallway archway emerged a tall, weathered man in robes nearly identical to Nara's. His bald head gleamed under the late sun, and his airbending tattoos pulsed faintly with the movement of breath. His beard, once as black as storm clouds, was now completely white, grown full down to his chest and tied neatly with a brass ring.
Monk Tenzon.
An elder of the temple, a master airbender of great renown, and one of the few left who remembered Kaijo in his prime. Tenzon was nearly twice Nara's age — and looked every year of it. His skin, unlike her still-youthful smoothness, was lined and puckered like a tired old turtle-duck's shell, every wrinkle a map of experience etched across his face.
He came to a halt, blinking at the trio gathered in the garden.
"Nara?" he said, as if questioning the apparition before him.
"Hello, Tenzon," she replied warmly, not standing. "You're looking spry. Found another heirloom carrot to argue with?"
He huffed. "I'll have you know that heirloom carrots are essential to the soil's balance."
Then his composure broke. He hurried toward her, staff tapping the stone, and stopped just short.
"When did you return? Why didn't anyone announce your arrival? Did you go to the High Shrine first? Have you reported to Elder Kaijo? And what of the other monks…"
"Tenzon," Nara interrupted, holding up a hand, "do you want me to answer any of those questions, or should I let your beard keep asking them for you?"
He scowled, but the corners of his mouth twitched upward.
Yoan stifled a laugh.
"I arrived not long ago," Nara continued. "Didn't want fanfare. No, I haven't seen Kaijo yet. Yes, I came through the shrine, and yes, the southern monks are fine."
"And Yogan?" he asked more seriously now. "Is he here with you?"
"No."
That stopped him cold.
"Not with you? I thought, after what happened in Tamai and then Daiyo…"
"I haven't seen him in two weeks," she said. "He's traveling."
"You let him go? Alone?" Tenzon's brows drew together, the air around him stirring faintly.
"I didn't let him go," she corrected gently. "I gave him the space to choose."
"He's only nineteen!" Tenzon snapped. "The world will tear him apart!"
"Then he'll tear back," Nara said simply.
Tenzon began to pace, muttering under his breath. "You always did have an odd philosophy about growth. 'Let them stumble,' you said. 'Let them learn by falling.'"
"It worked for me," she replied, rising finally. She stood nearly eye to eye with him, despite his age and stature. "And it will work for him."
He stopped, squinting at her. "You always were too free-spirited for an elder."
"And yet, here I am. Youngest on the council and still getting scolded by someone who smells like fermented incense."
Kaiya chuckled, then covered her mouth quickly.
Tenzon turned on her with mock sternness. "I saw that."
"Apologies, elder," she said, not quite suppressing the smile.
Yoan stepped forward. "Master, if I may… Yogan isn't exactly helpless. He's different now."
Tenzon nodded, his expression softening. "That boy was always headstrong, but I'll admit… he surprised me. Even Kaijo's patience is being tested."
"Good," Nara said. "Maybe it's time patience got a little uncomfortable."
He narrowed his eyes at her. "You're impossible."
"And you're predictable," she returned, already turning toward the inner hall. "Let's go meet the council. I'll tell you everything on the way."
Kaiya and Yoan watched the two elders walk toward the temple side by side, one a living monument to tradition, the other a windstorm in human form, shaped by travel and instinct.
Between them, the next generation of airbenders quietly resumed their duties. But all of them knew, in the way wind knows the turning of a season, that something was coming.
And somewhere far from them, the boy they spoke of walked paths even they could not yet see.
Monk Tenzon and Monk Nara walked through the long central corridor of the temple, her white-silver hair swaying lightly behind her, the ochre robes brushing against her boots with each step. The wind crept in through the open skylights above, stirring banners carved with the names of past masters. The golden glow of late afternoon filtered down from above, casting slanted beams across the smooth, polished stone floor.
Beside her, Monk Tenzon walked with slightly more weight to his step, his carved staff tapping steadily with every other stride. His bald head gleamed softly in the light, his expression unreadable beneath the tangled silver beard that had been twisted into a formal knot with a bronze loop. His age showed in his skin, creased, worn, and wrinkled like the hide of an old badgermole, but his gait was steady, and the strength in his presence was undeniable.
As they passed under the second archway, children darted past, laughing as they chased one another around the pillars. Nara turned slightly and reached down to ruffle the hair of a boy no older than eight. He beamed at her before continuing his run.
A pair of young teens stood nearby, watching with wide eyes. Both were nearing the final stage of their training, their heads shaved in preparation for the ceremonial tattoos to come. One of them bowed low at the waist.
"Master Nara, welcome home," the taller one said.
Nara returned the bow with a warm smile. "You've grown since I left. I expect to see your tattoos soon."
"I've been training hard," he said with visible pride.
"Good. The wind remembers those who earn it."
The second teen, a girl with narrow eyes and a determined jawline, approached more hesitantly. "Master… do you think you'll stay long this time?"
Nara placed a hand on the girl's shoulder. "As long as I'm needed. Then the wind will carry me again."
As they turned the corner, a group of monks with tattoos already gracing their foreheads and arms bowed in greeting. One of them, a wiry man named Lian, nodded respectfully.
"Master Nara. It is good to have you among us again."
"Lian," Nara greeted with a nod. "Still forgetting to wash your robes after meditation?"
Lian grinned sheepishly. "Caught again."
"You'll never catch her," another muttered.
They passed further into the corridor, and Nara greeted two more monks, this time elders from the herb gardens, both of whom bowed low and offered her sprigs of dried tea herbs.
"May your breath carry far, and your path remain steady," said the first.
"And may your feet remember where home lies," added the second.
"Thank you both," Nara said with a bow, accepting the herbs.
As they left the last hall and reached the carved entrance of the Great Chamber, Tenzon exhaled through his nose.
"You get too close to them."
She glanced sideways at him. "They're airbenders. They're people. Why shouldn't I be close to them?"
"They'll stop respecting you," he muttered. "Too much familiarity. Too little formality."
"They still respect me more than they do you."
"They might like you more. That's different."
"Is it?" she asked, stepping through the carved doorway. "I find it comforting. They're comfortable with me, the way I was with my master."
Tenzon arched a snowy brow. "Kaijo?"
Nara's eyes shifted slightly. "No. Wan."
He stopped in place.
"That crazy old fool who couldn't." Tenzon said.
"You shouldn't speak of him like that."
"I speak the truth," he replied. "He was a madman. A chaotic, rule-breaking, stubborn fool who danced with danger every day he breathed."
Nara's voice dropped lower. "He was also the man who brought balance to the world."
"And I will never forget it," Nara said, her voice suddenly solemn. "But think of what more he could've done, if he had been just a little more competent."
Nara scoffed, stepping in line with him again. "His failures weren't from incompetence. They were from too much freedom. Too much heart. You always admired that about him." Her steps slowed. "You weren't there, Tenzon. I was. I traveled with him. I saw the things he saw. Things that would have broken most of the council, even Kaijo. He survived them because he didn't try to shoulder it all with solemn pride. He laughed. He joked. He misbehaved. That's how he lasted as long as he did."
Tenzon walked in silence for several paces. Then: "When was the last time you saw the firebenders?"
She glanced up toward the skylights. "Ten years ago. They didn't want to see me. I reminded them too much of him."
"Maybe that's why so few of them come south anymore. Since Wan died, they've kept to themselves. Like the world was too dangerous without him."
"In my travels, I've met only two firebenders in the past four years. Rarer even than rogue airbenders."
Tenzon sighed. "Rogue airbenders not from the temple or the original clans are rare, too. We have Wan to thank for that."
"No one's perfect," Nara said, stepping into the great circular chamber.
Within the stone hall, seven elders sat in a ring beneath the open dome. Light streamed down from above, catching the faint swirl of incense smoke curling near the central flame.
Monk Kaijo, oldest of the elders, sat with his eyes half-closed, long robes pooled around him. The others turned as Nara entered, some with mild smiles, others with wrinkled frowns.
Nara stepped forward and bowed deeply.
"I have returned from my travels."
Kaijo opened his eyes fully. "We had heard rumors."
Tenzon took a seat along the outer circle.
One of the other elders, a thin man named Elder Goro, frowned. "And what of the boy? Yogan?"
Nara raised her head. "He is not with me."
Murmurs passed through the council.
"You left him?" Elder Sima, a broad-shouldered woman with a staff laid across her lap, asked. "After everything that's happened?"
"He is walking his own path," Nara said. "I took him as far as I could."
Elder Yushi leaned forward. "A prodigy airbender. And now a waterbender. And you release him into the world alone?"
"I didn't release him," Nara said. "I let him go. There's a difference."
"You trained him. You're responsible for him."
"Was anyone responsible for him when he was running wild through the temple?" she shot back. "None of you took him seriously until he survived Tamai and leveled half a city."
Silence fell.
Kaijo remained still.
She continued. "I remember how you all spoke of him. As a failure. A trickster. A waste of potential. And now he bends two elements and you speak of responsibility?"
The elders looked toward Kaijo.
The old master opened his eyes again. "You did what you thought was right."
He let the words hang.
"Only time will tell if it was the real right thing."
"Elder," Nara said, stepping closer, "he's not just any airbender anymore. You've heard the rumors. In Tamai, he bent water. In Daiyo, he stood against someone the people fear to even name. Like Wan before him, Yogan must see the world."
"You are not wrong," Kaijo said. "But times are not the same. The coup led by his own brother tells us change is already coming. Spirits and warlords stir again. In these times, Yogan must remember who he is."
"He is not Wan," she said firmly.
"No. But he carries the same seed," Kaijo said, leaning forward now. "And I too walked with Wan, child. I was his master, as he was yours, and you are Yogan's. In the end, Wan could not choose. And it destroyed him."
Nara's voice softened. "We don't even know if Yogan will bend more than two elements."
"Then time will decide," Kaijo said. "But you must accept that what he becomes, good or ill, is now outside our guidance. You let him go. Now we see what grows."
She bowed her head.
"I understand, Elder. And I am prepared."
And with that, the wind turned again, this time within the temple walls.
[A/N: Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]