The ashes were cold, littering the ground like grey snow.
Sokka sighed, casting his gaze around the ruined house. There was nothing left but the faint smell of smoke and despair. He had been too late once more.
Or perhaps Azula had never been here at all.
As he turned to leave, a faint glint caught his eye. Nestled on the ground amongst the debris was a small golden object.
He bent down, brushing the soot away to find a headpiece in the shape of a writhing flame. It was hers, no doubt about it.
The hunt was on again.
Pursue
Published
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