The tent was quiet, lit only by a soft, flickering lantern hanging from the center pole. Snowfall outside whispered against the leather, and the cold nipped through the seams. But inside, Kaiqok sat cross-legged, shirtless, eyes closed, breathing steady.
The golden chakra cloak shimmered faintly around his body—just enough to light the room with a warm amber glow.
He had spent two nights like this now.
Learning.
Listening.
Testing.
The body was different—smaller, younger—but the power humming within him? It was vast. Nearly limitless. The fusion Sage Mode thrummed like a second heart, an ancient force now bonded with his soul. And the chakra cloak? It responded to his thoughts before he could finish them.
Tonight, he aimed to go deeper.
"Okay," he murmured. "Let's try the first full transformation."
He focused.
Images of animals rushed through his mind. A falcon. A panther. A bear. He let them pass until he found one that fit: the wolf. Strong, fast, agile. His favorite.
Golden chakra bloomed around him like fire. It thickened. Solidified.
His form shifted—ears extending, nails sharpening into claws, golden fur taking shape across his limbs, his eyes narrowing into feral slits. He wasn't fully a wolf. He was something between—a boy cloaked in the spirit of one.
He exhaled slowly. The tent flaps rustled as if responding.
Outside, unseen, a pair of spirit creatures—ice-white foxes with glowing blue eyes—watched from the cliffs.
---
The next morning, the tribe gathered in a semi-circle near the village's central fire pit.
Chief Tanraq stood tall and wide-shouldered, arms crossed over his chest as he surveyed the people. Beside him was Senna, his wife—and behind them, a two-year-old girl giggling and flailing as she tried to bend a puddle.
Korra.
Kaiqok watched from the shadows of a raised snowbank, wearing a heavy cloak of his own creation—deep blue on the outside, but lined with fine golden threads that caught the sun. The little girl's laughter caught his ears, and he smiled.
Even this young, her spirit burned like a star. He could feel it.
"Show yourself," a calm voice said beside him.
He didn't flinch. He already sensed her coming.
The old woman from before—Mistress Ayaya, the tribe's spiritual guide.
"You're not hiding from me, boy," she said.
"I wasn't hiding," Kaiqok answered softly. "I was observing."
Ayaya narrowed her eyes. "You walk with the air of someone who has trained for decades."
"Not decades," he said. "But enough lifetimes."
The old woman didn't question it. She simply stepped forward and looked down at Korra. "She will struggle," Ayaya said. "The world will turn against her. You feel it, don't you?"
He nodded. "Like a storm waiting to break."
"You intend to stop it?"
Kaiqok stared out at the girl. "No. I intend to help her survive it."
Ayaya turned and walked away without another word.
---
Later that night, Kaiqok slipped into the hills alone. The tundra stretched out like a blank canvas. Stars blinked above like frozen fireflies. He needed space—somewhere far from watching eyes—to test what truly made him dangerous.
The elemental manipulation.
The second wish.
He took off his cloak, letting the cold kiss his skin. Snow crunched underfoot.
"Let's start with fire."
He raised a hand. A simple flame danced on his palm—bright red-orange.
Now he imagined the flame turning blue. Cold fire.
It obeyed.
Then he pushed further—green fire, black fire, fire that whispered and crackled like lightning. He spun it in a ring, expanded it into a whip, then shaped it into a sword. Not a second of effort.
"Now… something wilder."
He slammed his palms into the snow and imagined a pillar of crystal—sharp, clear, and glowing. It burst upward in seconds.
Wind? He exhaled and summoned a focused vortex so sharp it cut through solid ice.
Lightning? A flick of his fingers summoned tendrils of crackling energy that danced along his arms without harm.
Everything worked.
Everything bent.
Not because he forced it—but because his imagination commanded it.
Suddenly, a howl echoed across the plain.
Kaiqok turned, instincts on alert.
Another howl answered—closer.
Three more shapes emerged from the dark, moving low to the ground. Spirit wolves—massive and white, their forms half-made of mist.
Kaiqok stood tall.
"You want to test me?" he asked aloud.
The wolves growled.
He let the chakra cloak bloom.
Golden light exploded outward, snapping with raw energy. The snow melted in a perfect circle around him. The wolves froze, wary now.
He didn't need to attack.
He simply walked toward them—his golden wolf form beginning to manifest again, larger now, more defined.
The wolves lowered their heads and backed off, whining softly before vanishing into mist.
Kaiqok sighed.
"I'm not here to fight everything that moves," he muttered. "But I will if I have to."
He looked at the horizon. Republic City lay far away, still growing, still chaotic. The events of canon were years off—but time would slip fast.
He had a lot to do before that.
And the world… was already watching him.