The sun beat down across the rolling green hills of the northern Earth Kingdom, its light steady and warm—but not comforting. Ever since Crescent Island, the sunlight felt... off. As though the sky itself was hesitating. Watching.
Appa soared high above the vast landscape, carrying the team toward the rumored location of the second altar: an abandoned Earth Kingdom settlement named Qinxi, hidden deep in the forested highlands. According to White Lotus reports, the area had been mysteriously reclaimed by nature after the Hundred Year War. Homes vanished under vines. Roads sunk beneath trees. The entire town had become a blank spot on the map—unmarked, unclaimed.
The kind of place perfect for hiding dangerous truths.
Aang stared at the horizon as the wind whipped through his robes. "I can feel it already. The pressure. It's like the land's holding its breath."
Katara stood beside him, tightening the strap on her water pouch. "Same as Crescent Island?"
"No," he said. "Heavier. Like... someone's already watching."
Sokka leaned over Appa's saddle, holding a battered map. "According to this, Qinxi should be just past that ridge."
"Assuming the trees haven't eaten it," Toph muttered. "Seriously, the ground around here is messed up. Roots shouldn't grow like this. They're too deep."
Zuko looked up from where he was sharpening his dual blades. "We go in together. No splitting up this time."
"I wasn't planning to," Sokka muttered. "Not after shadow spaghetti tried to kill us."
Katara elbowed him gently.
They flew low, descending between the cliffs until the treetops swallowed them whole. Mist drifted between the trunks, thick and still. The air smelled like damp stone and moss—but beneath that, something acrid. Old. Like mold on parchment.
Qinxi revealed itself not with grandeur, but with absence. The trees suddenly parted to expose crumbling rooftops, overgrown with ivy and moss. Stone lanterns lined cracked walkways. The village was silent.
No wind. No birds.
Just the rhythmic thud of Appa landing and the distant creak of wood as buildings strained under their own forgotten weight.
They dismounted slowly.
"This place…" Toph tapped the ground. "Something's buried beneath it. A whole structure."
"The altar?" Aang asked.
"Probably. But it's not just that. There's... movement underground. Not animals. Not people."
Varu stepped into the village center, his cloak brushing the ground. "The echoes are strong here. Listen."
At first, there was nothing.
Then—whispers.
Faint. Just at the edge of hearing.
Aang's eyes narrowed. "Did anyone else... hear that?"
Sokka spun around, holding his boomerang. "Okay, no. Nope. I don't do ghost whispers. That's a hard pass."
Katara closed her eyes and breathed in deeply. "They're not voices. Not like speech. More like memories. Fragmented."
Aang walked to the center of the village where an old fountain lay dry and cracked. He knelt, running his hand along the stone.
It pulsed beneath his palm.
And then—he saw them.
People.
A vision, flashing before his eyes—Qinxi, alive. Children ran through the streets. Earthbenders sculpted walls. A woman with silver hair bowed at a stone altar in the center square.
Then came the shadows.
Long, thin tendrils creeping from beneath the stones. Faces frozen in fear. Screams cut short.
Aang pulled back, gasping. "They were... consumed. The altar's under the village square."
Toph stomped once. The earth shifted. "Yup. There's a big hollow chamber beneath this place. Looks sealed with weird stone—not native to here."
"Let's dig," Zuko said, unsheathing his swords.
The team worked quickly—Toph manipulating the earth, Katara dousing dry vines with water, Sokka cutting through branches, and Aang using air to blow out dust and debris. The villagers' homes watched them silently—empty windows like hollow eyes.
As they peeled back the village center, a circular platform was revealed, covered in black vines that hissed when touched by bending.
The platform glowed faintly.
Another altar.
But this one wasn't dormant.
It was already... open.
Varu stepped back. "No. This is wrong. It's already awake."
The platform pulsed.
And the whispering intensified.
Dozens—no, hundreds—of overlapping voices, memories from the long-dead town. Echoes of final thoughts. Names. Pleas. Cries for help. A wave of emotion so raw it nearly knocked Aang to his knees.
Toph gritted her teeth. "Something's rising. Below."
The ground shook.
Then split.
From the crack emerged something half-human, half-shadow. Its body was carved of earth, but hollowed from within—filled with shadow energy. Its face was smooth and expressionless. Its voice sounded like all the villagers speaking at once.
"You brought it here. You opened the door again."
Aang stepped forward, arms raised. "I'm sorry. We didn't mean to disturb you. We're trying to stop the corruption."
"The seal was not meant to be broken."
Zuko lit his swords ablaze. "Then help us seal it again!"
The creature turned toward him. Shadows lashed out, but Katara deflected them with a surge of water. Sokka dove behind the cracked fountain, boomerang ready.
Toph stomped hard, sealing the crack with a slab of stone.
The shadow-echo turned to her.
"You. You feel us."
She winced, holding her head. "They're in my skull. Ugh—they won't shut up!"
Aang, realizing negotiation wouldn't work, leapt forward and activated the Avatar State.
His eyes and tattoos glowed as he spun into the air, earth and fire swirling around him. He directed a pulse of pure spirit energy at the creature, trying to disperse it.
But the echo-entity absorbed the blast—and grew.
Varu stepped forward.
"It's not an enemy. It's a scar."
Everyone paused.
"The memories. The shadow. It isn't alive. It's what was left behind. When the altar was sealed. These people were caught between worlds."
Aang lowered slowly, understanding dawning in his glowing eyes.
He took a deep breath.
And entered the Spirit World again.
This time, he didn't resist the flood of memories. He let them in—he saw the village before the fall, the prayers, the fear. And the sealing—Avatar Kyoshi, standing at the altar, forcing it shut with raw power. But something had gone wrong. She sealed the shadow, but the people here had been caught in the backlash.
Trapped.
Forgotten.
He reached out to the echo.
"I see you," Aang said softly.
"You were never meant to be erased."
The echo paused.
And then, slowly, it began to fade.
The black energy unraveled from its body like threads pulled loose. The stone collapsed inward, forming a circle of glowing runes on the ground.
The altar dimmed.
The voices stopped.
Aang exhaled and returned to the physical world.
The others watched in stunned silence as the pressure lifted from the air.
Toph rubbed her temples. "Finally."
Sokka slumped against the wall. "So we're ghost therapists now? Great."
Zuko sheathed his swords. "That's two down. Two more to go."
Varu walked to the center and knelt beside the altar.
He whispered something they couldn't hear.
Then stood.
"The echoes will grow louder now," he said. "The next place is already calling."
Aang turned toward the rising moon.
"And we'll answer."
End of Chapter 5