Avatar: The Rise of Kyoshi (The Kyoshi Novels, #1)

by F.C. Yee

Earth Avatars were traditionally identified by directional geomancy, a series of rituals designed to winnow through the largest and most populous of the Four Nations as efficiently as possible.

“What you do when no one is guiding you determines who you are,” Hei-Ran said. The motto was probably engraved over a door somewhere in the Fire Academy. “The results of your training are far less important than your attitude toward training.”

An overdressed merchant from Omashu haggled with a Fire Nation procurement officer over cabbage futures, ignoring the cherry blossom petals falling into their tea.

About the only things Kyoshi hated more than gunk on her skin were the warped, infuriating values that older folks like Auntie Mui held around complexion. It was yet another contradiction of the village, that you should make an honest living toiling under the sun but never in the slightest look like it. In the game of rural Yokoyan beauty standards, Kyoshi had lost that particular round. Among others.

There’d be time enough in the future for traveling with Kelsang.

“Avatar Kyoshi” would simply be dirt kicked over the fire.

Inside were two ornate metal war fans the color of gold alloyed with bronze. The weapons were packed in a softer wood frame that held them open while protecting them from rough treatment like the sort she’d just doled out.

A headdress made out of the same material rested in between them. It complemented the fans by mounting smaller versions of them on a band, forming a semicircular crest at the forehead.

Lastly, there was a plain leather pouch with a case that she knew contained m...

“Nope!” Kirima said, regretting she’d asked. “Gonna cut you off right there. The last time I listened to a Firebender talk about ‘honor’ my ears nearly rotted off my skull. Had to kick him out of my bed with both feet.”

“When the Law gives you nothing to eat, you turn to the Code. Then at least you can feast on your pride.”

“Never wait to find out what the trouble is,” Wong said, already jogging away from the source. “By then, you’re already too close.”

After a hundred years had passed,

One interpretation of that particular saying is that you cannot be bound by petty concerns on your personal journey. You must walk with a singular purpose. The judgment of others, no matter how horrific or criminal they label your actions, must hold no meaning to you.”

“My dear,” Lao Ge said softly. “As you’ll discover one day, the mind has specters of its own.”

They look at themselves like forces of nature, as inevitable ends, but they’re not. Their depth is as false as the shoals at low tide. They twist the meaning of justice to absolve themselves of conscience.

They’re humans like us, made of skin and guts and pain. They need to be reminded of that fact.

“There is always someone who stands above you in judgment.”

“What will you do now?” she said. “Knowing that your every step will have consequences?”

“Oh no, my dear girl. It’ll never get easier. If you had a strict rule, maybe, to always show mercy or always punish, you could use it as a shield to protect your spirit. But that would be distancing yourself from your duty.

“You will never be perfectly fair, and you will never be truly correct,”

“That’s where you’re wrong. The illusion that the self is separate from the rest of the world is the driving factor that limits our potential. Once you realize there’s nothing special about the self, it becomes easier to manipulate.”

“I’m, um, referring to a different ‘we.’”