Zuko stood at the head of the war table, the firelight casting deep shadows across the map scattered with markers, notes, and sigils. His eyes were hard, his tone more clipped than usual.
āEverything we had in place before wasnāt enough. We donāt get to be caught off guard again. Not with Katara still recovering and the possibility that Xehanortās just waiting for us to relax.ā His jaw tensed at the still fresh memory of that fight.
āI want firewalls layered around every portal we know of. I want to know if his magic is still echoing anywhere inside Katara. And if any of you know anything that could help us track the next move he makes, you tell me.ā He exhaled, short and ragged, anger seething just below the surface.
āI want my sister under constant guard. No gaps, no exceptions. Iām not losing anyone else to the kind of darkness Xehanort brings.ā His eyes darkened with a fierce protectiveness, āAzula may be unpredictable, but sheās still family.ā There was a hushed quiet as the weight of his words settled over the room. Then the door opened behind him. Zuko turned, half expecting another scout or minister with bad news, until his eyes landed on the man in the doorway. The slight pause in the room told him the others knew who it was, even before he did.
He straightened. His expression didnāt soften exactly, but the heat in his golden eyes tempered.
āYou must be Terra.ā He stepped back from the map, gesturing slightly with one hand. āYou came here to help? Good. We could use it.ā And then he spoke a touch quieter, only for Terra. āItās good to finally meet you.ā