[color=440e62]SUMMER 67 AG FIRE NATION 
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[color=9e0b0f]Asura SAOWON
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it felt like being mocked when I woke up like this—trapped in a body too weak to lift its own head, lungs too small for a full breath, wrapped in cloth like some fragile being. The world around me loomed vast and distorted; every sound was too loud, and each ray of light was too bright. The first few days, indeed, were hazy with helplessness. I couldn't speak, couldn't move, couldn't even blink without the extreme effort.

That wasn't the worst part.

It was the awareness.

I remembered.

My old life: my quiet apartment, the scent of old books, the way rays of light slanted down on the walls in late afternoons. I recalled the dying. That seemed peaceful. No pain came along. It was just the slow fading away, probably akin to sinking into deep water. And then...this.

Reborn.

My parents, Jinzuk and Rina, treated me like something precious. My mother would hold me with steady hands, though there was always some tension in her grip for she seemed afraid I might slip through her fingers. My father was different. Not cold, but... watchful. There was something in his eyes when he looked at me. Something heavy. Recognition? Fear? Guilt? I couldn't yet say.

Then came Ursa.

My sister. Three years my senior, eyes as sharp as her wit. She would talk to me as if I comprehended all her words, and perhaps I did. I feel as though she sensed something weirdly wrong. She studied me too intently. When our parents were away, she would sit next to my crib whispering stories--not for comfort, I think, but to gauge me. To see if I would respond like a normal infant.

I was careful not to give away too much.

No one said it aloud, but I could almost feel that iamb: an unwritten rule. Stay quiet. Do not stand out.

Until, finally, at six months, it happened.

I wasn’t doing anything. I wasn’t angry. I wasn’t frightened. I was just overwhelmed. From the heat, social noises, and thick smoke of incense, I was just too much with it. My heart moaned and I felt tingly. Something coiled within me and rumbled up my throat like a living thing.

And then—fire. 

Never had I seen such fire.

Not red. Not orange.

Black.

Thick, dark flames gushed from my mouth, the sound reminiscent of oil sizzling in a forge. The air shimmered with heat, but the fire was all wrong: it was too dense and heavy, like liquid shadow taking physical form.

The room fell still.

Ursa did not scream. She simply stared, her eyes wide and unblinking. 

My father retreated a step, paling in complexion. Not at shock genuine recognition. As if he'd heard of this before. 

My mother fell onto her knees, pressing me to her chest; but this was not the gentle embrace from before. This was panic. This was fright they never spoke of it but something changed after it had the house grew quieter. Fewer visitors. More whispers. I caught glimpses of men in dark robes-Fire Sages, maybe-coming and going when they thought I was asleep. Their voices were low, urgent.

[i]
Unusual... 
The legacy... 
Dangerous... 
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I didn't understand. Not entirely.

Was this some quirk of reincarnation? A side effect of my soul being shoved into a new body? Or was it something deeper—something tied to this family bloodline?