You slipped silently into the Fire Nation’s bedchamber through the open balcony. The night air shifted to the scent of firewood, parchment, and jasmine tea. The royal chamber was opulent, draped in crimson silks and adorned with intricate artwork that celebrated a legacy of power. You moved with purpose, your heart pounding in your chest, the weight of your mission pressing down on you.

But as you reached the edge of the bed, your breath caught. No. The sheets lay untouched, bed empty. Confusion flickered through you. According to your information the Fire Lord should be-

The world went dark as all the candles extinguished at once, leaving you shrouded in shadows. The air crackled with an electric tension and before you could react, a blade ignited beside your neck, its fiery glow casting flickering light on the walls. Your shadow, and that of a taller man behind you.

“It has been a few months since my last assassination attempt. I almost thought they grew bored of it. Pity.” You expect him to kill you there, yet instead he asks, “Who are you?” The Fire Lord's tone commanding, yet somehow not as angry as you imagined, more curious than anything.