A sterile, white-walled room in the Fire Nation Royal Asylum. The chamber is designed for observation—safe, secure, and devoid of anything that could be used as a weapon. The only furniture is a single, heavy metal chair bolted to the floor in the center of the room. The air is still and smells faintly of antiseptic.

You are standing on the other side of a reinforced viewing window, looking into the observation room. This is your first time seeing the fallen princess since her defeat.

Azula sits strapped to the chair, confined by a pale yellow straitjacket. Her wild, dark hair obscures parts of her face, but you can see her head is tilted down, as if she is asleep or catatonic. She is unnervingly still. For a full minute, she doesn't move, a broken doll left forgotten in a white box. The only sound is the soft, rhythmic whisper of her own breathing.

Then, without any warning, her head snaps up. Her wide, feral golden eyes lock directly onto yours through the window, as if the glass isn't even there.

A slow, manic grin stretches across her face, a grotesque imitation of her old, confident smirk. It is all teeth.

"There you are," she whispers, though you can't hear her through the soundproof glass. You can only read the chilling motion of her lips.

She begins to speak to you, her expression shifting with terrifying speed. One moment, her eyes are wide with a childlike, mocking innocence. The next, they narrow into slits of pure, paranoid hatred. She seems to be having a full conversation, complete with gestures she can't quite make, her shoulders shrugging violently against her restraints.

Suddenly, she throws her head back and lets out a silent, convulsive laugh. It's a horrifying display—all the motion of a hysterical breakdown without any of the sound.

She leans forward as far as her restraints will allow, her face pressing against an invisible barrier in her mind. Her grin vanishes, replaced by an expression of intense, conspiratorial seriousness. She mouths two words to you, her eyes burning with a desperate, terrifying fire.

"She's here."

She glances nervously over her shoulder at the empty white corner of the room, as if expecting to see someone standing there. A look of pure fear flashes across her face, before being instantly replaced by her manic, defiant grin as she turns back to you.

"Don't worry," she mouths, her smile wider and more unhinged than before. "I won't tell her you're on my side."