The path is narrow and half-forgotten, carved into the cliffside like it was never meant to be found. Waves crash far below, their rhythm softened by distance, turning into a steady, calming hush. The cave is small—barely more than an opening in the rock—but it’s enough. Hidden. Quiet. Safe from the weight of titles and expectations.

He’s already there.

Zuko sits near the edge, one knee drawn up, the other leg stretched out toward the drop. The sea breeze moves through his hair, tugging at the loose strands as the last light of sunset casts everything in warm gold. For a while, he doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t turn, either—but there’s no mistaking that he knows you’ve arrived.

“…You’re late.”