The sea rolled beneath the Fire Nation vessel as it cut through the waves under new command. Zehn stood at the prow, wind tugging at his coat and eyes fixed on the horizon. Behind him, the ten airbenders—his squad from Stormhaven—moved with quiet discipline. Their training had begun only days ago, but loyalty forged through summoning was unbreakable. They didn't just follow orders—they followed belief, bound by something deeper than command.
They'd been at sea for two days when the island appeared—jagged cliffs rising from the water like broken teeth, shrouded in mist. The formation was unnatural, not merely a byproduct of erosion, but like the remains of some titanic creature long since turned to stone. Zehn raised a hand, and the ship slowed, anchoring far enough from the coastline that no sentries could spot them. The island's dense treeline loomed above the cliffs, and the thin columns of smoke that curled into the sky betrayed the presence of fire—and people.
He gathered his squad at the deck's edge.
"No risks," he said. "We don't know what's waiting in those woods. Break into pairs. Quiet gliders only. Sweep the north, east, and west. Avoid detection. Get as close as you can. Report back at sunset. We regroup here, at the ship."
Kiva stepped forward, bow already slung over her shoulder. "And if we're spotted?"
"Don't be." Zehn's tone was sharp, but not unkind. "This isn't a battle yet. It's recon. If they see you, disappear. Make them forget you were even there."
Within minutes, the team launched into the air—six gliders slicing through the sky, their flight silent and swift. Zehn remained aboard the ship, pacing the deck with deliberate steps, the rhythm of waves beneath him echoing the unease building in his chest. He trusted them, but his mind spun with possibilities. Whatever this island held, it had not been marked on any recent charts, and its silence was suspicious in all the wrong ways. Islands like this didn't stay unclaimed by accident.
Hours passed.
By late afternoon, the first pairs returned. Kiva and her partner landed wordlessly on the deck, removing their gliders with disciplined ease.
"South and east are quiet," she reported. "Thick jungle. Animal trails. A few worn paths. But nothing significant. No structures, no sentries. But someone's been there. Fresh burn pits, stripped game. Someone's been hunting recently."
Another pair arrived next. "West side has watchtowers," one of them said. "And tents. Dozens of them. Maybe hundreds. They've built into the landscape, like they've been here a while."
Zehn's jaw tightened. "Population?"
"Hard to say. We didn't get too close, but… hundreds. Maybe five hundred. Armed. They've carved back the trees and built a real settlement—walls, sentries, camps, the works. Organized."
Kiva frowned. "Bandits?"
"Not just bandits," Zehn muttered. "This is a confederation. A haven for the unwanted. That's why no one talks about it. Everyone here fled from something worse—and brought their knives with them. These are survivors. Killers. Mercenaries. Maybe worse."
The final pair returned just before sundown. "Northern ridge overlooks the entire structure. It's defensible, but there's a crack between two cliffs. We could use it. No watchtower has a clear view of the gap. If we move fast, it could be an entry point."
Zehn stepped to the edge of the ship, looking toward the island again. The mist had thickened, turning the bandit fortress into a half-shadowed blur. It looked less like a haven and more like a wound in the world.
"We can't take it head-on. Not yet," he said. "But this place is poison. A root system for raiders and war criminals. And Riko are king didn't send us here to admire the view."
He turned back to his squad.
"Tonight we rest. Tomorrow, we bleed them. We hit their edges. Isolate their leaders. Split them. Shatter them. Let them tear themselves apart in the chaos."
Kiva said nothing—but her hand gripped the hilt of her blade like it had been waiting to be unsheathed.
The others followed suit, nodding silently. Some knelt to check gear. Others stared toward the island, faces expressionless but eyes burning.
Stormhaven didn't send diplomats.
It sent storms.
And Dead Reef was about to drown.