The Second Avatar

Chapter 7: Trailing the Bandit

The sun hung low in the sky, casting a warm, golden hue over the town of Tamai as Yogan and the twins made their way back from the training fields. The narrow dirt path wound through rows of houses with tiled roofs, their wooden walls adorned with wind chimes that tinkled softly in the breeze. Merchants called out from stalls lining the street, their voices a cacophony of invitations to buy freshly baked pastries, dried fruits, and handmade trinkets.

The air was alive with the scents of roasted chestnuts and spiced tea, blending with the faint tang of the sea breeze. Townsfolk bustled about, their faces animated with the chatter of daily life. Yogan's gaze drifted over the scene, his expression calm but inwardly pensive. Every step closer to the inn tightened the knot of worry in his chest.

"Do you think she's back by now?" Kail asked, skipping to keep up with Yogan's longer strides.

"I hope so," Yogan replied, his tone neutral but laced with concern. "If she isn't, we'll need to start searching."

"Searching for Monk Nara?" Riko piped up, his voice tinged with disbelief. "You really think she needs help?"

Yogan glanced at the boy, his dark eyes briefly softening. "Even the strongest can find themselves in danger. Especially when they face threats we don't understand."

As they turned onto the main street, the Golden Lotus Inn came into view. The building was a modest but sturdy structure, its wooden exterior painted in earthy tones. Lanterns hung from its eaves, their gentle glow promising warmth and comfort. The sound of laughter and clinking mugs spilled out through the open windows, mingling with the hum of the town.

---

Inside the Golden Lotus, the atmosphere was lively yet intimate. Travelers and locals gathered at the tables, sharing tales over steaming bowls of stew and frothy mugs of ale. The warm light of the hearth danced on the walls, casting long shadows that flickered like playful spirits. Behind the counter stood Jian Lu, the innkeeper, his broad shoulders bent as he wiped a glass with a cloth. His sharp eyes flicked up as the door creaked open.

"Yogan," he greeted, setting the glass down with a practiced smile. "And the twins. Back from training already?"

Yogan stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room. "She hasn't returned, has she?"

The smile faltered on Jian Lu's face, replaced by a furrow of concern. "You're talking about Monk Nara?"

"Yes." Yogan approached the bar, his tone urgent. "You haven't seen her since this morning?"

Jian Lu shook his head slowly. "Not a glimpse. I thought she might've gone with you."

Yogan's fingers gripped the edge of the counter, his knuckles whitening. "She wouldn't leave without telling me. Not without a reason."

The innkeeper leaned forward, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're worried something's happened to her."

Yogan nodded, his jaw tightening. "She's too disciplined to just disappear."

Jian Lu straightened, his brow furrowing in thought. "If that's the case, maybe it's time we get some help. The town chief might be able to spare a few men. They know the area better than anyone."

Yogan hesitated, the weight of responsibility pressing down on him. Finally, he gave a curt nod. "You're right. I can't do this alone."

"I'll go speak to the chief," Jian Lu said, already untying his apron. "Stay here, have a drink. You'll need your strength if you're planning to search."

"Thank you, Jian Lu," Yogan said, his voice sincere.

---

As the innkeeper disappeared into the back room, Yogan took a seat at the bar. The polished wood was cool beneath his hands, grounding him as he tried to quiet his racing thoughts. A barmaid approached, her warm smile a small comfort amidst his worry.

"What can I get you?" she asked.

"Just tea," Yogan replied. "Something to clear my head."

She returned moments later with a steaming cup of jasmine tea, its floral aroma filling the air. Yogan cradled the cup in his hands, the warmth seeping into his skin as he stared into the amber liquid. The voices around him faded into the background, replaced by the echo of Nara's teachings in his mind.

"Control is strength," she had often said. "And strength is balance."

But how could he find balance when the person who had taught him everything seemed to have vanished without a trace?

Kail and Riko joined him at the bar, their earlier enthusiasm replaced by quiet concern. "Do you think she's okay?" Kail asked, his voice small.

Yogan took a sip of tea, letting the warmth calm his frayed nerves. "I hope so," he said, his voice steady. "But if she isn't, we'll find her. No matter what it takes."

The twins exchanged a glance, their youthful optimism tempered by the seriousness in Yogan's tone. They didn't say anything more, but their presence was a quiet reassurance.

As the minutes ticked by, Yogan's mind churned with possibilities, each one darker than the last. But he forced himself to focus on the present, to trust that help was on the way. For now, all he could do was wait.

And hope.

The soft clink of porcelain on wood echoed faintly as Yogan set his empty teacup down. The warmth of the jasmine tea lingered, though it did little to dispel the cold knot in his chest. He stood, the stool creaking slightly under the shift of weight, and glanced toward the doorway Jian Lu had disappeared through. No word yet from the town chief.

Patience, he told himself, though his heart felt far from steady. He couldn't simply sit and wait while unease gnawed at him like an insistent whisper. Sliding his hands into his sleeves, Yogan stepped out of the tavern and into the bustling streets of Tamai.

The afternoon sun bathed the town in a soft golden light, casting long shadows across the cobblestone streets. Vendors called out from their stalls, peddling everything from fragrant herbs to hand-carved trinkets. Children darted between the legs of townsfolk, their laughter blending with the murmur of conversation and the occasional bark of a stray dog. It was a picture of peace and simplicity, so removed from the weight Yogan carried within him.

He walked without purpose at first, his feet tracing the familiar paths through town. The wind carried the scent of fresh bread and blooming jasmine, tugging gently at his robes. It was almost enough to lull his restless thoughts, but not quite.

Yogan's mind drifted, unbidden, to Monk Nara. Her absence was a void that pressed on him from all sides, not just because she was his master and mentor but because of what she meant to him personally. He inhaled deeply, his chest tight as he tried to untangle the web of emotions that threatened to ensnare him.

She was so much more than the elder of the temple. Her wisdom, her discipline, her strength—those were things he had admired since the day he became her pupil. But it wasn't admiration alone that kept her in his thoughts. It was the softness in her gaze during moments of quiet, the way she spoke his name with a gentleness that made him feel less alone in the vast, unyielding role he had been given.

He stopped beside a vendor selling colorful strings of prayer flags, his eyes drifting over the bright swaths of fabric fluttering in the breeze. Was it wrong, he wondered, to see her as more than his master? To feel this pull, this yearning, for someone who had dedicated her life to the path of detachment and balance?

And yet, how could he not? She was a beacon in his tumultuous world, a constant when everything else felt impossibly vast and uncertain. But that was the problem, wasn't it? She wasn't just Monk Nara. She was the elder of the temple, the strongest airbender alive, and his teacher. To see her as anything else felt selfish, like a betrayal of the bond they shared.

Yogan sighed and continued walking, his footsteps echoing faintly on the cobblestones. The town was lively around him, but he felt adrift, his thoughts pulling him further inward.

Raava's words in the swamp came back to him, a memory as vivid as the day it had happened.

"You are Wan's reincarnation, Yogan. His legacy lives within you, but so does his burden. Yours is a destiny far greater than any before you."

Greater than any before him. The words weighed heavy, like a millstone around his neck. How could he be worthy of such a destiny when he struggled to even understand it? Wan had united humans and spirits, bringing balance to a fractured world. What was Yogan, compared to that? A boy with more questions than answers. A vessel struggling to contain the spirit that chose him.

He clenched his fists beneath his sleeves. He didn't want to fail—not Raava, not the world, and certainly not Nara. But the doubts lingered, gnawing at the edges of his resolve. Was he strong enough? Wise enough? Could he ever live up to what was expected of him?

I need her now more than ever, he thought. Not just as my master, but as… as something more.

The thought struck him like a blow, leaving him momentarily breathless. He shook his head, as though trying to dislodge the unwelcome truth, and quickened his pace.

As he rounded a corner near the town square, something caught his attention—a figure standing at a vendor's stall, their posture casual yet somehow familiar. The man's back was to him, but there was no mistaking the hunched shoulders, the wiry frame, or the distinctive tattoo snaking up his forearm.

Yogan's breath caught, his pulse quickening. It couldn't be.

The man handed a few coins to the vendor, accepting a bag of roasted chestnuts in return. He turned slightly, just enough for Yogan to catch a glimpse of his face. Recognition hit him like a thunderclap.

It was one of the bandits who had attacked the air temple weeks ago—a raid orchestrated with precision and cruelty. Yogan's mind raced, memories flooding back unbidden. The chaos of that day, the screams of the initiates, the acrid smell of smoke as the temple's sacred halls were desecrated. And Kezin's voice, cold and mocking, echoed in his thoughts:

"Did you think I'd fight you alone? No, Yogan. I've hired professionals for this. Tools to help keep you busy."

This man had been one of those "professionals." Yogan remembered the way he had moved during the raid—swift, ruthless, unrelenting. His presence here couldn't be a coincidence.

Yogan's eyes narrowed, his body tensing as he watched the man take a leisurely bite of a chestnut, utterly unaware of the storm brewing behind him.

The weight of his doubts and emotions faded into the background, replaced by a singular, burning focus. Answers. This man had them, and Yogan intended to get them.

But first, he had to decide how to approach.

Yogan's heart pounded as he ducked behind a vendor's stall, his gaze fixed on the man standing by the snack cart. The bandit's demeanor was casual, but there was something about his movements—deliberate, calculated—that put Yogan on edge. From his vantage point, he could see the man exchanging more than pleasantries with the vendor. A quick glance confirmed Yogan's suspicions: the man was ordering in bulk.

The vendor handed over multiple sacks of provisions—bread, dried meats, and roasted chestnuts—all of which the man loaded onto a waiting carriage. The vehicle was drawn by a pair of onyx-mane elkhorses, a striking fusion of horses and elk. Their glossy black coats shimmered in the sunlight, and their antlers curved elegantly above their heads, adding an imposing majesty to their already powerful build.

Yogan's breath hitched as the man handed over payment. The glint of gold caught his eye, and he froze. Those coins—he knew them. They weren't just ordinary currency; they were the exact kind of gold coins Monk Nara carried for emergencies. His stomach churned at the realization. If this man had Nara's money, then her disappearance was no coincidence.

The bandit didn't stop at the snack cart. Yogan trailed him through the marketplace, keeping his distance while slipping between stalls and blending with the crowd. The man moved with purpose, stopping at various shops and vendors. First, he visited a blacksmith, where he purchased an assortment of weapons—swords, daggers, and several bundles of arrows. Yogan ducked behind a stack of barrels as the bandit tested the weight of a short sword, slicing it experimentally through the air before nodding his approval.

The weapons were loaded onto the carriage, and the man moved on to another vendor, this time buying crates of supplies—canvas tarps, ropes, and small clay pots that Yogan guessed contained oil. His movements were methodical, his tone brisk as he barked orders to the vendors. Every purchase, every exchange only solidified Yogan's suspicion: this wasn't a simple shopping trip. This man was preparing for something—something big.

Yogan's eyes narrowed as the bandit pulled out another handful of gold coins to pay. The sight stung, a sharp reminder of Nara's absence. His jaw tightened. He couldn't afford to let this man out of his sight.

By the time the bandit climbed onto the driver's seat of the carriage, the sun had begun its slow descent, casting the town in a warm, amber glow. Yogan pressed himself against the wall of a nearby building, watching as the carriage creaked forward, the elkhorses pulling it effortlessly. He waited until the vehicle had rounded a corner before slipping into the shadows, keeping a careful distance.

The bandit made his way toward the town's gates, stopping briefly to exchange a few words with the guards. Yogan felt a pang of unease as he overheard snippets of their conversation.

"Heading back to the woods again?" one of the guards asked, his tone casual.

"Got some hungry mouths to feed," the bandit replied with a grin, slapping one of the sacks of provisions.

The guard chuckled. "Just don't bring any trouble back with you."

"No promises," the man said, his grin widening before snapping the reins. The carriage rolled out of the gates, the sound of the elkhorses' hooves fading into the distance.

Yogan slipped past the guards, keeping low and quiet as he followed the trail. His heart raced, not just from the risk of being seen but from the growing certainty of what he was walking into. The forest loomed ahead, its thick canopy casting long shadows over the dirt road. He remembered the guards' conversation from the previous day, their mentions of bandit sightings in the woods. It all made sense now. The supplies, the gold, the location—it was all connected.

The forest swallowed the last light of day, its dense foliage casting an eerie twilight over the narrow trail. Yogan moved with practiced silence, his steps light and deliberate. The bandit was unaware of his shadow, too preoccupied with guiding the carriage over the uneven path. The sounds of the forest surrounded them—the rustle of leaves, the distant call of birds, and the occasional snap of a twig beneath Yogan's feet.

As he followed, Yogan's mind churned with thoughts of Nara. If she truly was being held by these bandits, then it was his responsibility to bring her back. But the weight of that responsibility was crushing. She wasn't just his master; she was the only person who understood the depth of his struggle, the only one who could help him navigate the impossible path Raava had set before him.

I can't lose her, he thought, his fists clenched at his sides. Not now. Not ever.

The carriage came to a stop at the edge of a clearing, and Yogan quickly ducked behind a tree. He watched as the bandit climbed down, stretching briefly before unloading the supplies. Several figures emerged from the shadows, their voices low but gruff as they helped him with the cargo. Yogan's breath hitched as he recognized them—these were the same bandits who had attacked the air temple weeks ago. Their faces were etched into his memory, each one a reminder of the chaos and destruction they had wrought.

Yogan pressed himself closer to the tree, peering through the thick underbrush. Beyond the clearing, hidden by a wall of dense foliage, lay the entrance to a cave. It was well-concealed, the kind of place one wouldn't notice unless they were looking for it. The bandits moved efficiently, carrying the supplies into the cave and emerging moments later to grab more.

Yogan's eyes scanned the scene, taking in every detail. The bandits were heavily armed, their weapons gleaming in the dim light. Their movements were relaxed, almost casual, as though they felt secure in their hidden stronghold. But something was missing. None of the leaders from the temple attack—the ones who had orchestrated the raid—were present.

His gaze lingered on the cave entrance, his thoughts racing. If Nara was here, she would likely be inside. But going in alone, without knowing how many bandits were within, would be reckless. He needed more information, more certainty. And perhaps… backup.

Yogan's jaw tightened as he wrestled with the decision. The sight of the bandits was a stark reminder of his own limitations, of the overwhelming odds stacked against him. But the thought of Nara, possibly injured or worse, spurred him forward.

I have to make a choice, he thought, his breathing steady despite the storm of emotions within him. Do I wait, or do I act?

The faint rustle of leaves brought him back to the present, and he crouched lower, his eyes never leaving the cave. For now, all he could do was watch and decide.

[A/N: Can't wait to see what happens next? Get exclusive early access on patreon.com/saiyanprincenovels. If you enjoyed this chapter and want to see more, don't forget to drop a power stone! Your support helps this story reach more readers!]