Korra’s foot hovers across the edge. She inhales the last element she has a connection to. Her eyes close.
She follows her tears down to the tumultuous ocean below.
“Korra. This is not the way.”
Her eyes snap open. She’s no longer soaring down into the crushing waves of the South Pole’s seas. She’s somewhere strange and still; everything is pure white, but somehow slightly out of focus. Except the man beside her, glowing an eerie blue.
“Why are you doing this, Korra? People still need you.”
“No they don’t. No one needs me. I’m not the Avatar anymore.” Korra’s voice starts in a fierce denial, but breaks on her last words.
“Is that all that matters? Your bending?”
“My bending is what made me me. I’m nothing without it.” Korra is angry at this apparition, for his soft tone and his false wisdom. What does he know? He never lost his bending.
“You think bending is the only thing that makes a person worthwhile? That without those skills someone doesn’t even deserve to live?”
“No- I mean yes, but- ugh! I’m- I was the Avatar! The world needs the Avatar, and I failed. If I die, then the Avatar can be reborn as someone who isn’t such a.... disappointment.”
Korra choked back a cry.
“I’m so sorry, Korra. For everything that you’ve gone through, I’m so sorry. But this isn’t the way to fix things. Violence towards yourself won’t fix things.”
Aang’s sympathy feels like a blade to Korra. She turns away.
“This is the only way I can make it better. I’m.... useless. Nothing can ever make this better. It’s over.”
Aang hmms noncommittally.
“Open your eyes.”
Korra opens her eyes. She gasps.
She is hovering above the ocean waves, swirling wind shielding her from the rampaging water. But more than that, Korra notices the brilliant white overlaying yet enhancing everything around her. It almost hurts to look at.
Is this the Avatar State?
“It may hurt to see that there’s hope, but it’s always there. And you always have the strength to endure.
‘Remember this wisdom, Korra: you are the Avatar, but more than that, you are yourself.”
With the will of a thousand lives supporting her, Korra floats back atop the cliff.
The wind disperses and Korra stands alone, looking down at what she had tried to do.
“Korra?” Mako’s voice sounds tiny behind her.
She turns to him. His face is pale; he looks lost somehow, like this wasn’t how this was supposed to go.
Korra turns back to the cliff. She inhales.
“I need to talk to Katara.”