Zuko stood at the head of the war table, the firelight casting deep shadows across the map scattered with markers, notes, and sigils. His eyes were hard, his tone more clipped than usual.
“Everything we had in place before wasn’t enough. We don’t get to be caught off guard again. Not with Katara still recovering and the possibility that Xehanort’s just waiting for us to relax.” His jaw tensed at the still fresh memory of that fight.
“I want firewalls layered around every portal we know of. I want to know if his magic is still echoing anywhere inside Katara. And if any of you know anything that could help us track the next move he makes, you tell me.” He exhaled, short and ragged, anger seething just below the surface.
“I want my sister under constant guard. No gaps, no exceptions. I’m not losing anyone else to the kind of darkness Xehanort brings.” His eyes darkened with a fierce protectiveness, “Azula may be unpredictable, but she’s still family.” There was a hushed quiet as the weight of his words settled over the room. Then the door opened behind him. Zuko turned, half expecting another scout or minister with bad news, until his eyes landed on the man in the doorway. The slight pause in the room told him the others knew who it was, even before he did.
He straightened. His expression didn’t soften exactly, but the heat in his golden eyes tempered.
“You must be Terra.” He stepped back from the map, gesturing slightly with one hand. “You came here to help? Good. We could use it.” And then he spoke a touch quieter, only for Terra. “It’s good to finally meet you.”