Chapter 9: Spirit world.

Michael carefully held the cup with his right hand, not afraid to break it after long practice with other things. Even before his death, he learned to control power using glass balls. He was given ultra-thin glass balls and his task was to hold them in his right hand and not break them. Simple, but effective. 

Unfortunately, getting used to having your hand back was harder than that, but he still managed, even if his training had added a couple of new scars to his palm.

He took a sip of tea and placed the cup on the ground in front of him. He told Iroh everything that had happened to him, from his death to the harassment by the Spirits. Of course, he didn't say anything about the Goddess who visited his dream, that would be rude to her. Now Michael was just waiting for Iroh to regain his voice.

Usually, when people encounter the unknown, they react in different ways. Some people are afraid of the unknown, some people try to explain the unknown, and some people just accept the unknown. Because there is always something bigger in the world.

But Iroh wasn't like that. He saw the world with his own eyes and preferred to learn rather than just accept everything. He knew that he would never know everything that is in this world and did not want to know it. He didn't need that much headache.

"Why tell me this?" The old man asked with interest.

"Because sooner or later I'll have to tell this to someone. And I decided to tell the person who knows how to keep secrets. Seriously, I don't know how your nephew hasn't caught the Avatar with his naive mindset yet."

Iroh chuckled, he knew that if he really tried, the Avatar would be caught sooner rather than later, but the world needed balance, so he didn’t even try.

"Whose mindset? Avatar's or Zuko's?"

Michael just shrugged. Both still have their rose-colored glasses of optimism, even if the frames are cracked and the lenses are dirtied.

"Haaa… Well, we learn something new every day. I'll have to say hi to Jasmine when I die, she sounds like a good woman."

"Nah, this world is under the supervision of the Spirit of Death, if I remember correctly. But I think she’ll appreciate the thought."

As far as Michael knew, every world had A Grim Reaper, but Jasmine was THE Grim Reaper. The Top Dog so to say. She obviously didn’t deal with common cases.

"Huh. Who would've thought?"

For a couple of minutes, the wounded teen – young adult, really – and the retired General just sat there and drank tea, neither of them said a word. Iroh was still thinking about life and all the strange things that Michael had told him. And Michael was just trying not to fall asleep, he most likely had a concussion or seven.

"Michael, do you know why this Spirit chose you?" Iroh suddenly asked.

"Wha–? Oh, well, I don't know, maybe because I'm from another world?" Sarcasm almost dripped from his words. "He said it himself. Something about me being the exception to the rule for not belonging to this world."

Iroh silently nodded and decided to take the conversation in a different direction.

"You will have to look for an exit. There are such passages in places with connections through strong Spirits, a good example is Silver Lake. You'll need to find a Spirit who can help you leave, and I don't think Gotl will help you cross the barrier."

"Do I need help? Can't I just step over myself?"

"No, no… Only Spirits or people with a strong connection with Spirits as the Avatar are capable of this."

Michael frowned. He was sure that he was simply thrown into the passage and he ended up on the other side. Does a Spirit need to hold the one passing by the arm, or is it enough for them just to think that the person will pass through the barrier? Judging by his memories, all the Spirits dragged people into their world with their bare hands, so his transition did not make any sense.

He decided to drop it for now.

"What am I supposed to do then?"

Iroh stroked his beard in thought and sighed heavily.

"According to legends, at the South Pole, there is a portal to our world through which anyone can come through. If along the way there you find a Spirit who agrees to help you, then good. But for now, your best option is to go to the Pole."

Knowing that he probably had no other choice, Michael just nodded. 

"If you meet my friends, tell them to look for me at the South Pole."

Michael breathed deeply and stood up from the ground leaning on his staff. The teenager didn't even twitch from the pain in his whole body, he had already managed to get used to it.

"Oh, and tell your nephew that when I finish my training as a Healer, I'll heal his scar. His shitstain of a father shouldn't leave his mark on him. Nobody deserves that."

Iroh's eyes fell on the glove on Michael's right hand and he frowned. Looking at the teenager with new understanding, the General just nodded. Michael stopped for a second and looked over his shoulder at his new comrade.

"Thanks for the tea, old man, the next one's on me."

The old man only laughed.

"I'll be waiting!"

As Michael disappeared into the thick forest, Iroh lost his smile and frowned deeply. He set his cup on the ground and looked at Michael's footprints.

"Does one remain a human even after death?"

Silence was his answer.

---

Michael made his way through the already hated jungle for a week and a half. He knew that before the Avatar arrived at the North Pole, he had about two months, so Michael decided to hurry. His wounds hurt less every day, but given that his condition required bed rest, he was still unwell.

Passing through the forest, sleeping under the starry sky and eating berries and… Spirits he was able to capture, Michael was able to get to the edge of the forest and come out to–

"FUCK'S SAKE! It's a fucking ocean! Why is it the ocean?!"

Michael stepped out to face the sandy seashore. There was not even a hint of the existence of people on the sand, so the landscape was truly virgin. The waves gently caressed the shore, as if calming the Earth itself from the fury of universal proportions.

But even despite all this beauty, Michael was furious. He couldn't use Waterbending in the Spirit World and couldn't swim with a broken arm. He could build himself a raft in time, but that would be too slow. He took a deep breath, knowing that his anger wouldn't lead him anywhere, Michael decided to take a break.

First of all, he threw his bag and staff on the ground – the latter was half in the sand from the force of the throw – and went to the sea. He dipped his finger into the cold water and tasted it, to his surprise, the water was fresh. Deciding not to look the gift horse in the mouth, Michael filled his leather bag with water and hung it on his belt. His iron flask might be lost forever, but that didn't mean he didn't have a replacement.

He took off his clothes with difficulty – more like peeled them off, he couldn't wash properly in the forest all this time – and washed them in the sea as best he could. It was quite difficult to do, considering that he only had one working arm.

He hung his clothes to dry on a branch of a tree and, remaining completely naked, plunged into the sea himself. The cold water lashed his body, but he got used to the sensation pretty quickly. Dirt and dried blood gradually left his skin and dissolved into the water, leaving only a clean one–armed teenager in the sea. His hair lay gently on the water, surrounding his head like a black halo.

Ever so slowly, Michael was finally able to relax. There were no hidden knives on his body – apart from the one that was part of his metal arm – there was no blood on him and no one was following him.

"Haa~ I didn't even know I needed it. The beach, the sea, and the weird–ass humanoid octopus…"

Michael continued drifting in the water for a couple more minutes, completely ignoring his mind's cries about the fucking octopus. He felt the octopus lay on the surface of the water next to him, but simply refused to acknowledge the existence of this Spirit.

"You shouldn't be here."

An unfamiliar voice sounded not far from his head. Michael was ready to cry, he was tired of meeting the Spirits and just wanted to rest, but apparently the universe was against it.

'Great, the Spirit has spoken, now I can't ignore it.'

Michael forced his body to relax and sighed heavily.

"So I’ve been told. I'm trying to fix this."

From his side came a wet splash, sounding suspiciously like a laugh.

"No, I'm not talking about the fact that the world is screaming at me to get rid of you. It's just that you shouldn't be here. The Spirit World is accessible to few, for those who wholeheartedly strive for unity with nature. You’re not striving, that I can tell."

Michael frowned. He never wondered if he could get into the Spirit world, he knew that this world exists, which means he can get there. That he needed to have a certain mindset never even crossed his thoughts. He made a mental note not to make such stupid mistakes again, but he knew full well that it was impossible.

The teenager opened his eyes and looked at the humanoid octopus. The Spirit's head was a strange mix between Davy Jones from "Pirates of the Caribbean" and Cthulhu, with his gray–green body it looked quite exotic. Instead of hands and fingers, the Spirit had long and thin tentacles tied into the shape of a hand. Legs… Michael couldn't see the Spirit's legs, but he suspected that there were also tentacles there.

"And I don't?"

The octopus smiled and shook his head, which looked strange while lying on the water.

"You strive for something else, rarely stopping to even see nature. Yes, you enjoy the landscapes, you cry for the destroyed lands, but you do not see nature."

He blinked. How did that Spirit know so much about him?

"Huh. I guess you're right."

Michael knew what he was aiming for. He just wanted to get home, find a place where he wouldn't have to look over his shoulder every minute for fear of attack, where the world isn’t trying to kill him. He just didn't have time to SEE nature.

"Hey, why are you resisting the urge to get rid of me?" He suddenly asked.

"And why shouldn’t I? You will leave sooner or later, just like the morning surf. I chose the path of least resistance, the one where you leave of your own accord."

"The path of least resistance… But it's electricity, not water…"

Michael fell into thought and did not notice how the Spirit dissolved under the water. His thoughts were all over the place, but each of his brain cells was thinking about Iroh's Lightning redirection technique.

Lightning redirection is a sub–skill of Firebending that allows Firebenders to absorb lightning into their body as energy and release it in a more desirable direction. The technique was developed by Iroh after he studied master Waterbenders, who redirect an opponent's energy rather than oppose it head–on. Lightning redirection works well for both natural and Bender–generated lightning, and electricity conducted through metal.

Knowing this, he began to think about traditional Bender techniques. He was neglecting these techniques, as they were too slow and useless for him. He took only the best and left everything unnecessary, as he was taught from his birth.

Iroh did the same. He took only the best and created a new technique, but he stopped after one. Michael almost did the same. The Razenshuriken was stolen, collecting water from the atmosphere was inspired by other similar techniques. But Michael did not create anything of his own, not really.

The words of the Spirit gave him an unexpected push. A push to the creative path.

This sudden inspiration hit him like a truck. He was ready to jump on his feet and explore the possibilities of Bending, but he immediately ran into a problem.

He couldn't use Bending in the Spirit World.

"... That inspiring Octo–bitch."

---

Michael was lying on a makeshift hammock he had made from a blanket and rope. He looked at the setting sun with some irritation on his face. His thoughts were full of ideas and he couldn't bring them to life. But this situation prompted him to another thought.

Why can't humans use Bending in the Spirit World?

When a person enters the Spirit World through meditation, they lose their ability to Bend elements. The problem was that Michael entered the Spirit World through a portal, so he must still have access to his Chi. The World of Spirits is tangible and consists of the same elements as the world of people, so those who entered through the portal can still use Bending.

For Michael, his situation made no sense. He raised his hand in front of him and tried to collect water from the atmosphere to no avail. Humming to himself, Michael thought deeply back to the basics.

His use of water was based on the idea that it was just a tool. Yes, water has a temper, but Michael knows how to work with complex tools. He didn't try to force the water to flow, he only directed the flow of water. That thought made him pause, could that be the problem?

Michael got up from the hammock and went to the sea. His feet sank into the cooling sand, but he didn't get distracted by such mundane things. He stopped when he felt the water touch his feet, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. Moist air filled his lungs and he smiled. His arms hung lifeless at his sides, but he didn't need to move to control the water anyway.

He did not direct the water or forced the water to move. He was in the world of Spirits, a place where mythical creatures live. So he just invited the water in to him, invited it to climb up his body as if it was a living being.

He wasn't surprised when the water started to rise on his legs and slowly covered his body like a second layer of skin. Michael wasn't sure exactly how he could breathe through the layer of water, but he decided not to think about it right now. He felt the water drip through the sling on his left arm and release the pressure from his body.

Even with his closed eyes, he could see the light that covered his wounds. Slowly but surely, he felt the pain leave his body, leaving only bliss. Opening his eyes, Michael barely managed not to fall into the sea from pure shock. 

The water did not cover his skin.

His skin became water.

'Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic, don't panic–'

The words reverberated through his skull like a broken record. Michael couldn't understand how his skin became water and why the fuck he couldn't feel it change. The fact that he saw his muscles didn't help the situation.

He looked at his left arm and immediately realized that it was a mistake. It was made entirely of water and still glowed with soft blue light. Michael bit his cheek to keep himself from screaming in shock and took a closer look.

His water arm looked… Well, like an arm, but transparent. It was as if someone made his skin, muscles and bones out of jelly and attached this monstrosity at the place of his arm while he looked the other way. The strangest thing was that his bone didn't look broken, in fact it looked as healthy as it ever would.

He wiggled his fingers and nearly had a heart attack when he noticed they were flexing in all directions. Michael could only return his fingers to their normal position and run out of the water as if his life depended on it. But just as he turned to escape the sea, his skin snapped back into place, setting Michael's nerves on fire.

"Wha-!"

He fell face down into the sand and groaned at the sensation against his skin. The smallest grains of sand dug into his flesh like needles, but gradually the pain went away, leaving behind only the warmth of the sand. Michael didn't know what had happened, but he knew who to blame.

"That Octo-bitch…"

Right now, he had two prime candidates for destruction: the Fire Nation and the Spirits, because both were fucking bastards. It was easy for him to accept that his new problem came from some crap that octopus had done.

He took a deep breath and calmed his nerves. If he meets this Spirit again, he will tear off a pair of tentacles from him. In the meantime, Michael decided to check his body for wounds.

The first thing he noticed were his arms. His right arm, still full of scars, stopped hurting so much, and the marks themselves looked much calmer. There were no more bright red lines and bright starbursts, just light patches of skin that formed a strange pattern on his arm. The rest of his skin is much clearer and softer, as if he had just stepped out of a spa.

His left arm was no longer broken, which he would've considered a miracle earlier, but he knew better. What happened to him healed his arm, so he might only pull out one tentacle from that octopus.

The second thing he noticed was the complete absence of hair on his body. Luckily the hair on his head was intact, but everything else was as clean as a baby's bottom. To be honest, it's weirded him out. The only thing he could assume was that he instinctively turned the hair on his head into water, and all the rest just fell off his body.

"If I can do that again, I'll never have to shave. Hmm."

He scratched his clean chin and looked towards the sea. Michael didn't want to repeat whatever it was anytime soon, but he needed to check something.

The black-haired teenager raised his hand towards the water and beckoned it over, and to his surprise, it followed! He just played with the water for a couple of minutes, forming various shapes out of it, but in the end he nodded in satisfaction. His Waterbending worked again.

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It was obvious that his Airbending still refused to cooperate, but he could survive without wind for the moment. Michael looked around the beach and sighed heavily. Now he just needs to build a raft and sail towards the North.

"Thank Loki, I took the rope with me."

He looked at the setting sun and frowned. Looks like he'll have to start tomorrow.

---

Katara, Sokka, and Aang were not in the best of moods. The battle with Zhao and Zuko during the Winter Solstice was quite the event, but their sadness came from a different source. Their mysterious friend disappeared from the face of the earth when they met Haru.

All they found were his footprints and scratched trees – as if someone were digging their nails into the bark of trees, trying to keep themselves in place. Everything looked too strange to understand what had happened.

At first, Katara speculated that he might have been arrested and sent to work with the Earthbenders, but this theory fell apart when Katara visited the prison herself. They helped the Earthbenders regain their freedom, but never found any trace of their friend.

It wasn't until Aang went to the Spirit World to save Sokka that he remembered their old conversation.

'I asked how one can kill a Spirit.'

Aang sat on Appa's neck, guiding the Bison towards the North, while the siblings from the South Water Tribe quietly went about their business. The young Avatar didn't know how to break the news to his friends, but ended up just turning to them with a completely serious face, which immediately caught their attention.

"Aang? Buddy, what made you frown like that?"

Sokka immediately put his sword and whetstone aside, fully prepared for anything.

"I think… No, I know what happened to Michael."

Katara and Sokka just stared blankly at their friend, not fully understanding what he was saying.

"When we were on Kyoshi Island, he asked me how one could kill a Spirit. That one of them scared him and that he wants revenge. Those nail marks that we found on the trees in the place where Michael was most likely the marks that the Spirit left. If Michael is still alive, then he is in the Spirit World now, but I don't know where exactly…"

Silence reigned in the air, and only Momo's soft sobs broke the silence. The poor guy was horrified when Michael disappeared, not understanding what happened to his hairless lemur buddy.

"Can you find it? Ask other Spirits if they saw him?"

"Does anyone have a map of the Spirit World? Maybe this will help us somehow?"

Katara and Sokka immediately pitched their ideas and Aang couldn't be happier. He was sure that with the help of his friends he could find Michael wherever he was.

---

"Come all you young sailor men, listen to me,

I'll sing you a song of the fish in the sea;"

Michael stood on a raft he made after two days of work and used Waterbending to push his "ship" forward. He cut down enough trees using the water blades and tied them together with the coil of rope that lay at the bottom of his bag.

His black hair was tied in a short braid at the back of his head, and next to his left eye was a thin braid  Captain Jack Sparrow style – he even tied a silver coin into it. His skin was bronzed from two days of continuous work in the sun, and his hands were calloused again from working with wood and ropes. His staff served as a mast that caught the air and helped the ship sail forward.

In short, Michael chose to become a pirate. He was so immersed in his role that he even remembered the shanties he had heard in his past life.

He raised his hands in front of him and felt the water flow around his raft.

"And it's…

Windy weather, boys, stormy weather, boys,

When the wind blows, we're all together, boys;

Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow,

Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes."

With each "b" the raft was pushed forward by a small wave of water from below. Michael sang with a small smile on his face, wondering what his friends would think if they saw him now. If he could use Airbending, he would create a dozen singing voices to not feel so alone, but he had to limit himself to the sound of his own voice.

"Up jumps the eel with his slippery tail,

Climbs up aloft and reefs the topsail."

After talking to the octopus, Michael began to really try to "see nature," whatever that meant. So he dropped all unnecessary thoughts and tried to become one with the ocean – not in the sense of "my skin became water again," once was enough.

He remembered those few quiet walks through the woods in his past world, when he was alone with the music. Unfortunately, usually such walks ended with four or five extra wallets in his bag.

"And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather, boys,

When the wind blows, we're all together, boys;

Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow,

Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes."

He threw his arms out to the sides and let his Chi control the water even without moving. After his transformation into a waterman, it became much easier for him to use Waterbending, which was strange but welcome.

"Then up jumps the shark with his nine rows of teeth,

Saying, "You eat the dough boys, and I'll eat the beef!""

"And it's windy weather, boys, stormy weather, boys,

When the wind blows, we're all together, boys;

Blow ye winds westerly, blow ye winds, blow,

Jolly sou'wester, boys, steady she goes."

"Up jumps the whale… the largest of all,

"If you want any wind, well, I'll blow ye a squall!""

---

Michael seriously doubted his idea, but he simply had no other choice. He did not know how the laws of physics work in the Spirit World, and to be honest, he was afraid to find out. Considering that during the three days of sailing, he could only eat the wild vegetables and fruits that he had collected, the teenager thought that he had no other choice.

So with a heavy sigh, Michael brought the raft to a complete stop and set a bowl in front of him. He poured some water inside, and put a leaf of wood that he received from the Goddess on the surface. The leaf remained on the surface and floated softly, almost undisturbed by the waves of the sea. Although it may have been because Michael used Waterbending to calm the water.

He took out a sewing kit from his bag and took out a needle from it, which he placed on the surface of the raft and hit the blunt end several times with his metal staff to magnetize it. Michael laid the needle down on the sheet and nodded in satisfaction as it slowly turned in the direction of his path, if a little to the left.

His makeshift compass was a wildcard because he didn't know if it would point north, but now that he had confirmed his guess, he could safely continue on his way.

"To be honest, this is the first time I've seen a person determine their path in this way. But then again, what do I know about people, right?"

Michael groaned softly and thrust his staff back into the hole in the raft. He turned around and was about to say something very rude, but stopped when he noticed the appearance of his new companion. It was a woman with a long neck and clouds for arms. Her body and legs looked normal if one could ignore that there were only three fingers on her legs and no navel on her bare stomach.

Her hair was also a cloud, oddly enough, and her eyes were blue like the sea, not that Michael could focus on that, because right now he was trying to figure out exactly what he was seeing. It was definitely the Spirit, but her speech was not the usual "Holier than thou" attitude that Michael was used to hearing from the Spirits.

So the only thing he could do was turn away and ignore the problem like he was trying to do with the other Spirit.

'If she wanted to kill me, I'd be dead already.' He thought, creating a current that pushed his raft forward.

"You know, it's rude to ignore someone." She said as she flew in front of Michael's face. "My elders always say that being rude will get you nowhere in this world. My name is Sylphy, nice to meet you!"

Michael frowned and looked at his makeshift compass to check his route. Sylphy, meanwhile, looked at his staff, trying to understand why there was a metal stick in a wooden rectangle.

"I don't agree. Sometimes a couple of rude words are just what's needed to get the ball rolling."

The Spirit's eyes widened comically and she excitedly flew up to Michael, almost food for happiness.

"You don't think I'm a hallucination! You're the first person who didn't start yelling 'Go away Demon!' as soon as you saw me!"

Suddenly, understanding hit Michael like a truck. The Spirit in front of him was too happy to see the man in her territory, too glad to talk to him once she knew of his existence. She spoke much more clearly than other spirits and did not irritate him in the same way that many others did.

'She is a young spirit. That explains why she isn't an asshole yet.'

The fact that she was young also explained why she still hadn't tried to kill him. Few of the young creatures could hear the voice of the world, even if that voice shouted the order to get rid of the intruder.

With a new understanding, Michael decided not to judge as quickly as he used to and try to talk to Sylphy.

"I don't think many people are used to seeing Spirits, especially when they don't expect it."

She nodded sagely and rubbed her chin, which had grown a large beard made of clouds.

"You say wise things, my new friend. Where are you going? I don't think many people travel the spirit world with their bodies just like that."

Michael wanted to ask how exactly she knew he wasn't there as a Spirit, but quickly realized it was a stupid question. Without his body, he would not be able to use Waterbending.

"Well… Some silver condom named Gotl decided to drag me here and feed my emotions to the lake, whatever that means. I couldn't return the way I came, so I decided to get to the Northern Spirit Portal leading to the human world."

The girl looked at him with a strange expression and nodded slowly.

"Right… Two questions: did you kill that annoying bastard, and why do you need the Northern Spirit Portal? Is this one of those cracks the elder was talking about? If you want one, you can just stop on that island over there. The one on the North is closed I hear." Here the Spirit pointed to the Northwest. "I don't know where this portal leads, but it's quite warm even in winter. At least that's what the elder says."

Michael's brain stopped working for the second time in a day, but this time he was able to recover much faster than before and decided to ask questions rather than ignore the problem.

"Cracks? I only saw one and it was destroyed as soon as I went through it. It didn't even look like a crack." He muttered. "Are you telling me there's more? And how do you even know that the portal in the North is closed?"

Michael checked his memories, but couldn't remember anything about the closed portal. He knew that the portal existed, and having no other choice, he decided to head towards it. Sighing heavily, he steered the raft in the direction that Sylphy had shown, wondering where exactly the portal was leading.

"You have a lot of questions, don't you?" She smirked, but turned serious in the next second. "The elder found records of portals when these cracks started to appear everywhere. It was said that the Avatar closed the North Portal to separate the Spirit World from the Human World, but no one remembers why. Spirits can travel through these cracks without problems, but if people pass through them, then they close immediately."

Michael silently thanked Loki for the fact that he was lucky enough to meet a Spirit that doesn't say nonsense in every word. In his eyes, most of the Spirits were arrogant pseudo–sages, and the rest were just a pain in the ass. Seeing with his own eyes that this was not true was very pleasant, even if unexpected.

"Have these cracks always existed? Why does no one know about them?"

Sylphy tilted her head and her cloudy hair became slightly darker. Michael assumed it had something to do with her thoughts and emotions, but didn't think much about it.

"Well… Not many people know about these passages. Some Spirits can create them for their own purposes, but most of these cracks started to appear about half a year ago on their own."

Michael blinked at that.

"Half a year? What happened half a year ago- Oh."

The teen looked down at his scarred hand and frowned. About half a year ago, he appeared in this world, he was not sure that this event was the cause of the cracks, but so far this was the most logical explanation.

That was bad news. Michael had no idea where to look for the World Gate, but he already had obstacles in the form of these cracks. Even if these Gates look like real gates, the appearance of possible passages around the world promised only problems.

"You haven't answered my questions." Sylphy remembered, waving her hand in front of his face. "Are you still here?"

Michael shook his head to get rid of unnecessary thoughts and adjusted the mast/staff to sail towards the island that his new acquaintance pointed out.

"No, I didn't kill him, at least I think so. And the Northern Spirit Portal is a passage between our worlds, but permanent."

Sylphy snapped her fingers and her face brightened.

"A-ha! I remember what it was! The elder told me that this passage was closed about ten thousand years ago!"

As soon as Michael heard this, he felt his brain explode with pain. He saw with his own eyes how the first Avatar closed the Portal to separate the world of Spirits and humans, he saw the consequences of the existence of Vaatu and couldn't say that he liked what he saw.

Destroyed lands, war, deaths on both sides, corruption that pushed everyone to self-destruction.

He was able to get out of his own mind only when Sylphy started shaking him like a ragdoll, the Spirit looked at him with worry, but Michael couldn't understand what she was saying, his ears were ringing like never before.

Michael decided to think over his plans to steal the Vaatu in a little more detail… maybe he doesn't need a ten thousand year old Spirit in his body after all…

"You good? I've never had such troublesome friends like you before." Sylphy shook her head and helped Michael to his feet. He didn't even notice when he fell to his knees.

Deciding to sort out the mess in his head later, Michael grabbed his staff so as not to fall again and turned around to look at the Spirit.

"I'm fine, it's just that this world doesn't like me. Can you show me that crack you were talking about?" Michael chuckled, thinking how ambiguous his words sounded.

Sylphy perked up and took his hands in hers, smiling as widely as she could.

"Sure! You'll even meet our elder! She's very funny when she's not trying to be scarier than a storm." She shuddered. "Anyway, to the crack we go!"

Michael just nodded in understanding and swam in the direction that Sylphy showed. Suddenly, it seemed to hit him and he began to giggle. These giggles quickly became hysterical laughter that startled the young Spirit. Sylphy looked at him like he was crazy and raised an eyebrow in a silent question, to which Michael muttered only one thing:

"Crack… like an ass crack."

Sylphy didn't find it funny.

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