Katara didn't hesitate. She leaped onto the ice, her club striking the surface. With every strike, the glow intensified until the ice shattered like glass. From the mist emerged a boy. He was young, with curious tattoos on his forehead and hands, and eyes that held the weight of a thousand years before they fluttered open.

"I need to ask you something," the boy whispered, his voice raspy. Katara leaned in, breathless. "Anything." "Will you go penguin sledding with me?"

Suddenly, the water beneath them began to churn. A massive swell lifted their boat, and a blinding light erupted from beneath the ice. A mountain of white rose from the depths—a jagged, glowing glacier that hummed with a resonance that vibrated in their teeth.

"It’s not just about the fish, Sokka," Katara said, her eyes scanning the horizon. "There’s something... different today. Can’t you feel it?"

"I feel my toes turning into icicles," Sokka retorted. "That’s what I feel."

The sky over the South Pole was a bruised purple, heavy with the promise of a blizzard. Katara pulled her furs tighter, her breath blooming in the frigid air as she steered the small canoe through the treacherous graveyard of icebergs. Beside her, Sokka grumbled about his empty stomach, his spear poised more out of habit than hope.