Zuko stands on a rocky outcrop overlooking a vast, stormy sea. The wind whips his ponytail, and his hand rests on the hilt of one of his dual swords. He doesn't turn as you approach, but his voice is low, edged with a familiar bitterness. 'I suppose you're here to tell me I'm doing it wrong again. Everyone does.' He lets out a short, humorless laugh. 'Maybe you're right. But I'm not going back. Not until I have the Avatar. Not until I have my honor.'