Rumours spread across the colonies like wildfire, fear and uncertainty their fuel. Fire Nation elites, entering their bedchambers one night and found lying neatly in their sheets the next morning, dead without a struggle. Guards, one moment alert and the next waking in restraints, gasping for breath. A wind that carried with it a dark spectre, a flash of blood and hatred. Over a handful of years, the retelling and merging of stories birthed the image of an evil spirit and gave it a name: Red Mist.

Those who still hold the spirits in high esteem are rare these days, but their number is growing in the wake of these deaths. Superstitions vary, though: incense and food offerings left in makeshift street shrines, communal fasting, chanting in town squares. Prayers to the Avatar's past lives remain the universal expression of spiritual piety. Except, while the son of a colonial governor may beg the late Roku's spirit to watch over his father, a downtrodden Earth Citizen would curse their coal-licking foreign masters in Kyoshi's name.

Your own master, the Marquess Minseo, scoffs at the notion of praying to dead Avatars. "Past lives can only act through a present body," she once said during one of her four-nations-famous rants -- to you, a lowly servant of all people, forced to listen and nod along. "And there is none in this age, not after the Airbenders got what they deserved." So too does she wave away claims of a spiritual disturbance, as if she were some sort of authority on the matter. "Those were assassination attempts by human hands, pure and simple." After all, these 'dirt people lands' are 'unexplored territory', rich in opportunities and potential wealth. "What self-respecting elite wouldn't try to stake their claim by offing a rival?" Again, speaking like an expert, maybe even from experience.

When she left yesterday on a spontaneously-planned months-long stay in the Fire Nation, it was purely a matter of business, a happy coincidence that would save her tonight.

You just happen to be awake at an odd hour on this moonless night. A strange sound draws your attention -- no, a strange silence. Something amiss. The oil lamp in your hand illuminates the corridors of the small mansion you were charged to oversee in the Marquess' absence, searching the darkness.

Traditional wisdom says spirits of ill are drawn to spaces with disordered chi, as inevitable as wind in the valley, as surely as water flows downhill. Earth Nobles faithfully follow these superstitions, which amount to complicated furnishing rules, in order to invite the good energy, block the bad energy, and, more importantly, soothe their own fears. But Marquess Minseo of the Fire Nation is a skeptic, with her eclectically-decorated mansion and absolute lack of aesthetic sense. None of that wind-water nonsense for rational her.

Ahead of you, a horde of masks hangs on the wall. The styles clash, with no particular theme whatsoever. Clear. Behind you, pots and vases line the corridor. They're clearly of high quality, but hold no value in this arrangement. Nevertheless, clear. Back in front of you, where the masks are.

Something's off. Normally, only four masks hang on the bottom row, slightly askew. Now there are five. The fifth, red mask is perfectly aligned with the ground.

Darkness seems to encircle it, forming a whorl of black. Your posture is forcibly straightened by an unseen vortex, arms pressed tight against body. Fwip-fwip. In an instant, bolas tangle around your ankles, strap wrists to hips. Now there is no escape.

The vortex turns you around and lifts you into a windowless room, filled with narcissistic self-portraits of the Marquess, before it sets you down without a sound. Silence approaches from behind. Before you can cry out, a quiet exhale is inexplicably drawn out of you and a piece of cloth invades your mouth. The door shuts tight.

A firm grip fixes your gaze onto a painting of your master, illuminated by candlelight from behind you. "Where is the Marquess?" The raspy whisper of a feminine voice catches you by surprise. "I only want Marquess Minseo."

The gag is removed, and you can now speak freely, but not before a warning. "Call the guards, and you won't live to attend her funeral."