There’s nothing. Nothing catches, no trickle of other-worldly energy, no force and grace weighted with centuries of age. Korra breathes in, breathes out. Still nothing. Her fists are pressing so hard she feels like she’ll break her fingers, and her teeth are clenched, and there’s nothing. She pushes and pulls, pushes and pulls, feels the ground under her feet rattle with her anger; her blood boils in desperation, and her breath chokes in her throat, and there’s nothing.
Her eyes fly open, and she turns, seeking Tenzin out in the crowd. “I can’t find it!” she gasps, before she has a moment to think about whether or not she can admit this on city-side television, before she thinks about any of the implications. “Tenzin,” and her words are breathless like she’s forgotten how to airbend, “I can’t find the Avatar State.”