#avatarfireandash

“A baby…” Jake muttered over your shoulder. 

“A baby,” you agreed, blinking in dumbfounded joy and surprise.

“What a blessing,” Mo’at noted, although you didn’t miss the underlying sorrow. If her daughter was still here, if she was still alive, then Neytiri would have been the one carrying Jake’s child.

You let go of your mate and reached out to place a hand on her arm, nodding to convey your thanks.

“How far along is she?” Jake asked his former mother in law. 

She smiled briefly at your gesture, “I would say 6 weeks, but these things are not exact, it is hard to tell. I leave you to discuss this,” she answered as she got up to give you and Jake some privacy.

Jake gripped your hands in his. “Another kid…” he muttered in wonder. 

“Eywa is testing us, four children…” you murmured.

Jake sat up straighter, “You don't want another?” he asked, his brows low on his forehead.

“I do! I do, it's just… well we will really be outnumbered now,” you laughed.

He closed his eyes briefly at the thought, “I just hope it’s another girl,” he smiled, and you huffed a sardonic laugh. 

“Can you imagine 3 boys?” you groaned, resting your forehead on his wrist as he laughed harder.

“I don’t want to,” he shook his head. 

-

You and Jake had gone back and forth about when to tell the kids, but after another month, you both agreed you couldn't wait any longer.

“Sully family meeting!” Jake called, gathering your small children around him in a circle. Jake reached out to pick up Lo’ak who was attempting to run past him to the basket of toys in the corner.

From where you were sitting next to Jake, you were directly across from Kiri and Neteyam. “Sa’nu and Sempu have something to tell you,” you started.

“Is it good or bad?” Kiri blurted in worry, already interrupting your train of thought. 

“It’s good, babygirl,” Jake told her. Lo’ak sat in his lap, squirming until Jake handed him the orange Toruk toy. The boy was like a wild nantang, ever hyper and ready to play.

“Are we in trouble?” Neteyam asked, shrinking back.

“No! Why would that be a good thing!” Kiri exclaimed, rolling her eyes at her older brother.

“You’re not in trouble, Mommy is going to have a baby,” you said, waiting as all of their faces filled with shock and then slowly morphed into varying emotions. 

Kiri looked purely skeptical, probably hoping desperately that she wouldn't get another brother. 

Neteyam looked happy about the news in his own quiet way. He smiled to himself, watching his family in excitement. 

Lo’ak on the other hand, was overjoyed. “WHAT?!” he exclaimed, jumping up from Jake’s arms and running over to you. “A baby is in here?” he asked, patting your stomach.

“Yes, there is,” you nodded as his jaw fell open in shock.

“A boy?” he asked hopefully, his eyebrows raised in the same way Jake’s often did.

“We do not know yet,” you answered.

“When do we find out?” Neteyam asked, finally speaking.

“Max and Norm can do tests to see what it will be in a few months,” Jake offered. 

“We did not know what you would be until you were born, your mother wanted you to be a surprise,” you explained, smiling at the fond memories of her insistence that she did not need any help from humans. 

You and Jake had decided right off the bat that you would never hide Neytiri from her son. He deserved to know his entire story, and you honored her by keeping her alive in him. Her memory was everywhere in your marui. You wore her jewelry nearly everyday, had her bow hanging on the wall waiting for Neteyam when he was older, and her stories had become a favorite during bedtime.

“Why did she not want to know?” Kiri asked Jake.

Jake pursed his lips, “Well, she wanted to do things the Na’vi way. Only humans like to know what the baby will be before its born. She said that she would be happy if you were a boy or a girl,” Jake said, noticing his son looking down at his knees, nodding in thought.

“She loved you very much, so much, she already had a feeling you would be a boy. She told me many times,” you nodded.

“How did she know?” he asked, looking up curiously.

You smiled a sad smile and brushed a braid away from his cheek, “Because a mother always knows, Parultsyìp.”

-

The next week, you rolled over in you and Jake’s hammock, and the swaying of it caused your eyes to fly open at the nausea that tore through you.

You got up and stumbled to the door, fighting with the cover before it finally came undone just in time for you to sink to your knees in the wet dew and lose your stomach all over the grass. 

Heavy footsteps pattered behind you, “Deep breaths, baby. Deep breaths,” Jake said, falling to his knee at your side as he pulled your hair out of your face and rubbed your back. He must have felt you getting up to have met you out here so quickly.

“What do you need?” he asked. One hand moved to rub at your shoulder as you sat up and leaned against his chest. His heartbeat pounded against your head, his arm draping over your middle.

“Nothing, I am fine. Just give me a minute,” you muttered, your face towards the sky but your eyes were closed.

Small footsteps hit the woven kelku floor behind you. “Is mommy okay?” Neteyam’s voice asked. You peeked an eye open to see him rubbing his eyes groggily as he stumbled outside. 

“Yeah, she's gonna be okay. The baby just needs some water. Can you get her some?” Jake asked sweetly in his husky morning voice.

“Yeah,” Neteyam nodded, suppressing a yawn and running back into your home only to return a moment later with a gourd of water.

“Thank you, baby boy,” you smiled, taking the gourd he offered you and squeezing his hand as you drank from it.

He opened his mouth to speak but hesitated. Finally he said, “I had a nightmare,” he confessed, nearly too quiet to be heard. You paused, putting down the water and your nausea was forgotten.

You held out your hands and pulled him into your lap. At 8 years old, he was almost too big to fit. “Do you want to tell us about it?” you asked, leaning your cheek on his forehead.

He nodded and Jake sat down at your side, his arms propping him up with his legs splayed out behind you. “What happened?” 

“There was a giant spider monkey chasing me,” he muttered and your forehead wrinkled in confusion. 

“What is that?” You asked. Jake’s stomach brushed against your arm as you heard his chuckles, you and Neteyam looked to see his father shake his head at the sky and say, “Spider monkeys are small, boy.” 

“Well this one was big!” Neteyam insisted, holding his arms wide to demonstrate. 

“I do not understand. What is a spider monkey?” You asked and both of your boys laughed when you butchered the name. 

“It’s an animal from earth, like a syaksyuk, but a lot smaller,” Jake explained.

“Norm and Max showed us different creatures they have on earth. We watched a video and the monkey ran around and screamed very loud,” Neteyam muttered, looking off in the distance as if he was traumatized. 

“Oh my poor boy,” you tutted, holding Neteyam’s head to your neck. You shared a smile with Jake over your son's head. Jake fought hard to suppress his laugh, but ultimately ended up covering it with a cough. 

“Well if it is like a syaksyuk, that does not sound so bad,” you said. “Maybe this monkey creature is actually very friendly.”

“No mama, it was very scary. He was chasing me through the forest and he caught me right when I woke up!” Neteyam said, as he looked at you with wide eyes. You smoothed down his hair, but Jake did not hold the same sympathies.

“Sempu, why are you laughing?” Neteyam complained as Jakes body was racked with laughter.

“I’m sorry, ‘teyam. It’s just, Spider Monkeys are about this tall.” He said, holding out a hand at what would only be hitting the height of your mid calves. 

Neteyam rolled his eyes and pursed his lips. “No dad! This one was huge!!” He exclaimed again and Jake nodded, resigning to just agree with your son and his silly nightmares.

“Okay, okay. You’re right, that’s scary.”

-

“Baby, put him down,” Jake exclaimed, rushing over to you to pluck Lo’ak out of your arms. 

You had been carrying the 6 year old while cleaning baskets in the stream, your other two children laid out behind you watching the clouds go by on the bank. Jake had just come to join you after a long day of fulfilling his duty as Olo’eyktan.

“Hey!” Lo’ak squealed as Jake held him away from you as your arms reached out for your youngest.

“I am fine, Ma’ Jake. You treat me as if I am the baby,” you huffed. Jake swerved out of your reach, spinning in a circle so that Lo’ak giggled in glee.

“Of course I am when you’re carrying my child,” he replied even as Lo’ak demands another spin, “Put down the baskets, I'll get it,” he ordered as he swept Lo’ak around.

You laid a hand on your barely round stomach at the reminder. You were only 3 months pregnant, but despite the ability to still be able to do most things, Jake was acting just like he had for your first pregnancy. You could barely lift a finger without him swooping in to stop you.

“Sempu!” Kiri yelled, running up to Jake. “Me next! Spin me!” 

“Alright babygirl,” he laughed, picking her up with his other arm and spinning the both of them around and around. 

You shook your head as Lo’ak screamed, upset that Kiri had taken some of Jake’s attention. 

“Momma?” Neteyam asked wading in the water to come up to you. 

“Yes baby?” You asked, ignoring Jake's early demand and sloshing water into the baskets before using a cloth to scrub at them. 

“What are you gonna name the baby?” He asked, grabbing another cloth and basket to follow your motions. 

“Hmm, I don’t know. Have any ideas?” You asked, looking over to him as he had his eyes cast down at the water.

“I like Tuk, like the beginning of Tukru. I think they will be a very good warrior,” he suggested. 

You smiled at the sound of it, it already felt right. “That is beautiful, Neteyam. I think that is a good name.” 

Neteyam smiled back at you for your compliment. “Baby, put it down! Neteyam, help me out. Get that basket,” Jake demanded.

Neteyam leveled his eyes at you, but looked bashful as he held out a hand to do as his father asked. You barked out a laugh his expression but handed the basket over to your son.

“You are just like your father,” you complained, pushing his chin to the side playfully as Neteyam grinned at the water. He clutched both baskets and cloth's in his arms as Jake sloshed over to you.  

“Good job, 'Teyam. What are you guys talking about?” Jake asked, holding both of your youngest children perched on his arms. 

“I said I like the name Tuk for a baby,” Neteyam shrugged. Lo’ak squirmed and Jake set him down. Kiri on the other hand was content to hang in her fathers hold, giggling as he swayed side to side to make her squeal. 

“I like it,” Jake nodded, swinging Kiri up to sit on his shoulders, her gangly legs hanging down to rest on his chest. 

“Baby Tuk,” Lo’ak exclaimed, splashing in the water, “I like it too!”

You smiled at your youngest’s enthusiasm. “Well as long as Lo’ak approves, then I suppose we can use the name,” you teased. 

“Right!” Lo’ak said matter of factly, but shrieked when Neteyam dropped the baskets and ran over to pull his tail. The boys ran around your legs, Kiri laughing maniacally from her safe perch.

Your eyes slid to Jake so see him already looking at you with a content and joyful smile. 

-

“Gah,” you groaned, the ache growing along your lower back. 

You had been trying for the past few hours to redo your hair since the growth had pushed the braids away from your scalp, making your baby hairs stick up and annoying you to no end. You knew your tired body would struggle to withstand the hours of contorted arms it took to braid your hair, but it bothered you too much to let it go undone. 

You had really only managed to finish braiding about half of your head when Jake ducked into the kelku, surprisingly alone. 

“Where are the children?” you asked, concerned. Mo’at had offered to take them off of your hands for the day while Jake led a hunt with some of the other warriors and you rode with them.

“Mo’at had them all asleep when I got there, said they could stay the night if we wanted,” Jake said, unlatching his cumberbund and his knife sheath and hanging them on the wood carved hooks on the wall.

“That was kind of her,” you murmured, hands still twisting strands of hair into a braid. Your back and legs dully ached as you sat uncomfortably.

“She must have put them to work. They were snoring like an Angstik, you should have heard them,” he chuckled, sitting down beside you and you noticed he was holding a length of string and a berry sized orange pebble in the palm of his hand. 

“What’s that?” you asked, tying off the braid you finished and putting your arms down to rest.

“A pebble I found at the river the day Neteyam named her,” he said, holding the rock up so you could see. “I thought I would make it into a bead or totem for Baby Tuktirey’s songchord.”

“It is perfect, Ma’Jake,” you smiled, and he nodded, happy that you approved. He took the string and looped it several times around the rock before creating a tight knot. You got back to work too, your tired arms and aching back screaming in protest.

“You look uncomfortable,” Jake said, noticing you wince. He lowered the craft in his hands and turned the full force of his attention on you.

“My back is killing me, the baby does not want me to have nice hair,” you complained, pouting as you already gave up on the braid you had barely started.

“Let me do it,” he suggested, laying down the pebble and rising to his knees to scoot closer to you.

“No Ma’jake, you braid like a child,” you groaned.

“Hey!” Jake exclaimed, gently flicking you on the shoulder. “You were the one to teach me.”

“And I must be a bad teacher,” you admitted.

“You are an excellent teacher, let me prove it to you,” he offered, taking up a section of your hair and combing through it with the small bone comb you had sitting by your side.

“Fine,” you relented, “But you’re on laundry duty if it is bad,”

“I’m already on laundry duty,” he lilted and you rolled your eyes. He had taken nearly every chore possible out of your hands as soon as Mo’at confirmed the pregnancy. You were lucky that his Olo’eyktan duties took up so much of his day because he would have probably not let you out of bed if he was not so busy.

As his fingers tightly wound each section into braids, your eyes drifted closed at the sensation. As a mother, you were always so busy taking care of everyone else, but Jake never let you go long without doing something for you. Even if it was just distracting the kids for an hour so you could breathe, he always made sure you had space to be your own person too. You hoped you did the same for him, you always tried your best.

“Are you nervous this time?” he asked quietly, not wanting to disrupt the silence too much. It was precious to you both.

You knew what he was speaking of. You had been so scared of birthing Lo’ak after the trauma of Neteyam’s arrival. Neytiri had been so strong and surefooted, if she couldn't survive it, what hope was there for you? You had thrown up repeatedly in the days leading up to going into labor and it had nothing to do with the physical toil of pregnancy. 

Neytiri’s eyes and last breaths were still stuck in your mind years later. You were terrified of something going wrong.

You had refused to give birth in the metal can that was Norm’s lab, but you had requested that Max and the other scientists with medical training be there in case something happened. It was a rocky seven hours of labor, the pain excruciating and seemingly neverending. 

Jake had held your hand through all of it, never leaving your side once. You knew he was deeply scared from what had happened with his first mate, he had told you as much, but even the blind could see it. He had fretted over every move you made for months leading up to the birth. He had refused to leave your side and forced you to go have checkups with Max every few days in the weeks prior.

“Yes,” you admitted and it felt like a bruise being poked. 

“Me too,” he agreed, “I know that what happened to her wasn't in my control, and if Eywa decided to take her, it was her time. But even all these years later I still feel so… so heavy about it. Like if I had just been there… maybe…” he trailed off and your heart sank.

“No Ma’Jake,” you denied, “I was there, and I can tell you for certain there was nothing anyone could have done. What happened is in the past. We cannot change it however much we wish to, so we can not dwell on what we did or did not do.” You affirmed, feeling the gentle tug on your scalp as he tied off a braid.

“You did not know she was so close to giving birth, or you would have never left. We all know that, you are not to blame,” you continued, hoping your words were a comfort.

“I know, I’m just terrified that something will go wrong again. I can’t lose you, I can’t go through losing my mate again,” he muttered and even without seeing his face, you knew he had started crying.

You turned toward him, reaching your arms around his neck and pulling him to you. His grip fell away from the braid he was working on and found your body instead, wrapping his arms around your torso as he buried his face in your neck.

“I will be okay. I am not going anywhere, Yawnetu,” you whispered to him.

“This baby is a blessing,” he murmured, as if reminding himself.

“This family is our fortress, Jake. We are only making it stronger,” you added as you pulled away to wipe the tears from his eyes with your thumbs. He nodded, eyes closed as you framed his face in your hands.

“I see you, Jake,” you said, tears threatening to fall on your own face, “You are not alone.”

His golden eyes opened to you, “I see you, baby. I love you.”

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Ashes Do Not Pray (Part 2)

Mission after mission, Neteyam looked for your trace. And mission after mission, he was reminded of his failure. Your traces had faded over the years, and so had the hope of finding you.

He was half relieved and half terrified that he had not found you yet. He was afraid to find you as a lifeless body.

Does she have a warm shelter?

Does she have fresh fruits to eat?

Does she know how to patch herself up?

Does she know how much I need her here, by my side?

His mother had ordered him not to follow you on the day you left. She said you were a lost cause and that you would only drag him and the village down with your presence. Neteyam, ever the Golden Boy that he was and still is, had listened to his mother. And that was his biggest regret. Had he followed you, you might still be lingering at the edge of the Omatikaya village, breaking record after record of pebble juggling. You would probably have reached a thousand by now. You would probably have passed the Iknimaya with him. You would probably be pranking him with new inventions. Had he chosen to be himself, just Neteyam, instead of his mother’s son, instead of the Golden Child for just once, he would still have you.

“It is a new kind of mission. Escort the Windtrader’s gondolas.”

Focus, Neteyam, he chided himself. You are a full-fledged warrior now. Your people are relying on you.

“Escort the windtraders?”

The Tlalim clan had never really asked for the Omatikaya’s aid before. They only asked for trades.

“Why do they need an escort? They have never needed it before, so why now?” Neteyam asked his senior.

“The Mangkwang raiders have grown more vicious,” Tarsem, the senior warrior, answered.

“How so?” Neteyam pressed further as his brow ridge tightened.

“The Tlalim did not give us the specifics,” Tarsem said as he rubbed his forehead.

“Why are they being difficult even though they are asking us for aid?” Another warrior spoke up.

Tarsem sighed heavily. “None of those who witnessed the Mangkwang raid made it out alive.”

“Oh, finally a real threat? Good.” One of the younger warriors grinned and gripped his spear. “I was getting bored with these boring missions. Finally, a real challenge.”

“And none of the corpses have kurus,” Tarsem finished coldly.

The grin vanished from the young warrior’s face instantly. The briefing circle fell into dead silence. Dread was visible on everyone’s faces, even the senior warriors. Neteyam’s eyes darkened.

To have one’s kuru cut was worse than death.

“Neteyam, you are one of the best we have. Good beyond your years. I am assigning you to back the senior up.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is incredibly dangerous, so you should focus on being the lookout. Let your seniors take care of the main part.”

“…Understood.”

He hated it. He hated that those seniors treated him like his life mattered more than other warriors just because he was Toruk Makto’s son, just because he was the Olo’eyktan’s successor. He wanted to serve the People, but they kept him on a short leash, always relegating him to the safety of the perimeter while others did the bleeding.

“Get enough sleep. We dispatch before the sun rises.”

.

.

.

He had been on his ikran for two nights now and was heading into the third. The caravan was moving toward the Cloud Mountain. So far, there was no sign of anything suspicious. He rested his eyes for a moment. The main danger zone would be when the caravan had to go through the strait near the volcano. That was where those savages, the Mangkwang, resided. He gazed at the other warriors who were resting. He sighed as he closed his eyes again. He needed to conserve his energy for the big fight.

Thwiip-thud.

His eyes shot open.

Arrow? Where is the shooter? Where did the arrow pierce?

He scanned the area. “We are shot!” He shouted to alert the other warriors. “They shot the Medusoid!!”

Whoever shot the arrow knew exactly what they were doing. The gondola was too heavy for the escort to help carry. They could raid the goods easily now. As for the people on board, there was no way the warriors could help all of them in time.

The next arrow plunged into the Windray and set it on fire.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

He needed to find the shooter’s location, or else there was no hope for anyone making it out alive. He scanned the slopes. The fire from the Windray was starting to churn out dark and cloudy smoke. The Windpeople were crying for help.

Where are they? Come on out.

Ah. There.

By that mountainside. Covering themselves with ashes to blend into the rock? Clever. And to ambush them out of their territory? Reckless and bold but still clever.

Focus on being the lookout. Tarsem’s order echoed in his head.

Neteyam gripped his bow. The others were pinned down, trying to save the civilians. If he stayed hidden as a lookout, his squad would be slaughtered by the unseen archers.

He had to draw their fire.

He shot three consecutive arrows back in their direction. Neteyam was an excellent shooter. He was even better at ikran riding, which was second only to his mother, Neytiri.

The arrows struck true. He saw the figure jerk back before disappearing behind the rock. He knew he had hit the target, but he did not know if the enemy had moved fast enough to turn a fatal shot into a mere flesh wound.

He waited and mentally counted down. From the distance and trajectory, it should take ten heartbeats for the arrows to reach the target and another ten or so for him to be responded to with an arrow. He needed to see if they would fire back. If they did, he would have to commit to a full arrow fight. If they did not, he could assume the job was finished and move to help the merchants.

12, 13, 14, 15, 16…

No counterattack. He must have hit the bullseye. As he always did.

Suddenly, a weird-looking flaming arrow flew into view. It was heavy and moved more slowly than a standard arrow. He dodged it easily.

BOOM.

The arrow exploded into a colorful array of lights.

It was a firecracker arrow.

The sudden flash of blinding colors burned into his retinas and left him completely sightless for a terrifying second. His ikran’s left wing was blown thoroughly apart. The beast screeched in pain and clawed the air to stay afloat, but gravity took hold. He was being pulled down by the dead weight of his mount. He unbuckled from his saddle.

The next thing he realized was that he was free-falling with his heart in his throat.

He looked up through the smoke. A figure on an ikran, painted blood crimson, obsidian black, and ash white, drove down just above him. The rider was diving in sync with his fall.

Neteyam could see the rider’s eyes staring straight into his.

The ground rushed up to meet him.

Right before he hit the dirt, the rider’s ikran snatched him out of the air. Its talons clamped around his waist. It lowered him aggressively to the ground and slammed him into the dirt.

The impact knocked the wind out of him. The beast hopped off his chest but remained close. It hovered over him like a dark storm cloud and dared him to move.

The figure slid off the saddle and landed on the forest floor with a heavy thud.

“You shot my ikran. Your ikran paid for that.”

The figure spoke up as she walked toward him. Neteyam tried to get up, but the enemy ikran snarled and shoved its snout into his chest. It knocked him back into the dirt and kept him there with a warning growl. His arrows had fallen out of his quiver during the crash and littered the forest floor with none within reach.

“You shot my arm. Your kin will pay for that.”

Her voice was cold but laced with pain.

The word kin hit him harder than the kick. To a Sully, family was the heartbeat of the world. To hear it used as a currency for revenge made his blood run cold.

The raider looked at the arrow plunged deep into her bicep. The pain must have been blinding, yet she did not scream. She did not panic. She gripped the shaft. But she did not pull it out.

With a sickening grunt, she drove the arrow deeper into her own flesh. She pushed it down until the fletching was buried against the entry wound to act as a plug. She hissed in agony but did not stop until the blood flow was stanched by the feathers. Then she snapped the protruding end of the shaft.

Snap.

Neteyam froze. It was efficient. Brutal. It was the way his father treated wounds. Where did she learn that?

“I was defending a trade route!” Neteyam roared as he tried to ignore the throbbing in his shoulders. “You are the ones raiding innocent lives!”

“Innocence is a luxury for those with full bellies, Omatikaya,” she spat. She buckled for a split second as her wounded leg gave way, revealing a second arrow lodged in her shin. But she snarled and forced herself to stand. “You shot my leg. Your lover will pay for that.”

Neteyam gritted his teeth. His bow, which he had carved with his own hands after his Iknimaya, lay broken in half nearby. He was calculating a way out. His fingers inched toward the knife at his hip.

The threat did not land with the same weight as the one against his kin. He was spoken for, sure. It was an arrangement for the future Olo’eyktan, but there was no heart in it. No face flashed in his mind to fear for, not like the one he lost years ago. He kept his demeanor coiled and tight while revealing nothing.

“Ah ah ah,” the raider chimed while biting back a cry from her own burns. “Break his shoulders.”

She signaled her ikran. The beast obeyed instantly. It slammed its talons onto his shoulders to pin him down. The weight crushed him into the soil. Neteyam gasped as his vision whitened. A ragged, guttural groan tore from his throat as his arms fell uselessly to the dirt.

The ikran stepped back. It knew he was in no position to counter or escape now.

“Good. Conserve your voice. You will need it when I ask of your kin and your lover.”

It took a while for him to come back from the excruciating throb in his shoulders.

“Like hell I would,” he croaked. Despite the pain, he still held onto the bravado.

“Ah, good. I was hoping to try this interrogation technique I have just learned.”

“Nothing will make my lips unseal,” he spat out.

“Who said anything about lips?”

Huh?

She swiped her thumb over his bottom lip. It was a dark and confusing caress.

The figure crouched onto him. Her palms came up to cradle his face. He gulped. The act felt intimate. Too intimate.

Her hand snaked around to the back of his head to grab his kuru.

“W…What are you doing?!” He managed to swallow down a choke of panic.

“Oh, you will know soon,” she said as she fished her own kuru up. The pink ends flared into life. They pulsed with a soft and biological heat that made him shudder. It was too intimate, and it evoked a shameful whimper from his throat.

“The mating act is sacred! Not for you to—!” He shouted as he thrashed about and tried to shake her off. He could not push her away. He could not even lift his arms.

Her nails dug into his shoulders and added new layers of pain to the bruised flesh. “Relax. Tsaheylu is not only for mating.”

“My Tsahik, the genius that she is, found a new way to use this Eywa’s blessing in a more… meaningful way.”

He narrowed his eyes. “What meaningful way?”

Their ends of the kuru are linked.

“Torture. Truth extraction.”

SNAP.

She threw her head back and laughed. It was a sharp and jagged sound that echoed with malice.

He withered in pain as his back arched off the damp earth. But he did not scream. The silence was louder than any noise he could have made. The stingbats in the forest flew away from the sheer psychic pressure radiating from him. The pain from his end of the kuru was greater than any physical wound he had ever endured. It flooded the pain receptor gates. The throb in his shoulder was nothing but a light feather touch compared to the neuron overload from the bond.

It felt like she was poking and prodding in his memory like a constant and rusty grating at his grey matter. It was a violation of the mind. It was the Dark Connection. She was tearing through his mental defenses to steal his secrets and invade his soul.

Then suddenly it stopped.

The grating pain vanished. It was replaced by a warm and drowning flood. The connection shifted from invasion to unity. He felt solemn affection. Aching longing. Nostalgia. Homesickness. He felt her heartbeat syncing with his own as if they shared a single chest.

A sudden and searing heat ignited between them. It was not the burn of hatred but the scorching flames of shared desire.

…Neteyam?

The figure croaked out.

No… this… this cannot be.

He forced his eyes open and squinted at the figure above him. Under the ashy white paint and past the self-inflicted scar and past the bone that pierced the nose bridge… it was a familiar face. The one he adored. The one he had looked for everywhere for the past five years.

“Y/n?” he whispered.

The torture in his system was gone in an instant. Only her and his unspoken feelings flowed through the bond. The tsaheylu had shifted. It was not torture anymore. It was something permanent. Something like soul-binding.

Neteyam closed his eyes and was overwhelmed by the additional sensations. He could sense the things you did, and you could sense the things he did. The unified body consciousness was locking them together. The mating bond was snapping into place with the force of a thunderclap.

“This… this was a mistake,” you said breathlessly.

You scrambled back and forcefully ripped the connection apart.

The backlash hit you both like a physical blow. You cried out and clutched your head while Neteyam gasped and his eyes rolled back. It was not a clean break. It was an amputation. It felt like carving a part of the soul out with a dull knife. The agony mirrored perfectly between the two of you.

You mounted your ikran in a panic and took off into the smoke-filled sky.