lortsyall

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 5.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

Pending…Pending…

Date: August 18th,2174.

Location: Unit 1,Avatar Department,Human Outpost Biolab,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 2:40 PM.

There’s something sacred about blood.

Not in the grand, operatic sense humans once clung to. Those anthems of conquest, where sons were marched off to die for flags they barely understood, and fathers raised glasses with hands still sticky from history. Not the kind you find in textbooks, soaked into the soil of fallen empires and stitched into the red threads of banners flapping over land that was never theirs to claim.

That kind of sacred always rang too loud. Too scripted. All noise, no truth.

I mean the quiet kind.

The kind you don’t notice until the world stills,until even your thoughts hush enough to hear your own pulse echoing in your bones. The kind that gathers at the lip of a wound, hesitant, glistening, like it isn’t sure whether to stay and hold you together, or slip away and remind you how fragile you really are.

It gleams under the harsh fluorescents of a lab, under the sterile hum of machines, and still, somehow, it feels warm. It feels real. Personal. Sacred in the way survival always is.

It says: you’re here. You hurt. And you haven’t stopped fighting. That, too, is something holy.

Maybe that’s why this morning feels heavier than it should. There’s a weight to the air I can’t explain,not weather, not science. Just something invisible, pressing down on my chest, refusing to move.

Drawing blood is supposed to be simple. Mechanical. Routine. By now, my hands know what to do before I even ask them.

I’ve done it everywhere: in the back of cryo units, in med tents during storms back home,when time was scarce and pressure was higher. I’ve drawn from soldiers and civilians, from half-conscious scientists and wide-eyed rookies. I’ve even drawn from myself.

But not him.

Never him.

And now the tray in front of me—lined with instruments I could list in my sleep—sits there like a dare I didn’t agree to. Butterfly needle. Vial. Antiseptic. Swab. Gauze. Gloves. Tape. Biohazard bag.

All the cold tools of a job I usually don’t think twice about.

But my hands hover, unmoving. Because nothing about what happened last night fits inside a checklist. Nothing about the way he looked at me, voice soft and tired in the dark, belongs in the world of vials and swabs.

We weren’t supposed to be anything. Not in that common room. Not after curfew. Not when I was curled into the edge of the bed, pretending the ache in my shoulder wasn’t creeping down my arm. Not when he walked in and didn’t leave.

The night unraveled slowly, one thread at a time. I can’t even remember what we started talking about,only that we didn’t stop. Words bled into stories, which bled into silences, and somewhere in between, we stopped trying to leave.

We stayed.

We stayed until the world tilted silver and soft and quiet. Until the sunrise pooled across the floor like a breath we didn’t want to disturb. He stood with a groan, stretching out the stiffness, and I remember thinking…we’ve crossed into something, haven’t we?

I made coffee with bare feet and blurry eyes. It tasted like overthinking. Like a thousand thoughts I didn’t want to name. Bitter. Burnt. Too hot.

He didn’t follow me into the kitchen. His comm buzzed. Morning patrol,assigned to Ekaran. He paused at the threshold, fingers ghosting over the doorframe, his gaze unreadable. Then—

“I’ll see you later.”

He said it like it meant nothing. But it did,and now it’s later. And I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

The soft hum of the central cooling unit is the only sound in the sterile quiet of Unit 1. I’m sitting at the edge of the diagnostics desk, still not entirely present, my fingers absentmindedly brushing the rim of a used coffee mug I haven’t had the heart to clean yet. The taste of the morning is still lingering behind my teeth. Bitter, warm, familiar. My shoulder aches faintly, but it’s dulled now, distant, like everything else since sunrise.

The door opens behind me.

I already know who it is before she speaks—Marie’s footsteps have a clipped rhythm, all purpose and precision. I straighten before I even turn to her, instinct overriding whatever fragile haze I’ve wrapped myself in since he left.

“There you are,” she says, tone brisk but not unkind. “We need samples run before the next meeting. There’s a patrol heading west this evening, and Neteyam’s up for lead. I want his updated markers logged before then.”

The name hits harder than it should. It’s not the first time I’ve heard it today, but something about hearing it from someone else,so casually, like he hasn’t rearranged the entire axis of my brain overnight,makes my stomach tilt.

“Neteyam?” I echo before I can stop myself, too quickly.

Marie raises an eyebrow. “Yes. Why?”

I shake my head, already pivoting toward the supply drawer to cover the flicker in my expression. “Nothing. I’ll take care of it now. Unit 2?”

“Yeah. He’s there—just came in from morning drills. Shouldn’t be long.” She eyes me, this time more carefully. “You look like you didn’t sleep.”

I almost laugh. I didn’t. But I keep my voice neutral. “Shouldn’t take more than five minutes.”

Marie gives a short nod and leaves without another word, already half-focused on her tablet again.

But the moment the door seals shut, I just sit there a second longer,still holding the tray instead of standing. My breath catches on something unspoken. Something that still clings to me, hours after we stood in the kitchen, blinking at each other like strangers who forgot how not to be close.

The hallway outside the medbay is quiet, except for the low hum of overhead lights and the occasional clink of a distant tool tray. I’m halfway to the lab when Marie catches up behind me.

"Wait," she says, not loudly—but enough to stop me in my tracks.

I turn slowly. She’s got her tablet tucked under one arm, a stylus clenched too tightly in one hand. That’s the first sign.

The second is the way she looks at me. Not scanning, not assessing, but staring straight at me like I’ve done something wrong. Like she’s trying not to be pissed about it.

"You didn’t say anything about your shoulder."

I blink. The silence stretches just long enough to be uncomfortable.

"Neteyam mentioned it on patrol comms," she adds, her voice tight. "Said you were favoring it. That you looked like you were in pain."

I glance down, as if the joint might suddenly offer a good excuse. "It’s not a big deal," I say quietly. "It just flared up last night. It’s fine now,might be the Flux Vortex-"

"That's not the point," she snaps, and then immediately softens her tone, like she regrets how fast it came out. "God—look, I’m not mad. I just—why didn’t you tell me?"

There’s a pause where I know I should say something logical. Something clean. But all I can do is shrug with the one shoulder that doesn’t sting.

"I didn’t want to make it a thing," I say eventually. "It was late. We were just talking. I forgot about it."

Marie’s brow furrows like she’s doing the math in her head,and not liking the answer.

"You forgot about an injury that’s been plaguing you since Earth? Come on."

I don’t respond.

Her eyes scan my face, looking for something she can file away, chart, treat. But the truth is more nebulous than she’s trained to handle. The truth is: it only really started hurting again after I let myself feel safe. After the adrenaline wore off. After he left.

Marie sighs. Her grip loosens on the stylus.

"You're not invincible, you know. Just because you can patch others up doesn’t mean you're exempt from being cared for."

That lands harder than I expect.

I nod, slow. "I know."

She holds my gaze for a second longer, then gestures toward the lab.

"Just—at least let me run a scan later, alright? I don’t want to hear about this through secondhand patrol chatter again."

"Deal."

Marie turns and walks ahead, already tapping something into her tablet, but I can feel the shift in her energy. The way she watches me now. Closer. Sharper. Like she’s starting to realize just how good I am at hiding pain.

And for the first time in a while, I wonder if that’s actually a skill… or just a really bad habit I learned too well.

The door to Unit 2 slides open with a familiar hiss, and the cold air brushes past my legs as I step inside. I’m balancing a tray in one hand—needle, swab, antiseptic, vial, gloves—all in place, all standard. Still, I’m gripping it a little tighter than usual. Maybe because I know who’s waiting.

Neteyam is already seated at the edge of the workbench, one foot dangling off the side, the other braced on the floor. His posture is loose, but his ears twitch at the sound of the door. His braids are still damp from this morning’s patrol, drops of water trailing along his shoulders before sliding down his chest. He doesn’t turn around right away.

“I figured it’d be you,” he says, voice smooth, a little smug.

I let the door shut behind me and walk in, setting the tray down on the nearby counter. “Marie almost came herself. She said something about making sure you didn’t ‘pull a Neteyam.’”

He huffs out a quiet laugh. “What does that even mean?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” I say, peeling on a glove. “Maybe the part where you skipped your last draw, told Norm you ‘forgot,’ and then vanished into the canopy for four days?”

“That was one time,” he mutters, finally looking over his shoulder.

“And yet somehow, it lives on in legend.”

He turns fully now, and for a second we just… pause. Not dramatic, just enough to register that we’re alone. Again. His eyes drag down to the tray like he’s pretending to care about the tools I’m lining up. “Early patrol wasn’t bad,” he says, shifting the topic. “Saw a few fresh tracks on the east ridge, but nothing worth chasing.”

“I know.” I say, glancing at him. “Didn’t think they’d call you in that early.”

He shrugs. “Didn’t really mind.”

I wet the swab with antiseptic. My hands are steady now. Just focused. “And thanks,” I add, quieter this time. “For mentioning my shoulder to Marie. You didn’t have to.”

He lifts an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “She asked.”

“Still. You could’ve just said I was tired or cranky or hiding in the ducts again.”

He smirks. “You weren’t?”

“Not this time.”

I step closer and take his arm, fingers brushing the warm skin of his inner elbow as I smooth it out. He watches me the whole time, unbothered, clearly amused.

“Your hands are always this cold?” he asks, playful.

“They get cold when someone makes me stand in a freezing lab.”

“Or maybe you’re just nervous,” he says, cocking his head.

“I’m not.”

“You sure?”

I give him a look, but I can’t help the small smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. “You’re not exactly the easiest patient.”

“I’m charming,” he counters.

“You’re a pain.”

“Same thing.”

He leans in slightly, eyes dropping to my neck for just a moment before flicking back up.

“You still smell like coffee,” he murmurs. “I almost stayed for that.”

The words are soft but confident, like he knows exactly what they’ll do to me. I pause, holding the needle just before insertion.

“I know,” I say. “You hovered in the doorway for a good five seconds.”

“Could’ve sworn you noticed.”

“I did.”

The moment lingers,just long enough for the air to shift.

“Should I have stayed?” he asks, voice lower now.

I look up, meeting his gaze. “I don't think you could've,but...yeah. Except it would’ve been a crowded kitchen.”

“I don’t mind crowded.”

“Needle going in,” I mutter, because if I say anything else, I might actually answer that question.

The needle slips in clean, and he doesn’t flinch. Just watches me while the vial begins to fill, blood drawing down slow and steady. His expression softens, just slightly, like maybe he wasn’t expecting the moment to feel this quiet. This normal.

Then—

The door slams open with a sharp hiss.

“There you two are,” Marie announces, already halfway into the room. She’s tapping her tablet fast, stylus clacking against the glass as she scrolls through what looks like some kind of deployment map.

I take a step back from Neteyam’s arm, pulling the needle and capping the vial in one smooth motion.

“Meeting’s in five,” she says, not looking up. “Something about potential relocation. Jake’s pacing like it’s 2169 again.”

Neteyam straightens, frowning. “Relocation where?”

Marie doesn’t pause, just keeps moving. “Hell’s Gate.”

My stomach drops.

He goes still beside me, tail flicking once, sharp and fast.

“You’re kidding,” I say, trying to keep my tone even.

Marie glances up then, eyes flicking between the two of us like she’s only just now noticing the air in the room. “Wish I was. You better both get moving. We don’t have time to drag our feet.”

Then she’s gone, already heading toward the command center.

Neteyam exhales, slow and sharp. “Hell’s Gate,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to me. “Of all places.”

I nod slowly. “Yeah. That’s… going to be fun.”

For a moment, we don’t say anything. We just stand there, side by side, the vial of blood cooling between my fingers, the weight of that name hanging in the room like a storm waiting to break.

The command center hums with a low, unrelenting current, the kind that does not come from faulty wiring or overlapping schedules but from something unspoken that has already settled into every person in the room. It vibrates through the silence like a held breath that no one dares release. The tension is not frantic. It is quiet and absolute, rooted in something everyone already knows, even if no one has put words to it yet.

The doors close behind us with a pressurized hiss, sealing us inside.

Jake Sully stands near the central console, unmoving, one hand pressed flat against the corner of the panel as though he is bracing for impact. His body is so still it could pass for sculpture. Marie stands next to him, fingers flying across the holographic interface, flipping through terrain schematics, signal logs, pressure readings. Her hands are fast, but her eyes betray her. They are distant, unfocused, as if she is listening to something no one else can hear.

Kiri leans against the holo-table, arms crossed, her mouth drawn tight as if biting down on words she knows better than to speak. On the right side of the room, Norm stares into a blinking array of monitors, his face dimly lit in green-blue glow. He looks exhausted in the way that is more than physical. His shoulders are drawn high, his neck tense. The last time I saw him like this was the day the northeast outpost fell.

In the center of the room, the main projection glitches once, distorting the terrain into a jagged blur before resolving into a recognizable shape. A ridgeline. A valley. Sharp corners and faded detail. Even distorted, it is familiar. Too familiar.

Hell’s Gate.

Even the ghost of it sends a shift through the room, a collective tightening of posture and breath. No one speaks.

Jake finally does.

"There was a drone breach. Four clicks west of the cliffs, along the southern ridge."

He does not raise his voice. He does not explain or soften. The words drop into the room like a stone into a still pool, and everyone reacts in the subtle ways that people do when they already know what comes next.

Norm glances at his tablet, frowns, and looks up.

"Could be an old sweep drone that got pulled back online. Sometimes a surge hits one of the buried relays and reboots the flight subroutines. No human operator, just corrupted behavior memory."

Jake’s gaze lifts.

"This one tracked movement. It changed elevation three times. It adjusted its route when So'lek's group crossed the canopy line."

The room reacts to that. Kiri straightens. Norm’s fingers pause on the tablet. The silence sharpens.

"So'lek was patrolling along the Sarentu border? There are no active scan zones anywhere near that route."

Jake nods.

"There were not supposed to be. But they were not alone. Etuwa was with them."

The name hangs in the air with quiet weight.

"She was returning from a summit with the Aranahe. She asked So'lek to accompany her back through the valley after their final meeting."

Marie looks up quickly.

"Etuwa left the summit site? I thought she never traveled without a full escort."

"She brought one. So'lek and two scouts. They were rerouting through the lowland basin because the river pass was unstable after last week’s rockfall."

Kiri’s voice lowers.

"What about Priya?"

Jake’s expression changes, almost imperceptibly, but I see it.

"She was leading the unit. The summit was her initiative. She had been negotiating with Etuwa directly for over a month."

I feel my breath hitch.

Priya.

Born in Thailand. Trained as a biologist. Rejected from the first RDA mission but made it onto the second through sheer will and the kind of brilliance no one could ignore. She had come to Pandora dreaming of cataloging alien ecosystems and rewriting the textbooks. I still remember the way she lit up when she talked about roots and spores, how she could make chlorophyll sound like poetry.

She started in botany, working on applications for Pandoran flora that might help restore Earth’s ruined soil. But it did not take her long to see the cracks in the mission. The way the RDA operated here reminded her of Earth’s worst mistakes. She used to say that if history repeats itself, it tends to do so louder the second time. Eventually, she defected. She joined the Resistance and earned Jake’s trust so fully that he placed her in charge of operations across the entire Western Frontier.

Jake continues, his voice harder now.

"They were returning on foot. Last comms showed clean signal. At zero four hundred hours, the breach occurred. The feed died twenty seconds later. So’lek and Etuwa made it to shelter. Priya did not."

Marie closes her eyes for a beat. Her hand stills. No one else moves.

"Was it the same drone?"

"Same signal. Modified RDA frame. Fast and quiet. Programmed for reconnaissance and disruption. Not officially recorded. We believe it was a ghostload."

The word silences the room completely. Kiri lowers her head.

"If the Aranahe believe this was deliberate, they will walk."

"They are already retreating," Jake says. "They have ceased all supply transfers past the eastern divide. Etuwa is furious, but she is not pushing them. Not after this."

Marie looks toward the projection.

"So we evacuate this site, and relocate. Somewhere fortified."

Jake does not answer with words. He gestures toward the map, and the view shifts. Hell’s Gate appears again. The image is glitchy, half-erased by time and weather damage, but the structure is still there.

"It remains defensible," he says. "The outer barricades are weak, but the interior corridors have survived. We ran seismic scans last year. Power cores are buried under thick shielding. If we can reinforce the central shell, we gain shelter. Medical support. Visibility. And control."

Marie turns toward me.

"And the firewall."

Jake meets my eyes now.

"Latchkey is still embedded in the base’s substructure."

The name brings a flush of cold through my veins.

Marie speaks calmly, but I can feel the weight behind her words.

"You broke it once. On Earth. Level seven breach. No anchor,no backup,no trace. You reached core logic without triggering a shutdown."

I start to speak.

"It was not planned. I was not even supposed to be there. I was curious, I followed a trace—"

"You followed it deeper than anyone else ever has," Marie says.

Jake folds his arms.

"We need that access. If anything remains alive inside the original operating system, we must recover it. Adapt it. Repurpose it."

The silence afterward is not gentle. It pulses like pressure beneath the skin. Neteyam steps forward slightly. His voice is quiet, but the moment he speaks, the entire room seems to register him.

"She is not military."

Jake does not flinch.

"She will not be alone."

Marie nods once.

"You will accompany her. You know the terrain. You know the tunnels. You have walked the land between the Aranahe and Sarentu since before either of them trusted us."

Jake turns back to the holo-map.

"Recon assignments are being uploaded to your slates. We move before sunrise."

The room begins to shift. The meeting ends not with a final word, but with the unraveling of held breath. Kiri leaves first, fast and focused. Norm lingers only long enough to finish uploading his logs. Jake and Marie remain by the console, already murmuring about fallback beacons and tunnel grid density.

But I stay where I am.

So does Neteyam.

The hallway curves around me like a mouth beginning to close, and I move through it as if I’ve forgotten how I got here. Not with purpose. Not even with panic. Just momentum. The lights overhead buzz faintly, flickering in and out like a signal struggling to reach the surface. I don’t stop until I hit the bend just before Unit 3, the place where the ceiling dips slightly lower and the shadows cling longer. The air feels wrong here. Not dangerous. Just... off. Like it's been sitting still too long, waiting for something to stir.

I stop walking.

It doesn’t feel like a choice. My body just folds in on itself, some internal threshold finally crossed. I lean back against the cool metal wall like I’m surrendering to gravity, and the tray in my hands tilts slightly, catching the artificial light as it shifts. Blood draw kit. Sealed vials. A swab tinged with dried antiseptic. One vial labeled with Neteyam’s name in tight black print.

I haven’t let go of it. Not since the lab. Even though there’s no reason to still be holding it.

My fingers are locked around the tray’s edge like I’m clinging to the last solid thing in my orbit, like if I loosen my grip, something deeper than glass will break. I close my eyes for a second and press the back of my wrist to my forehead.

And then I say it in my mind again.

Marie knew.

But she couldn’t have. She shouldn’t have.

That file was erased. The breach was masked, wrapped in layers of obfuscation protocols and decoy paths designed to look like nothing at all. The kind of trace that disappears into static, invisible even to the back-end monitors. Latchkey was designed to vanish if touched. A self-sinking ship. But somehow, I found it. And I didn’t just open it. I understood it. Or at least enough to know what I wasn’t supposed to know.

It wasn’t a file, not really. It was a map. Movements scrubbed from official deployment records. Locations that don’t exist anymore—shouldn’t exist. Supply chains rerouted through thin air. And a hidden name buried in the metadata like rot in the foundation: The Vault. Nestled under coordinates I recognized immediately.

Hell’s Gate.

I told no one. I wiped every trace. I wrote a false script to mask the intrusion and buried the original logs in a forgotten sector of the system. I left the lab with clean hands and a quiet mind.

And now she knows.

Which means someone has been watching. Maybe since Earth. Maybe before. Maybe I was never anonymous here. Maybe they’ve been dragging me through every rotation and reassignment like a chess piece with no idea she’s already in check.

My fingers seize around the tray. I can’t breathe right. My heart doesn’t pound, it throbs—tight, internal pressure with no release valve.

Then it slips.

The tray tumbles from my hands in one sharp motion, hitting the floor with a sound too loud for how quiet this hall is. A metallic clatter and the shattering crack of glass. The vial bounces once, then splits. Neteyam’s blood arcs out in a spray, vivid red against dull grey tile. It trickles toward the wall, settling into the seams of the floor, bleeding like a map to nowhere.

I stare at it.

And the spiral begins.

It doesn’t come with gasps or cries. Just a wave of heat, rising slow and sticky up my spine, crawling across the inside of my skull like a warning. My hands shake as I drop to my knees. I’m moving too fast, too rough, gathering the glass with bare fingers, needing to fix something, anything. I don't even feel the sting at first—just the warmth, the wet slide of blood across my palm. Mine, this time.

I freeze. Look down.

The cut is small. Shallow. But the blood wells up anyway, curling from my skin in a smooth ribbon before gravity takes it. It glistens next to the last droplets of Neteyam’s blood still clinging to the tile. They mix faintly. Two shades of red. One known. One discovered by accident.

It hits me like a whisper I wasn’t ready to hear.

I’m here. I hurt. I bleed. And someone saw.

I don’t notice the footsteps until they stop.

Just a few feet away. The space shifts like air being displaced, and then I feel him there before I hear his voice.

“You’re bleeding,” Neteyam says softly.

His voice lands like a touch—light, but certain. Not alarmed. Not cold. A quiet kind of concern. The kind that slips past all your armor before you can raise a defense.

I lift my head.

He’s standing just beyond the edge of the spilled blood, eyes shadowed under the flickering lights, shoulders still set from the tension of the last hour but looser now. His gaze flickers from the floor to my hand, then back to my face. And then it lingers. Longer than it should. Longer than anyone else ever looks when they see me like this.

His brows draw together.

“I’m fine,” I say, voice barely there.

“You’re not.”

“I can handle it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.”

Something in my chest goes taut. I look down again, watching my blood curve around the edge of the tray.

He crouches slowly, one knee on the ground, and reaches into the satchel at his side. Pulls out a thin strip of cloth—clean, folded, torn from the edge of something once purposeful. He doesn’t ask for permission. He just takes my hand gently in his, turning it over, studying the cut with a focus that feels too intimate for the moment.

His fingers are warm.

Callused, but gentle.

He begins wrapping the cloth around the wound, slow and deliberate. Each motion is quiet. Like a ritual. His brow furrows slightly as he knots the fabric—not too tight, but snug. He doesn’t speak. Doesn’t ask why I’m out here or why the vial shattered. His silence holds the shape of trust.

Our eyes meet.

He doesn’t look away.

There’s something in his gaze that unsettles me—not judgment, not pity. It’s something slower. Something raw and impossible to name. He looks at me like he’s seeing everything at once—what I’ve done, what I’ve hidden, and what I don’t even know about myself yet.

I can’t hold it.

“Was it real?” I ask.

He blinks once, but says nothing.

“What you said… about Eywa sending me. Was that real? Or was that just a story someone fed you to keep me compliant? To get me close enough to crack Latchkey again?”

The words come out brittle. Like they’ve been sitting at the base of my throat waiting for this exact moment to slip free.

Neteyam exhales slowly, the line of his jaw tightening.

“I don’t know what the others planned,” he says finally. “I don’t know who saw what in you first, or how far back it goes. But that doesn’t mean the feeling I had was false.”

I look at him sharply, eyes narrowing. “The feeling?”

“That something bigger led you here,” he says. “That it wasn’t just coincidence. That it wasn’t just them.”

He hesitates. Then adds, “I felt it.”

His voice lowers to something closer to a whisper.

“I don’t say that lightly.”

The silence between us stretches long, then longer still. But neither of us moves. His hand is still on mine. My fingers still curled slightly, as if they remember what it’s like to brace for impact.

“You could have told them,” I murmur. “About the file. About the breach. You had every reason to.”

“I had no reason to,” he says quietly. “Except loyalty. And I wasn’t going to betray that for people who only saw you as a tool.”

I can’t answer. I don’t know how. My throat is tight again, but this time from something else.

His eyes soften. “You don’t have to keep punishing yourself for knowing too much.”

“I’m not punishing myself,” I lie.

“You are. You’ve been carrying it like a weight no one gave you permission to set down.”

My gaze falls to the floor, to the drying red at our feet. I don’t know which blood is his anymore. Which is mine.

“Then what am I supposed to do now?”

He looks at me for a long, long moment.

Then, softly, like he’s offering more than just words—

“You start by letting someone carry it with you.”

And he doesn’t look away. Not this time.

He stays there. With me. In the blood and the silence and the truth.

And I let him.

….

….

….

[UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS LOG // LATCHKEY_08-1B]

…pending… pending… pending… System boot initialized. Secure session override: USER 4.43-ND2 (unauthorized) Access log disabled… Trace scrambling active… Firewall resistance: minimal Latchkey Protocol — standby for breach // Manual intrusion detected… Continue? [Y/N] Y // Confirm override authority… Confirmed

System Timestamp: 2170.05.09 | 02:16:43 EDT Location Node: Underground Archive 6 — New York Sector

// Decryption thread initiated // Core partitions located: LATCHKEY.ALPHA / LATCHKEY.BETA / LATCHKEY.OMEGA // Memory shell breaching… 12%… 36%… 81%… 97%… // Final layer decrypted LATCHKEY CORE: UNLOCKED Welcome, USER 4.43-ND2 Authorization key: [REDACTED] Traceback: RDA Encryption Origin — Project Specter WARNING: Ghostload Protocol deploys in 03:00 begin override:

It’s just past two in the morning when I slip inside, and the server room doesn’t sound like a place—it sounds like a thing with lungs. A low, electrical hum pulses steadily through the walls and floor, rhythmic and deep, like something sleeping too lightly. It should’ve been unsettling, but somehow, there’s a comfort in the quiet thrum—until I remember what I’m doing here, and how wrong it is. Not just illegal. Not just dangerous. But wrong in the way that pulls at your instincts.

I don’t belong here.

Not tonight. Not ever.

I shouldn’t even be seen in this quadrant, let alone behind this locked panel where the outdated servers wheeze like old animals refusing to die. My name isn’t on any official list for this section. My badge has been physically removed from its ID shell and stuffed beneath the torn lining of my jacket, buried to keep my signature from triggering any proximity locators. Every layer of this moment is designed to make me invisible. I’ve erased myself on purpose—voluntarily stripped out of the system like bad code—because sometimes that’s the only way to see the truth: by disappearing from the version they expect.

This wing of the complex barely functions. Half the overhead lights don’t rise above a dim flicker, casting a perpetual 40% glow that makes everything look like it's waiting to be erased. The corridor buzzes every now and then like it’s trying to remind itself it’s still alive. I can see exposed wires near the ceiling, places where ceiling panels hang open like unstitched wounds. Technically, this whole floor is “under remodel.” Unmonitored. Forgotten.

And yet, the machines still breathe.

Barely.

But enough.

Most of the core terminals here haven’t been touched since the Site-26 fallback. They’re half-dead, patched together with desperation and duct tape, whispering heat into the cold recycled air like tired lungs. It smells like metal and burned solder and the kind of static dust that gets into your skin if you stay too long.

No one comes down here unless they’re scrounging parts.

That’s how I found it.

It was nothing. A stub. A misnamed directory deep under a mislabeled log for a corrupted weather anomaly. Junk. Or it should’ve been. I was ready to dismiss it and keep moving, but something about the way it behaved didn’t match the pattern. It responded to touch like a tripwire. Like it was waiting.

It took me thirty hours to get this far.

Thirty hours alone, hunched over a terminal rerouted through an abandoned uplink, piggybacked onto the digital shadow of a field medic’s ID that hasn’t been used in almost twenty years. No comms. No uplinks. No tethered AI assistance. I cut everything. I buried myself. The process wasn’t clean—but it was invisible.

I’ve broken into systems before. I’ve brute-forced encrypted routines, slipped through backend cracks where the protocols were old or forgotten. But this? This was different. This system wasn’t just defended. It was alive. And it didn’t just resist—it watched. Every time I found an in, the pathways shifted. Not to block me. To study me. As though the code itself were learning me in real time, adapting not to keep me out but to see how far I’d go.

And now—this.

A terminal screen reduced to a single blinking line.

A sentence.

White text on black.

YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO SEE THIS.

The words don’t blink in a normal way. They fade. Reappear. Settle. Like they’re not being generated, but delivered. As if they’re anchored from something not quite local. My fingers hang motionless over the keyboard. My chest goes still. I don’t know if I’m breathing anymore. I can hear the blood in my ears, but nothing else—not the room, not the hum, not even my own pulse.

This isn’t just some junk file. This isn’t corrupted data.

It knows I’m here.

I type.

diagnose

The screen erupts into a flood of green text, each line tumbling over the last faster than I can read. Cross-linked IDs. Expired logins. Databases I’ve never seen, marked “scrubbed,” “redacted,” “EXPIRED // NON-RETURNED.” Coordinates flash, then vanish. Deployment chains. Shipping manifests labeled GHOSTLOAD.

I freeze.

That word.

Ghostload.

I’ve heard it only once, murmured in a back hall outside a Systems briefing I wasn’t cleared to attend. Whispers, really. Ghostloads are operations that don’t get logged. Missions with no paperwork. Personnel sent out who don’t come back—and who were never listed to begin with.

The deeper I scroll, the less sense the world makes.

VAULT WEST: STATUS → CLASSIFIED SITE RECORD: NO LONGER EXISTENT LAST ORDER: EXPUNGE RECORD

My throat goes dry. Vault West was supposed to be abandoned, decommissioned, swallowed by jungle rot after the third wave of evacuations. Every log I ever saw said it was shut down. Personnel reassigned. Files erased. But this—this terminal has data from after that date. After the shutdown. After the last known ping.

This isn’t just about hiding a location.

It’s about hiding what happened after the doors closed.

And then—quietly, like a whisper from some cold intelligence behind the screen—more text appears. No timestamp. No signature.

YOU WEREN’T SUPPOSED TO SEE THIS.

Then:

INITIATE RETURN CYCLE TO NODE: HELL’S GATE (VAULT WEST) COMMAND READY.

I stare. The cursor pulses like a heartbeat.

My hand rises,unthinking,toward the kill switch. Not the software. The physical emergency kill wired into the wall behind the terminal. If I pull it, the system dies. Hard shut. No trace. My fingers are trembling now as they skim the housing, looking for the latch. My other hand is flat on the desk, trying to keep me grounded in something real, something solid.

Because whatever this is,it isn’t a ghost.

It isn’t a file. It isn’t a memory. It isn’t a relic of something old.

It’s live.

It’s waiting.

Not locked. Not buried.

Inviting.

And somewhere deep inside me, a voice I don’t recognize whispers:

Don’t follow.

But another part of me—sharper, colder—whispers back:

You already have.

My palm finds the edge of the manual kill switch tucked behind the terminal, the cool metal biting into my skin like a final warning—but I don’t hesitate. Not this time. I wrap my fingers around it and pull hard, the motion swift and absolute, like slamming a door shut on something I wasn’t meant to hear.

The screen dies instantly.

No fade-out.

No failsafe.

No last-minute protest from the system.

Just a sudden, final blackout, followed by the flat mechanical thunk of a circuit severed at the root. For a moment, everything holds its breath. The faint buzzing that had underpinned the room vanishes, and the stillness that takes its place feels thick, unnatural—like the air itself has gone solid, holding its shape around me.

Then, slowly, the cooling unit exhales one last breath of recycled air, a quiet hiss curling through the silence, as if the machine were disappointed. As if it had been watching me all this time and is now forced to let me go.

I don’t move.

Not right away.

I’m still staring at the black mirror of the monitor, my own reflection faint and ghostly in the low light. It’s barely there,just the vague outline of a face too pale, lips slightly parted, eyes wide with something that’s not quite fear but lives somewhere nearby. I look like someone who brushed against a live wire and is still waiting to find out if the current made it to the heart. The kind of quiet that comes before the symptoms.

My brain knows I should leave. Immediately.

Before the power reroutes.

Before the systems ping the outage and someone comes looking.

Before I have to explain why I was here, in a restricted sector, alone, with no clearance and a hollowed-out badge.

But I can’t.

Not yet.

Because something is still humming just beneath my skin—not adrenaline, not panic. It's older than that. More primal. The kind of sensation that crawls out of the base of your spine when you realize you’ve disturbed something meant to stay buried. Like I’ve tripped a wire laid decades ago beneath rotting concrete and overgrown brush, and now some ancient mechanism is creaking to life in the dark, waking up one gear at a time.

I force myself to move.

It’s all reflex now—calculated, clinical. My hand reaches down, snaps open the terminal’s access port. The drive slot releases with a click. I eject the encrypted capsule with a flick of my thumb, catch it before it hits the table, and slip it into the inside lining of my jacket where I’ve stitched a hidden pocket. It slides in smooth, vanishes behind fabric like it was never there. I reseal the lining, press the hem flat.

Then the cleanup begins.

Gloved fingers over every surface I touched—quick swipes to clear the keyboard, the edge of the stool, the metal rim of the table. Even the half-drunk coffee mug sitting beside the terminal gets wiped clean. It’s still warm enough to steam faintly, still ringed with the imprint of my mouth. My DNA. A careless signature in ceramic.

I leave nothing behind.

Every atom in my body is now screaming at me to go.

System reply: ✓ Keymap upload complete ✓ Ghostload protocol neutralized ✓ New firewall identity: SARAT-DEV ✓ All system logs scrubbed ✓ Session 4.43-ND2 purged

I pull my hood up, keep my head down, and slip out of the room like a shadow that's learned how to walk. My footsteps are soft, deliberate, landing in the spaces between sound. The corridor is silent, dim. The same half-dead lights flicker overhead. I pass through them without flinching. Past the busted panel near the stairwell, down two flights without touching the railing. I bypass the elevators entirely—too risky, too traceable—and let muscle memory guide me.

When I reach the dorm level, I stop just before the door.

It’s quiet inside.

Dark.

The faintest blue light pulses from someone’s monitor on the far side of the barracks. No footsteps. No voices. No signs of movement. No one saw me leave. No one is awake enough to notice me return.

I swipe in.

Slip through the threshold.

My bunk welcomes me like nothing happened.

I sit on the edge for a moment, still wearing the jacket, the weight of the capsule pressing like a secret against my ribs. I don’t take it off. I don’t touch it. I just lie back slowly, eyes open, arms crossed over my chest like I’m trying to hold something in.

The ceiling stares down, blank and gray.

I count the seconds by the pulse in my throat.

One.

Two.

Three.

I should report it.

That’s what protocol says. What I signed my name beneath in the ink of contracts and NDAs. I should log the breach, initiate a containment check, alert command, scrub the drive, and hand it over before the firewall watchdogs notice the data stream and flag my activity. I should bury what I saw behind layers of red tape and pretend I never even scratched the surface.

But I don’t.

Because deep down—somewhere behind the fear, the guilt, the training—there’s a part of me that wants to know. A part that needs to understand what that signal was, who sent it, and why it was waiting for someone like me to find it. And that part of me knows that if I turn it over now, it’ll vanish. They’ll bury it deeper. Rewrite it. Maybe even erase me with it. And I’ll never know where that thread really leads.

And that stubborn, furious part of me—small but still burning, still breathing, still alive—refuses to give up that chance.

So I stay still.

And quiet.

And wait.

I close my eyes and pretend, just for a little while, that I didn’t just touch something vast and watching and awake,something that may have blinked once, softly, in the dark...

...and blinked back.

[lortsyall]

Update!

Hi everyone!

I know it’s been a while since I posted Chapter 4 of Echoes of Eywa’s Child, and I already miss those all-night writing sessions and the winter break vibes. Right now, I’m completely drowning in formulas—linear algebra and chemistry are taking over my life!

My exams start this Thursday and will wrap up next month on February 11th. I’m really hoping to squeeze in some writing time before then. If not, I’ll definitely dive back into Chapter 5 during the semester break.

Until then, I wish you all the best! Have a wonderful life, and good luck to everyone else tackling their finals! 💙

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 4.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

author's note: Happy New Year, everyone! I hope 2025 brings you everything you wish for and more! I had a blast writing this chapter, and I’m so excited for you all to dive into it. But, as always, my exams are calling my name, so I’ll be back when I can. In the meantime, enjoy this chapter! ✨

Pending…Pending…

Date: August 17th,2174.

Location: Sully Marui,High Camp,Mons Veritatis,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 1:28AM.

The stars always had a way of making me feel small. Not in a bad way, though—more like I was part of something much bigger, something infinite. My father once told me which one of those stars was Earth. He’d pointed it out during one of our rare quiet moments together, his voice low and steady, full of memories he didn’t share often.

“That’s Earth,” he’d said, his hand resting on my shoulder. “Where I came from. Where humans come from.”

I remember staring at the tiny dot of light, so far away, and thinking how strange it was that my blood carried a piece of that place. That tiny, distant star was supposed to be part of me, part of my story.

But I never felt it.

I never wanted to feel it.

The idea that I was part human always left a bitter taste in my mouth. It wasn’t shame exactly, more like... rejection. Like if I didn’t think about it, it wouldn’t be true. I could just be Na’vi. Fully Na’vi. The son of Toruk Makto, the son of the People. Not this... mix, this in-between thing that didn’t quite fit anywhere.

I think that’s why her words hit me the way they did.

“I don’t belong here,” she’d said last night, her voice so quiet it was almost swallowed by the darkness around us.

I understood that. Too well.

I’d felt it the moment we arrived in Awa’atlu, surrounded by the sea clan with their skeptical eyes and quiet whispers. I’d been the golden boy back in the forest, the future Olo’eyktan, the one who had it all figured out. But in the reef, I was a stranger. A fish out of water. Literally.

For the first time in my life, I wasn’t enough. Not strong enough, not skilled enough, not... enough.

I’d see it in their eyes sometimes, the Metkayina. That subtle shift when they looked at me. The respect was still there,yet the feeling lingered. Like I didn’t quite belong, no matter how hard I tried.

And now, here I was again, caught between worlds.

She reminded me of myself back then. That restless energy, that sharp defensiveness. She was trying so hard to figure out where she fit, just like I had. But she didn’t see what I saw in her: a spark, something unyielding, like she’d find her place no matter what it took.

That scared me, I think. The way I found myself wanting to be part of her story, wanting to help her figure it out. She wasn’t like anyone else I’d met.

She was... different.

And that terrified me.

Because I didn’t know what to do with that. Didn’t know how to handle the way my thoughts kept circling back to her, the way I noticed every little detail about her. The curve of her lips when she was annoyed. How she got so mad at me when I saved her,and I couldn’t help but feel amused,thanks to her fiery nature.

It was distracting, and I didn’t like being distracted.

I sighed, running a hand through my braids as I stared up at the stars again. The night was quiet, the village still. Somewhere in the distance, the soft hum of the forest blended with the faint whispers of the breeze.

I told myself to stop thinking about her. We’ve known each other for what,a few weeks?That is,if you count the fact that I didn’t see her for some time after the first ambush when Eywa sent the atokirina her way.

 I need to focus. To focus on the tasks ahead, on my duty to my people, to my father. But it was harder than I wanted to admit.

Because she wasn’t just in my head anymore.

She was under my skin.

The morning came not with the rising sun but with the familiar pull of duty, a rhythm as natural to me as breathing. Sleep had been fleeting, fractured by restless dreams and thoughts I didn’t care to name. It wasn’t unusual—restlessness had been my companion since the day we left the Omatikaya forests for Awa’atlu. But today, it felt different, heavier somehow.

As the first hints of light crept over the trees, I stepped out of my tent, the cool morning air brushing against my skin. Tendrils of bioluminescence still lingered, fading with the approach of dawn.

I made my way toward the ikran rookery, my steps purposeful yet unhurried. Na’la was already awake, perched on a high branch, preening her bright green and blue feathers. She chirped as I approached, a sharp, almost impatient sound that made me smile.

“You’re eager today,” I said in Na’vi, running my hand along her neck. Her scales were warm beneath my palm, and she tilted her head toward me, demanding more attention.

“Na’la, we have work to do,” I murmured, though my tone was more affectionate than scolding. I untangled the leather reins and checked the straps carefully.

A familiar voice broke the quiet. “You talk to her like she’s your child.”

I turned to see Lo’ak leaning against a nearby tree, a teasing grin plastered across his face. He had the kind of ease about him that I envied sometimes, like the weight of the world hadn’t yet found a way to settle on his shoulders.

“And you talk like you’re not late,” I shot back, raising a brow.

Lo’ak laughed, stepping closer. “Father’s been asking about the perimeter check. You’re supposed to report in after.”

“I know,” I replied, securing the final strap on Na’la’s harness. “I’m heading out now.”

Lo’ak’s gaze lingered on me, his grin fading slightly. “You didn’t sleep again, did you?”

“I’m fine,” I said quickly, brushing off his concern.

“You’re always ‘fine,’” Lo’ak muttered, crossing his arms. “One day, you’re going to have to admit you’re not perfect, bro.”

“I’ll let you know when that day comes,” I replied, swinging onto Na’la’s back. “Now, are you coming, or are you just here to criticize me?”

Lo’ak chuckled, shaking his head. “I’ve got my own tasks, thanks. I have to go over some strategies with Za'ruk for the next ambush. But try not to overthink everything, alright? You’re worse than Kiri sometimes.”

I ignored his jab, giving Na’la the signal to take off. The rush of wind and the sudden burst of speed cleared my mind, at least for a moment. The forest spread out beneath us, an endless expanse of green and blue, dotted with the faint glow of the morning’s first light.

As we approached the eastern perimeter, I scanned the ground below, noting the subtle signs of movement among the foliage. A small group of hunters was already out, their bows slung across their backs as they moved with practiced precision.

I landed Na’la near the group, dismounting with a fluid motion. The lead hunter, a tall Na’vi named Ayzek, approached with a nod of greeting.

“Neteyam. Oel ngati kameie,ma tsmukan.” he said, his voice steady,as he greets me in the Na’vi way. “Everything’s quiet this morning. No sign of activity from the Sky People.”

“I see you,brother.Good,” I replied, glancing toward the horizon. “But stay alert. They’ve been quiet for too long.”

Ayzek nodded again, his expression serious. “We’ll keep watch.”

I spent the next hour moving along the perimeter, checking for any signs of disturbance. The forest was eerily peaceful, the kind of quiet that always felt like the calm before a storm. Yet the storm never came.

By the time I finished, the sun was fully above the trees, casting long shadows across the ground. I guided Na’la back towards the village, my mind already shifting to the next task on my list.Grandmother asked me if I could gather some herbs for her,so I got to work.

I found the plants I needed, bending low to carefully pluck the delicate leaves. The task was simple enough, but my thoughts kept returning to the conversation we’d had last night. She had been so guarded, so closed off. But underneath that was something more—something I couldn’t quite put into words. It reminded me of the way the forest was sometimes: unpredictable, wild, full of life, but also dangerous.

As I landed back at base,I made my way quickly to my grandmother’s tent, the familiar scent of herbs and smoke greeted me. The Tsahìk was seated cross-legged near a low fire, her hands deftly mixing a paste in a stone bowl.

“Grandmother,I see you." I said, bowing my head respectfully.

“Neteyam,” she replied without looking up. “You are late.”

“My apologies,” I said, kneeling beside her. “The perimeter was secure.”

She finally looked at me, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly. “And yet your mind is elsewhere.”

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. My grandmother had a way of seeing through me, of pulling truths I wasn’t ready to confront.

“There is much to think about,” I said carefully.

Her gaze lingered on me for a moment longer,a small smile making its way on her face before she returned to her work. “Your father has asked for you. Go to him when you are done here.”

I nodded, rising to my feet. Her words stayed with me as I made my way toward his marui. There was always something to think about, always something to do. But lately, my thoughts kept returning to her—to the human girl who didn’t belong here, yet somehow felt like she might.

For now, though, there was work to be done. And work was the one thing I could always count on to keep my mind in check.

The low hum of the base was the only sound besides the soft padding of my footsteps as I made my way to my father’s marui. My mind was still spinning from the conversation I’d had earlier, the one that had gotten under my skin more than I wanted to admit. I wasn’t sure what it was about her that kept pulling my attention, but the more I saw of her, the harder it was to ignore the strange pull.

I rounded a corner, barely glancing up before—

Bam!

I felt the impact hard in my chest as she collided with me, sending a jolt through both of us. My body instinctively moved to catch her, but she was already stepping back, muttering under her breath.

“Dammit,” she hissed, her hand flying to her left shoulder, massaging the spot she’d rammed into me. “Fucking hell, watch where—”

Her voice faltered mid-curse as her eyes flicked up to meet mine. Wide and startled, her gaze locked onto mine, and for a moment, we both froze. The air between us thickened, silent except for the faint hum of the base and the echo of her earlier words.

“Neteyam?” she said finally, her voice softer now, tinged with surprise.

I blinked, the initial shock fading as I took her in. Her cheeks were flushed—whether from embarrassment or irritation, I couldn’t tell—and her lips were slightly parted as if she wasn’t sure what to say next. Fucking hell, she’s so pretty.

“Syulang,” I said, letting out a breathless laugh and easing into a grin. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

She straightened up and let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry, I wasn’t watching where I was going,” she muttered, then huffed in frustration. “I swear, I need to be more careful. My brain’s on autopilot lately.”

I chuckled, the sound breaking some of the tension. “No harm done. You sure you’re okay? That was a pretty solid hit.” I asked, studying her face. The frustration from earlier had softened, but I couldn’t help noticing how much more relaxed she looked.

She rolled her eyes but smiled faintly. “I’ve had worse,” she said, rubbing her shoulder one more time before she gestured vaguely down the hall, a little too animated, her voice picking up speed. “I was actually heading to Unit 2—kind of a weird place, but cozy enough. I’ve already taken some blood samples, nothing too fancy, you know? Just figuring out some things with the new enhanced Avatar technology and—” She paused, blinking as if she hadn’t realized how much she was talking.

I couldn’t tear my gaze away from her. She was talking so fast, her words tumbling over each other like she was on a mission to distract herself, or maybe... distract me. She was so different from the defensive girl I had bumped into last night in the common room. Either way, I could feel my heart rate picking up in the strangest way.

“Blood samples?” I repeated, trying to focus on the words, though I couldn’t stop staring at how her lips moved when she spoke. “What... kind of samples?” Did I really just ask what kind of samples? Am I a fucking idiot?

"Oh, you know,” she said, waving her hand dismissively, “baseline stuff. Standard variables. I can’t really get into the fun experiments until I have a solid foundation to work with.” She grinned like she was sharing some inside secret, and for a moment, I found myself completely captivated by the spark in her eyes.

She was so different from anyone I’d met. So...alive, in a way I couldn’t quite explain.

“Right,” I said, quieter than I intended, distracted by the way her hair caught the faint light. “You’re settling in, I see?”

Her laugh was soft, disarming. “What else am I supposed to do around here? Besides, I’ve got to keep busy or else I’ll start thinking too much about... everything else.”

The way she said everything else stirred something in my chest. It was in her tone, the way her words seemed heavier than they should have been. I didn’t want to push, but I couldn’t stop myself. “What do you mean, everything else?”

She hesitated, a fleeting expression of vulnerability crossing her face. Like she hadn’t meant to let that slip. Then, with a small shrug and a half-smile, she answered, “It’s nothing, really. Just... adjusting. I know I’m not exactly welcome here, but I don’t have a lot of options right now,do I?”

Her voice softened toward the end, her posture shifting slightly, as though the weight of her words had finally settled on her shoulders. My eyes caught the way her fingers tugged at her cuticles—a nervous habit I’d seen around before. It was subtle but telling, the kind of gesture that hinted at something deeper bubbling under the surface.

She’s anxious... huh.

“I get it,” I said gently, my voice dropping in volume as though I didn’t want to break the fragile moment between us. “It’s... a lot to take in. But you’ll find your place. In time. You just have to trust the process.”

Her eyes flickered toward me, and for a second, something unreadable passed through them—an emotion too layered to pin down.The look lingered just long enough to make my chest tighten before she glanced away, letting her gaze drift to the floor.

That’s when I saw it again—the same vulnerable look she’d had last night. The mask she wore, the one that made her seem sharp and untouchable, slipped just a little. Beneath it was something raw, something almost fragile.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but the words seemed to catch in her throat. Her lips pressed into a thin line before she let out a soft sigh. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, she spoke. “You’re right,” she said, her voice quieter now, thoughtful but distant, as if she was speaking more to herself than to me.

I didn’t press her, even though the pause felt heavy with unspoken things. I could sense the struggle she was having, the way she weighed every word like it might tip some precarious balance. Instead, I let the silence stretch between us, offering her the space to decide what she wanted to say—or not say.

But even as her eyes stayed fixed on the floor below, her fingers had stopped pulling at her cuticles. A small thing, but I noticed.

And just like that, the moment seemed to waver, as fragile as a thread. She stepped back, her attention shifting toward the path. “Anyway... I should get back to the lab. I’ve still got a ton of data to go through.”

I watched her pull away, feeling a sudden, inexplicable tightness in my chest. There was no reason for me to feel like this, no reason for the way my feet wanted to follow hers even as she moved further away. I don’t even know her that well. 

“Yeah, okay,” I muttered. “I’ll see you later?”

She glanced back at me, her lips curling into a small smile. “Actually,” she said, a mischievous,yet shy glint in her eyes, “how about we meet in the common room tonight,around 11? You know, talk more. Like last night. I could use a distraction.”

Her invitation—casual, but somehow intimate—had my heart beating faster than it should have. For a split second, I wasn’t sure if I should be relieved or panicked. There was something about her that pulled at me in a way that I couldn’t control. But I nodded anyway.

“Sure. Tonight. I’ll uh…I’ll see you there.” I said, my voice quieter and more shy than usual. 

Her smile lingered for a moment, her gaze soft and warm, before she turned and walked off down the hall. I couldn’t stop watching her as she disappeared into the distance.

The moment she was out of sight, I exhaled sharply, trying to calm the racing thoughts in my mind. What is wrong with me?

I couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Between the two of us, something was changing—something I wasn’t prepared for. And I didn’t know whether to embrace it or run. But all I knew for sure was that I’d be in that common room tonight, just like she wanted.

Whatever happens then, I’ll deal with it.

I stood there for a few moments after she walked away, my mind swirling with the unexpected tension that had sparked between us. It wasn’t like me to get so... flustered. I wasn’t some teenager caught off guard by a fleeting glance or a playful smile. But the way she spoke, how she was so full of energy now that she was in her own element, and how the words seemed to flow out of her like she couldn’t stop herself—it made me feel... unsteady.

Shaking my head to clear the thoughts clouding my mind, I turned on my heel and continued my path toward my father's marui. There was no time to be distracted right now. I had duties to attend to, responsibilities I couldn’t afford to ignore.

I hadn’t been on my way for more than a few minutes before the weight of the moment caught up with me again. She had asked to meet later—tonight—and I hadn’t expected it. I had thought maybe it was a fluke, a casual comment. But the look in her eyes, the sincerity of her words, made it clear she meant it. And despite everything, part of me wanted to meet her. Wanted to see what would happen when we spoke more, when we spent more time together.

But now wasn’t the time for that. I had bigger things to worry about.

I reached my father’s marui, the familiar earthy scent of the woven structure greeting me as I stepped inside. The dim light of late morning filtered through the arched openings, casting intricate patterns over the floor. My thoughts were still scattered, each one vying for attention like a restless storm.

Dad was already there, sitting cross-legged at the center of the room, his posture as straight as ever, exuding a quiet authority. A map of the surrounding territories was spread out before him, his fingers tracing lines and markings that detailed our fragile hold on this land.

“You’re late,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with mild reprimand. He didn’t look up; he didn’t need to. His tone carried enough weight.

“Sorry, Dad,” I muttered, lowering myself to sit across from him. The woven mat beneath me felt rough, grounding. “Got... distracted.”

At that, his eyes flicked up, sharp and discerning. Concern flickered briefly in his gaze, though it was hidden beneath his stoic exterior. “Distracted?” His brow furrowed. “You’re still thinking about those reports from yesterday?”

I almost laughed at that—those reports were the last thing on my mind—but I stopped myself, shaking my head. “No, not exactly.” My tone was too neutral, betraying nothing of the whirlwind in my head. The lab, the ambushes, the strange pull I felt toward her—all of it churned within me, just out of reach.

Dad’s gaze lingered for a moment, his keen eyes assessing me. “You’re sure? Because…whatever’s bothering you, we need to stay focused. We’ve got more problems than just the RDA and their new push for territory.”

“I know,” I said, nodding quickly, trying to appear more resolute than I felt. “I’m focused, Dad. It’s just...there’s a lot going on right now. Everything’s changing so fast, and I don’t think I’ve caught up yet.”

For a moment, silence stretched between us. Then, to my surprise, his expression softened. He leaned back slightly, the tension in his shoulders easing. “You know,” he began, his tone uncharacteristically reflective, “I’ve been where you are. When I came here as a human. When we moved to Awa’atlu, to live with the Metkayina. I felt like I was walking into another world,every single time. Everything I knew was stripped away. For the first time, I didn’t know where I fit.”

I blinked, taken aback. My father—so steady, so unwavering—had felt that way? I’d never heard him speak like this before.

“You?” I asked, skepticism coloring my voice despite myself.

He smirked faintly, but his eyes remained serious. “Yes, me. I was used to being in control, to knowing my role and what was expected of me,especially here with the people. Our people. But there, among the Metkayina... I was an outsider. Not to mention,back when I came here to Pandora,almost everyone looked  down on me because of my…condition. I had to learn everything from scratch, adapt to a way of life that was completely foreign to me.”

“And you found your place eventually,” I said quietly, as though seeking confirmation.

“I did,” he said with a slow nod. “But it wasn’t easy. And it wasn’t always clear. Sometimes, finding your place isn’t about fitting in. It’s about carving out your own path, even if it’s not what you expected.”

His words settled heavily in the air between us. They were meant to reassure me, I knew, but they only seemed to magnify the doubts I hadn’t yet voiced.

“What if I’m not sure where I belong anymore?” I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop it. I could feel the regret seeping into my bones almost instantly.

My father’s gaze softened, and for a moment, he leaned forward, his voice dropping to a lower, more intimate tone. “You’re my son, Neteyam. You’ve always been destined to lead. But leadership isn’t about having all the answers. It’s about making the hard choices when no one else will. And right now, you’re needed. By your family, by the clan. Don’t forget that.”

I nodded, his words hitting their mark. The familiar weight of responsibility settled on my shoulders again, grounding me even as the unease within me continued to churn.

“Got it,” I said, standing up, summoning a conviction I didn’t truly feel. My legs felt heavy, as if the weight of every expectation was dragging me down. I am so, so tired. The kind of exhaustion that seeps into your bones, that lingers even after the day is done. But I couldn’t let it show, not now. Not in front of him.

I glanced at my father’s face—strong, unwavering, the image of everything I was supposed to be—and felt the pressure tighten around me like a vise. I can’t let him down. I can’t let anyone down.

“I’ll handle it, Dad,” I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing inside me. I squared my shoulders, as if straightening my spine could bear the weight a little better. “I’ll take care of everything.”

But even as I spoke the words, they felt hollow, as though I was pouring from a well that had long since run dry. The weight of responsibility, of duty, of always being the one everyone relied on—it was crushing. Yet I swallowed the heaviness, shoving it down where no one could see, because that’s what was expected of me. That’s what I had to be.

“I know you will,” he replied firmly. “Now, let’s go over those raid reports from the Aranahe. Priya said Etuwa mentioned something important about their movements.”

We spent the next hour combing through the maps and plans, dissecting strategies and weighing risks. By the time we finished, my head was spinning with logistical details, but the unease hadn’t left me. It clung to me, stubborn and unrelenting.

As I stepped out of the marui, the mid-morning sun had risen higher, casting dappled light through the canopy above. The air felt thick with possibility and tension, the kind that promised change.

And tonight, I would talk to her. Maybe then I’d start to make sense of the storm inside me. Maybe then I’d begin to understand what it was about her that had shifted my entire world off its axis.

The soft glow of the lamps in the common room greeted me as I pushed open the door, expecting to see her sitting at one of the tables, waiting for me like we had planned. But the room was empty, save for a few scattered papers and a faint hum in the air. The silence felt heavier than it should have, and I couldn't help but feel a small knot form in my stomach. Had she changed her mind? Was I being too... eager?

I stood there for a moment, my gaze flicking from one corner of the room to the other, my thoughts racing. It wasn’t like her to ditch without saying something. She didn't seem like that kind of person. My hand lingered on the doorframe as I considered the possibility that I’d misread her intentions. Maybe she just didn’t want to talk tonight.

"Great," I muttered under my breath. "Did she forget, or did I get the time wrong?"

I lingered for a minute, debating if I should just call it a night, but something told me to check on her. Her room wasn’t far, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to swing by.

When I reached her door, I knocked softly. "You in there?"

There was a pause, then her voice came through, muffled but annoyed. "Yeah, come in."

I stepped inside and found her sitting on her bed, one hand digging into her left shoulder with an almost pained expression. Her hair was loose, framing her face, and she looked… tired. Not just physically, but like she was carrying something heavy.

“What’s going on? You okay?” I asked, stepping closer, my voice laced with concern.

She sighed, brushing a strand of hair out of her face as she gave me a weak smile. “I’m sorry I didn’t meet you in the common room. My shoulder’s acting up, and I couldn’t drag myself out of bed.”

My brows knit together in a deep frown, the memory of her earlier bumping into me flashing in my mind. “Did you… did you hurt yourself when you bumped into me today?”

“What?” she asked, her expression confused before shaking her head quickly. “No, no, I—”

Her words trailed off, and for a moment, she hesitated. The confident, sharp-tongued girl I knew seemed to falter, her smile fading into something more vulnerable. Then, with a frustrated groan, she dropped the façade altogether.

“...Gah. A long time ago, I had an accident at the gym. Lifted before I warmed up and messed up my shoulder pretty bad,” she admitted, her voice quieter now, almost reluctant. “I got it fixed back on Earth, but sometimes it still flares up. I think it’s the pressure here, the mountains, the Flux Vortex. Everything feels heavier, and sometimes it just… hurts like hell.”

Her honesty hit me like a wave, and I found myself at a loss for words. For all her fire and wit, there was a fragility to her I hadn’t expected.

“Why didn’t you tell someone?” I asked, confusion—and maybe a hint of frustration—coloring my voice.

She sighed again, her fingers tracing idle patterns on the blanket covering her legs. “I don’t like people fussing over me, okay? It’s… embarrassing. Makes me feel weird and emotional. And when the pain gets bad, I turn into a total asshole. Groggy, snappy, all that fun stuff. Trust me, you wouldn’t want to be around me then."

I tilted my head, smirking. "Paskalin, I’ve seen you pissed off at me for saving your life. I think I can handle snappy.’" 

The term of endearment fit her so well, even better than syulang. She wasn’t delicate like a flower, something to be admired from a distance or sheltered from the wind. No, she was something else entirely. She had a resilience, a sharpness under her sweetness that reminded me of the wild berries that grew deep in the forest. Small, vibrant, and full of flavor, but with a tang that lingered.

Paskalin.

The word rolled through my lips like a whisper, soft and unassuming, yet it carried so much weight. Sweet berry. It was her—unexpected, unapologetic, and impossible to forget. Every interaction with her left a taste, something unique that stayed with me long after she was gone. She wasn’t just something pretty to look at; she had depth, layers, and a wildness that drew you in.

Calling her syulang like I did when I bumped into her wouldn’t have done her justice in this moment. She wasn’t fragile or fleeting. She was vibrant, alive in a way that commanded attention without trying. Paskalin. That was her.

And the more I thought about it, the more I realized the name wasn’t just fitting—it felt like it had been waiting for her all along.

That made her laugh for real. For a moment,I could feel she didn't want to admit that I had saved her life. "...Okay, fair point. But still, it’s annoying as hell. Plus,I told you,I don’t like people fussing over me. I don’t want to seem like I’m trying to get attention.”

“Too bad,” I said firmly, moving closer and sitting on the edge of her bed without a second thought. Gosh,these beds are small. “You’re stuck with me now.”

She blinked at me, momentarily surprised, before letting out a soft, genuine laugh. It wasn’t the sharp, sarcastic sound I was used to—it was warm, unguarded. It made something tighten in my chest.

“Great,” she said, her voice dripping with playful sarcasm. “Just what I needed—Prince Charming to the rescue.”

I smirked, leaning back slightly but keeping my gaze steady on her. “I’m serious, though. You shouldn’t have to deal with this alone. You don’t have to.”

She rolled her eyes, but I could see the faintest hint of gratitude in her expression. “Yeah, yeah. You’ve made your point.”

We spent the hour or so talking about the dumbest things—stories about the douchebags at her college back on Earth, our childhood memories, and random jokes that had us both laughing so hard my ribs hurt. To my surprise,it was so…natural. At some point, we decided we were starving, so we raided the common room for leftover snacks,and munched on them on the floor. It felt more comfortable sitting on the floor,given our…size difference.

I watched as she shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her shoulder again. I remembered how my grandmother used to massage my chest after I got shot, easing the tension on my back and helping the muscles heal. Before I could second-guess it, I asked her.

"Uh… do you want me to try something?" I asked, scratching the back of my neck.

She raised an eyebrow. "Try what?"

"My grandmother taught me a massage technique. It’s supposed to help with muscle pain. Worked for me when I, uh… got hurt." I didn’t elaborate. I couldn't open that part of myself to her. Not yet,at least. 

She raised an eyebrow, skeptical,the sass dripping from her tone. “What, you suddenly moonlight as a masseur now?”

“Shut up and turn around,” I said, rolling my eyes.

She snorted but complied, sitting cross-legged on the floor and turning her back to me. I positioned myself behind her,trying to remember the technique. As soon as I started kneading the tight muscles,she let out a long,low groan of relief.

My ears twitched,and I fought to keep my focus. It’s just a massage. Relax. But fuck,the way she was melting under my touch wasn’t helping.

“Holy shit,” she muttered, her voice muffled. “That feels… really good.”

“You’re tense as hell,” I said,trying to lighten up the mood. “Do you ever not carry the world on your shoulders?”

“Ha ha,” she deadpanned,though her voice was softer. “Keep going. Don’t stop.”

We stayed like that for a while,her groaning softly and me trying not to die of embarrassment. But somewhere in the rhythm of it,I realized something. We were becoming…friends. Real friends.

“Where were you when I needed this back on Earth?” she asks,a tinge of amusement present in her voice.

“Probably trying not to fall out of trees,” I said, grinning.

She laughed, the sound warm and genuine. “You’re terrible.”

I chuckled, though my face felt a little warmer as her laughter turned into soft groans of relief yet again,which weren't exactly helping me stay focused as my mind started drifting to other places.

I froze for half a second, my face heating up before I forced myself to focus. "Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. I charge for this kind of service."

She laughed, the sound muffled by another groan. "How much? I’ll pay whatever you want if you just keep doing that."

I couldn’t help but laugh as well, shaking my head. "You’re ridiculous."

"So are you," she shot back, her voice softer now. "Seriously, though. Thanks. I don’t... I don’t usually let people help me with this kind of stuff."

"Why not?"

She hesitated, then sighed. "I guess I don’t like feeling... vulnerable. Weak."

"That’s not weak,though." I said, my hands still working on her shoulder. "Just like your people have that saying. It’s human. Or,you know,whatever."

"Yeah. Or whatever." she said,her tone sarcastic,yet I could hear the faint smile in her voice.

We stayed like that for a while, the room quiet except for her soft breathing and the occasional sarcastic remark from her when I hit a particularly sore spot. By the time I finished, her shoulder was noticeably less tense, and she looked… lighter, somehow.

“Thanks,” she said, her voice softer than usual. “I mean it.”

“Anytime,” I replied, meaning it more than I realized. 

Her eyes lowered suddenly, a flicker of vulnerability creeping into her expression. “I guess... sometimes it’s hard for people to understand. They either see me as the tough, independent person,because that’s what I want them to see. Sometimes,I show them my softer part and I’m usually taken advantage of when I act like that. But… I’m not invincible,you know?”

I felt a knot tighten in my chest at her words. She was tough. She was smart. She was so much more than she seemed to give herself credit for. “You don’t have to apologize for being real and vulnerable,” I said, my voice low and reassuring. “You’re allowed to feel the way you do. You’re not alone here.”

She looked up at me, her eyes softening a little as she took in my words. “I didn’t realize how much I’ve been hiding. I guess it just gets... exhausting sometimes. Pretending that everything’s fine when it’s not.”

I couldn’t help but feel a wave of empathy wash over me. I knew that feeling. The pressure of always having to be strong, to always hold it together, even when everything inside you was falling apart. I had been in her shoes, more times than I cared to admit.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” I said, meeting her gaze with a kind of sincerity I wasn’t sure I’d ever expressed before. “I know we haven’t known each other for long but…I get it. You’re not the only one trying to find their place. Sometimes, it’s easier to hide behind walls. But you don’t have to do that with me. Not anymore.”

For a moment, she just stared at me, her expression unreadable, and then something shifted in her eyes. Maybe she saw the truth in my words, or maybe she just needed to hear them. Either way, the tension in the room seemed to ease, just a little.

“I’m not great at this whole... opening up thing,” she said, letting out a weak,quiet laugh. “But I think... maybe it’s worth trying. Right?”

I smiled at her, feeling something warm blossom in my chest. “It’s worth trying,” I agreed. “And maybe, we can help each other with that. Maybe we can even be friends.”

She raised an eyebrow at me, an amused smile tugging at her lips. “Friends?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice,but I could see the excitement behind her wide eyes. “You sure you’re up for it, Neteyam?”

I said, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips. “Of course I’m sure. Better yet,I’ll even make sure you don’t murder anyone with your mood swings.”

Her lips twitched into a smile, and she rolled her eyes, but I could see the appreciation in the small way her shoulders relaxed. “You’re a real charmer, you know.” she muttered, though there was no heat in her words.

“Hey, I’m just speaking the truth,” I replied with a grin. “The world needs more of me, I’m just saying.”

She let out a laugh, the sound a little strained but genuine. “Maybe one Neteyam is enough. I don’t know if the world could handle two.”

“I think you’re just jealous,” I teased, nudging her good shoulder lightly with my elbow.

She snorted, shaking her head. “Please. I’d rather be in pain than deal with your ego any more than I have to.”

“Fair enough,” I said, giving her a mock pout. “I’m trying to be helpful here, and you’re rejecting my kindness.”

She smirked. “I’m rejecting your sarcasm. But thanks... for listening. And for not running off the second I started talking about how much of a pain in the ass I am.”

I didn’t know why, but that made me feel warmer than it should’ve. “You’re not a pain in the ass. You’re... pretty cool, actually.” I paused, then added, “Pain or not.”

She raised an eyebrow at me. “That’s the nicest thing anyone’s said to me in, like, an hour.”

I chuckled. “Well, I’m happy to help.”

Slowly,we fell into a comfortable silence. The soft glow of the dim light casting shadows that danced gently across her features. The faint hum of the base filled the silence, but I barely noticed it. My attention was entirely on her.

She was leaning back on her palms, her head tilted slightly upward as she stared at the ceiling. Her hair, unbound and free, pooled around her shoulders and down her back like an ocean of soft waves. The light caught the natural sheen in it, creating an almost halo-like effect around her head. The strands seemed to ripple with her every subtle movement, and I couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful she looked—like a moment frozen in time, raw and unfiltered.

Her face, partially illuminated, carried an ethereal softness under the subdued light. The curve of her cheekbones, the delicate arch of her brows, and the faint shadow of her lashes against her skin—all of it felt magnified in this quiet, intimate moment. Her lips, slightly parted, caught my attention for a beat too long. Full and natural, they had a way of drawing my gaze without her even trying.

The dim light softened the sharpness of her features, making her look almost dreamlike. Her doe-like eyes, though unfocused as they traced patterns across the ceiling, seemed deeper somehow, like they held an entire galaxy behind them.

Her shoulders were relaxed, but there was a tension in the way her hands pressed into the floor, grounding her. The fabric of her loose shirt shifted slightly as she breathed, the neckline dipping just enough to reveal the faint outline of her collarbones. It wasn’t intentional—nothing about her ever seemed forced—but the simplicity of it only made her more alluring.

I watched as her chest rose and fell with each breath, the steady rhythm hypnotizing me. Her posture gave her an air of quiet confidence, as if she was completely at ease in this moment. Yet, there was a vulnerability there too, something that made her seem so real and tangible, like the delicate balance between strength and softness.

She shifted slightly, her fingers curling against the floor, and the movement was so subtle, so natural, it sent a strange thrill through me. I realized then just how intently I’d been watching her, how I couldn’t seem to look away. Every little detail—the way her hair framed her face, the soft curve of her lips, the calm yet restless energy she carried—was pulling me in, bit by bit.

This was dangerous—this pull she had over me, so effortless, so natural, yet so completely overwhelming. It wasn’t just her beauty, though that alone was enough to make my thoughts scatter. It was the way she existed in this moment, unguarded and unassuming, as if she didn’t even realize how much space she took up in my mind.

And yet, the longer I looked at her, the harder it became to remember why I shouldn’t. Why I shouldn’t let my mind wander to the way her hair cascaded over her shoulders like a waterfall. Why I shouldn’t think about how her lips, slightly parted, seemed to invite thoughts I had no business entertaining. Why I shouldn’t dwell on the way she held herself—with a mix of strength and vulnerability that made me want to learn every story, every scar, every smile.

It wasn’t just attraction; it was something deeper, more insidious. A seed of something I couldn’t quite name yet but knew would grow if I let it. She was starting to take root in my thoughts, her laugh, her voice, her endless curiosity all lingering in the corners of my mind long after she was gone.

I found myself breathing as if the air between us had grown heavier. Something was shifting in me—something I hadn’t expected, something I wasn’t sure I wanted. This wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t supposed to be part of the plan. And yet, she was becoming impossible to ignore.

The way she sat there, so perfectly unaware of the effect she was having on me, made it all the more dangerous. Because every second I spent watching her, every detail I memorized—the slight tilt of her head, the rhythm of her breathing, the way her fingers tapped absently against the floor—was another step toward something I couldn’t afford.

I wasn’t so sure about my loyalties anymore. That’s the thing with humans. They have a way of making you question everything. 

And still, I couldn’t stop myself. Couldn’t stop the way my chest tightened every time she moved. Couldn’t stop the thoughts racing through my mind, each one more foolish than the last.

She was becoming a gravity I couldn’t escape, a quiet pull drawing me closer with every breath. And as I stood there, caught in the silent orbit of her presence, I realized with a sinking clarity that I was falling. Slowly, maybe, but undeniably.

Her voice brought me back to reality, soft and melodic, like a breeze stirring the stillness of the night. I hadn’t even realized how lost I had become in my thoughts until she spoke, her words cutting through the haze and pulling me back into the moment.

I blinked, forcing myself to focus on her. She was still sitting there, leaning back on her palms, her eyes flickering to mine.

“You know,” she said, staring up at the ceiling, “I think this might be the most fun I’ve had in weeks.”

“Glad I could be of service,” I said, tossing a piece of fruit into my mouth.

Our conversation was then cut short by Norm as he stumbled in, half-asleep, rubbing his eyes and muttering something about needing stronger coffee around here, while we were sprawled on the floor, mid-laugh. We froze as his gaze landed on us, his sleepy expression shifting into one of confusion.

“What are you two doing?” he mumbled, scratching his head.

Never one to back down from an opportunity to tease,she turned to him. “Star gazing,” she said, deadpan, despite the fact that we were indoors.

Norm squinted, clearly too tired to argue. “Right. Well, carry on. Just… keep it down.” He shuffled over to the kitchenette, grabbed a glass of water, and disappeared as quickly as he’d arrived.

As soon as the door closed behind him, we burst out laughing again. I rolled onto my side, clutching my stomach. “Star gazing? Really?”

She grinned, unrepentant. “It worked, didn’t it?”

Shaking my head, I let the laughter fade and leaned back against the floor, staring up at the ceiling. The quiet hum of the outpost settled around us, and for the first time in what felt like forever, I felt completely relaxed. In a moment of confidence,I turned my head to look at her.

She turned her head to look at me as well,her cheek resting softly against the cool floor, and for a moment, I couldn't tear my gaze away. Her hair fanned out around her like a halo,tendrils spilling in all directions, catching the dim light in a way that made her seem almost otherworldly. In that split second, I was completely entranced, my heart doing a strange, sudden lurch in my chest. It was like everything around me went quiet, and all that mattered was the sight of her there, so effortlessly beautiful. I swear, my heart physically skipped a beat.

"You're staring," she said, her voice teasing, with a smirk playing at the corners of her lips.

I blinked rapidly, forcing myself to pull my eyes away from her. "Was not," I mumbled, but my voice betrayed me, the words coming out a little too quick, too defensive.

"Totally were," she shot back, poking me in the side with one finger, sending a small, unexpected jolt through me.

I let out a quiet breath, glancing at her with surprise. Her playfulness was so unexpected, and it threw me off balance more than I cared to admit.

"As if," I muttered, a small laugh bubbling up despite myself.

She smiled then, a small, genuine smile that seemed to warm the room, making my chest tighten in ways I couldn’t name. There was something about the way her expression softened, something that tugged at me. That simple, unguarded smile made the space between us feel both impossibly close and unbearably far, all at once. I wasn’t sure why, but I felt exposed under her gaze, and I didn’t want to look away—didn’t want to lose the moment.

"Okay, enough deep shit," she said with a dramatic flourish, flopping her back onto the floor like she’d just completed an intense workout. "Tell me something dumb. Like… what’s the most embarrassing thing that’s ever happened to you?"

I groaned, instantly feeling the weight of the question. "Oh, come on. That’s not fair."

"Fairness is overrated," she teased, smirking at me as if daring me to resist. "Come on, spill. I know you’ve got something good."

I sighed, running a hand through my braids, already regretting this conversation. "Fine. When I was like… ten, I tried to impress this girl by climbing a tree. Thought I was being all cool and smooth, y’know? But then I fell right out of it and landed in a pile of… well, let’s just say it wasn’t dirt."

She burst out laughing immediately, clutching her stomach like she couldn’t control herself. Her laugh was so contagious, I found myself cracking a smile, even though I was still cringing at the memory. "Oh my god! Please tell me she didn’t see the whole thing."

I grimaced, leaning back against the floor, trying to escape the embarrassment. "Unfortunately, yes. And she never, ever let me live it down."

She wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing uncontrollably. "Okay, your turn. Ask me something."

I thought for a moment, a mischievous grin slowly creeping onto my face. "Alright. What’s the dumbest thing you’ve ever done to impress someone?"

She groaned and covered her face with both hands, clearly regretting her decision to play along. "Oh, you’re evil. Okay, fine." She sighed deeply, as if preparing to dive into the depths of embarrassment. "When I was fifteen, I had this huge crush on a guy, and he was obsessed with some TV series, so I… painted a triquetra on my wall in black paint to impress him. It’s like… a triangle symbol, I don’t know how to describe it."

I stared at her for a moment, speechless, before I couldn’t hold it back any longer. I burst out laughing, leaning forward in disbelief. "You’re kidding."

"Wish I was," she said, her voice muffled behind her hands, but I could still hear the faint edge of humiliation in it. "He didn’t even think it was that impressive, and my parents thought I was in a cult."

I doubled over in laughter, clutching my sides as the ridiculousness of her story hit me. It was almost too perfect. The image of her—who could be so effortlessly composed and sharp—doing something so… ridiculous to impress some guy was too much for me. I could barely breathe, still laughing so hard I thought I might pass out.

We kept trading stories like that for a while, our voices rising in fits of laughter, each ridiculous tale more outrageous than the last. By the time we realized how late it was, the sun had already begun to rise. Its soft glow filtered through the windows, casting long beams of pale light across the room, making everything feel a little softer, a little quieter.

"Shit," she said, looking around in sudden realization. "We pulled an all-nighter???"

"Looks like it," I muttered, stretching as a yawn escaped me. I was exhausted, but in that moment, it felt like the kind of tiredness you could sink into, not the kind that dragged you down. The kind that comes after a night spent with someone who makes everything feel a little lighter.

She groaned, glancing at the clock and then back at me, her expression still a mix of disbelief and amusement. "We seriously need to stop doing this. I don’t know what’s worse: the fact that we stayed up all night or the fact that I actually enjoy it."

I chuckled softly, rubbing my eyes. "We’ll deal with that later. But right now, I’m pretty sure we both need coffee."

She shot me a grin, her eyes sparkling even in the early morning light. "Coffee sounds like a good idea. Let’s go make some bad decisions."

I helped her up, my hand steady as I offered her a small, teasing smile. But as soon as she stood, her eyes widened just slightly, and I couldn't suppress a chuckle at the look on her face. In that moment, the difference in our heights felt more pronounced than it ever had before.

Her gaze flickered up to me, a little self-conscious, and I could tell she was probably calculating how much taller I was than her. I couldn’t help but find it amusing—the way she looked up at me like I was some towering figure.

We both began to walk toward the kitchen, and her voice rang out, light and easy, bouncing off the walls as we moved through the quiet, stillness of the morning. “Thanks for tonight, Neteyam. For real. I didn’t think I needed this, but… I did.”

I turned my head to look at her,a faint smile tugging at her lips. “You don’t have to thank me,” I said. “I had fun too.”

She laughed lightly. “Fun, huh? Even with my bitching about my shoulder and my terrible jokes?”

I smirked. “Your jokes are pretty bad. But the shoulder thing? I get it. Everyone’s got their stuff. Doesn’t make you weak.”

As we walked side by side toward the kitchen, her words hung in the air, a soft echo I couldn’t quite shake. I didn’t think I needed this, but... I did.

Something inside me shifted. The usual weight of responsibility and expectations that always seemed to press down on me felt a little less suffocating in that moment. Maybe it was the simplicity of her gratitude, the way she didn’t try to hide the vulnerability in her voice. Maybe it was because I hadn’t felt this light in a long time—not in a way that wasn’t tied to duty or obligation.

I glanced at her, a faint smile tugging at my lips, and despite the teasing, there was something different in the way she looked at me. It wasn’t just the playful glint in her eyes or the way she always managed to make me feel like I was part of something bigger than the chaos of my life. No, this was something deeper—something that cut through the layers of expectation that had built up around me for as long as I could remember. It was like she saw me, really saw me—not just the son of Toruk Makto, not just the Olo’Eyktan-in-training, not the perfect older brother everyone expected me to be. She didn’t see the role I played or the image I projected for the world. She saw the person beneath it all.

She saw me beyond the weight of duty, beyond the endless training, beyond the constant pressure to be something I didn’t always know how to be. She saw the guy who almost lost his life to a bullet, the one who had doubts and scars that no one else seemed to notice. She didn’t flinch at the messiness of who I was or what I’d been through. She felt it, without even having to ask.

And for a split second, I wondered if maybe I was finally starting to feel seen too—really seen in a way I hadn’t allowed myself to be in so long.

The connection we’d shared over the past few hours—the jokes, the quiet moments, the easy conversation—had slowly started to weave something between us. A thread that was pulling tighter with every passing minute. And it made me realize just how much I didn’t want it to unravel.

I turned my head, watching her laugh, that light sound filling the space between us. There was something magnetic about her presence, something I hadn’t expected to find. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but she had a way of making everything else fade into the background.

“You’re annoyingly good at this whole ‘being supportive’ thing,” she said, her words almost a whisper, but they hit me harder than I expected.

It wasn’t the first time I’d heard that sort of compliment—being the strong, reliable older sibling had earned me a reputation for being the go-to guy when things got tough. But hearing it from her? It made me want to be better, to actually be the kind of person she thought I was. It made me want to do more than just live up to expectations; it made me want to live up to her expectations.

I chuckled softly, the lightness of the moment easing some of the tension I hadn’t realized I was carrying. "Comes with the territory of being the older brother. You learn to deal with people's shit." I said, shrugging casually, though I wasn’t so sure I believed it myself.

“Wow, way to ruin the moment,” she said, rolling her eyes, but there was a playful edge to her voice.

But as we reached the kitchen, I realized something else too. I wasn’t just the older brother anymore. I wasn’t just the guy everyone turned to. In that space, in the quiet moments we shared, I felt something else stirring inside me—something I hadn’t let myself feel in a long time. Something that made my chest tighten and my thoughts race, but not in the usual way. It wasn’t pressure, or the weight of a thousand expectations—it was something lighter. Something hopeful.

And as we both stood there, exchanging the last of our banter, I couldn’t help but wonder if this—this—wasn’t just about being supportive. Maybe, just maybe, I was starting to feel something more. And it terrified me.

But for the first time in a long time, it felt like something worth chasing.

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 3.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

authors's note: Merry belated Christmas to those celebrating! 🎄 I’m back with another chapter and just want to say how much I appreciate all of you for reading my story. Your support means so much to me! Hope you enjoy this chapter! 💖

Pending…Pending…

Date: August 16th,2174.

Location: Sully Marui,High Camp,Mons Veritatis,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 2:13 PM.

Imagine this: I was caught in a tug-of-war between two lives—the one I’d known, built on logic and expectations and the one I’d stumbled into, raw and untamed, a pulse that didn’t just beat but throbbed deep into my bones.

The fluorescent-lit labs of Earth felt like suffocating cages now, a reminder of everything I’d left behind: the pressure to be perfect, to be a cog in a machine. And here, amidst the alien beauty of Pandora, I felt both out of place and strangely alive. I wasn’t just another human anymore—I was a scientist surrounded by warriors, an outsider in a world that was anything but human.

It was disorienting. Every decision felt like a battle. I was forced to fight not just for survival, but for a place in this alien landscape.

Then, there were his eyes. Golden, piercing, like they saw right through me. At first, I tried to ignore him—the way he watched me, as if he understood something I couldn’t even put into words. But it was hard to ignore the pull, the weight of his gaze, the flicker of something deeper in those eyes. The quiet confidence in the way he stood, the power in the way he moved—it stirred something in me.

I couldn’t deny it. No matter how much I tried to push it away, the attraction was there, undeniable. And in that moment, it wasn’t just the pull of Pandora that had me trapped. It was him.

Welcome to my mind. It’s a chaotic,yet beautiful and conflicted place. I suggest you hold on tight.

“Follow me,” the Na’vi said, his voice firm.

I stumbled a little, catching myself on the rocky terrain. The high base of the Hallelujah Mountains loomed around us, the bioluminescent glow of the plants and moss lighting our path. He cast a glance back at me, his sharp gaze softening when he noticed my unease.

“I’m not going to run,” I muttered, crossing my arms. I’m starting to regret this.

“Good,” he replied simply, though a ghost of a smirk tugged at his lips. “You wouldn’t get far.”

I wanted to argue, but I bit my tongue, focusing instead on my surroundings. He’s cocky,it seems. The base was alive with activity—Na’vi moved between the makeshift structures, their voices mixing with the hum of the forest. Humans were here too, walking among them, though they stuck out like sore thumbs.

The sight unsettled me. The RDA had drilled into us the belief that humans and Na’vi were sworn enemies, that coexistence was a naïve fantasy. And yet, here they were—working together, living side by side, proving everything I had been taught wrong. It made me sick to think about how blind and helpless humanity back on Earth really was, trapped in RDA’s own fairytale.

He stopped in front of a large hut, motioning for me to enter. “Inside,” he said.

I hesitated, glancing at the entrance. “And what exactly is waiting for me in there?”

“Answers,” he said simply, his tone giving no room for argument. I hate these half-assed answers. Is he trying to seem mysterious?I mutter under my breath -

“Ugh,dick.”

-visibly annoyed,though the flicker of his left ear tells me he caught that,and I can’t help but grin a little at the dumb situation I got myself in.

With a deep breath, I stepped inside.

The air inside the hut was heavy, a mix of earthy smells and an undercurrent of tension that prickled at my nerves. Sitting at the center was Jake Sully, his elbows resting on his knees, his sharp gaze locking onto me the moment I entered. Neytiri,his mate, stood behind him, her posture stiff, her golden eyes filled with suspicion.

It all slams into place like a punch to the gut. Wait—what? No way. This guy... the one who brought me here... oh my God, he’s his son. Jake Sully’s eldest. Neteyam Sully.

“Sit,” Jake said, nodding toward an open space on the floor.

I sat cross-legged, a sense of vulnerability crawling under my skin like never before. My eyes darted to Neteyam, still standing by the doorway, his face as unreadable as ever. Is he... more attractive now that I know who he is? No, I immediately scolded myself. That’s not the issue here.

“What’s your name?” Jake asked, breaking the silence.

I introduce myself as I try to steady my already-trembling voice.

Jake nodded slowly. “Alright, You’re a scientist, right? That’s what Neteyam told me.”

“Yes,” I said. “I work in the Avatar Recom project. I’m not a soldier, and I’m not a spy.”

“You work with the Recoms,” Neytiri said, her voice sharp. She really is as scary as they say. Sheesh. “You help create them.”

Her words felt like a slap, but I forced myself to stay calm. “I study Avatars. The Recoms are just one part of the project. My job is research, not combat.”

Jake leaned forward, his gaze narrowing. “Then tell us. What is the RDA doing with the Recoms now? We’ve fought them before, but every time, they’re tougher, faster. What’s changed?”

I hesitated, glancing at Max Patel and Norm Spellman, who sat silently to the side, their expressions unreadable. I recognized their faces back from Earth’s most wanted screen that would glow in Times Square every night at 8 PM sharp. Funny how most people here,especially Jake Sully,have their faces there. What’s funnier is,I actually saw them as criminals back then. Finally, I took a deep breath and began.

“The Recoms have been refined since the last time you encountered them back in 2170.” I said. “The RDA has addressed issues like genetic instability and neural lag. But the biggest advancement isn’t physical. It’s uh…psychological.”

Jake frowned. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve started integrating emotional responses into their programming,” I explained. “Specifically, feelings of anger and loyalty. They’ve found a way to amplify those emotions during combat, making the Recoms more aggressive, more determined to complete their missions.”

Neytiri’s tail flicked sharply, her expression darkening. Why do I feel so guilty?  “And what happens when they fail?”

“They don’t fail often,” I admitted. “But when they do... they’re designed to self-destruct rather than be captured.”

The room fell silent, the weight of my words settling heavily on everyone present.

I never wanted this. All I ever wanted was to make art and have a nice,peaceful life,away from anything related to science. . How the hell did I even get here? I feel awful. For being part of this horrible organization that destroys everything that is beautiful,and now...I can see it in their eyes.

The way their troubled eyes betray their stoic expressions as they listen to my words.

“Self-destruct?” Norm echoed, his voice filled with disbelief.

I nodded. “The RDA can’t risk their tech falling into the wrong hands. To them,the Recoms are disposable."

Jake leaned back, his jaw tightening. “This is worse than I thought.”

Neteyam, who had been silent until now, stepped forward slightly. “And you? How do you fit into all this?”

“I-I don’t,” I said quickly,a stutter coming out. “I was recruited in my first year of college because of my knowledge,then I got trained for 6 months before being sent here. That’s it. I didn’t sign up for this war. I swear.”

Neytiri scoffed, crossing her arms. “Convenient excuse,vrrtep.”

“Ma yawntu.” Jake warned, though his voice was tired.

“I’m not lying,” I said, meeting her gaze. “I didn’t choose to be here. Your son brought me.”

At that, Neytiri’s gaze flicked to Neteyam, her lips pressing into a thin line.

Mo’at, who had been silent throughout the exchange, finally spoke. “Eywa brought her to us,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “The atokirina does not choose lightly.”

I look at her a bit confused. What atokirina? I see her and Neteyam steal a glance,nodding before they look at me. This is unnerving.

Mo’at’s gaze was steady. “Eywa decides where you belong. Not you.”

I stumbled out of the hut, my mind racing. The cool night air was a welcome relief after the suffocating tension of the meeting. Plus,I just hope there’s a place where I can finally take my exopack off.

Neteyam was waiting outside for me, a thoughtful look on his face as he looked at the ground. Probably zoning out. He straightened when he saw me, his expression unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Fine,” I said shortly, brushing past him. I can't believe he got me into this mess.

He fell into step beside me. “You didn’t exactly make any friends in there.”

 I scoff. “Not my priority,” I snapped. “And thanks for the heads-up, by the way. Really appreciated being thrown into the deep end,Mr. Blue Prince.”

Neteyam smirked faintly. “You handled yourself fine.”

I shot him a glare, but he didn’t seem fazed. Instead, his gaze softened slightly, and he continued, “You were honest. That’s all that matters.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I kept walking. I don't know where to exactly. I’m sure he laughed inside as he saw me stomping off,considering I have no actual idea where I’m headed. But the unspoken tension between us lingered, a thread pulling tighter with every step.

The human quarters were...modest, to say the least. A simple cluster of prefabricated modules, they were a far cry from the sprawling labs and luxurious accommodations back at the RDA base. But they were functional, blending into the caves in a way that felt intentional rather than invasive.

A woman met me at the threshold of one of the modules, her face lighting up with a warm smile. She was older, with streaks of gray in her short hair and kind eyes behind round glasses.

“You must be the new scientist,I assume?,” she said, extending a hand. “I’m Dr. Marie Holden. I heard you used to work with…Dr. Ellison?Max and Norm told me you’d be staying with us.”

I shook her hand, appreciating the brief moment of normalcy. “Yeah,that’s uhh…That’s me. Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Don’t mention it,” she said, waving me inside. “We’re used to taking in strays. Though I think you’re the first one brought here by a Sully.”

I flushed, glancing at Neteyam, who had followed me to the door but lingered outside,like a shadow, leaning against the frame.

It's kinda creepy,if I might add.

Marie gave him a knowing look, a sly smile tugging at her lips. “You sticking around, Neteyam?”

“No,” he said quickly, his voice sharp but steady as he pushed off the doorframe. His movements were fluid, deliberate, as if every step he took was measured and precise. “I need to report back to my father.”

But then his gaze flicked to me, and the air in the room seemed to shift. Those golden eyes, burning with the same intensity they held during the ambush, locked onto mine. It was the look of a warrior—fierce, unyielding—but underneath it, I caught something else. A quiet, restrained anger. A hint of exhaustion. The weight of a fight he hadn’t chosen but couldn’t walk away from.

And damn him, it made my heart stumble in its rhythm, just like it had that day.

“Try not to cause any trouble.”

I scowled playfully. “That’s rich, coming from the person who dragged me here.”

Neteyam chuckled softly, the sound low and almost teasing. “What can I say?Welcome to the rebellion, syulang.” And with that, he disappeared into the night.

Gosh,did he really just call me that?I’m pretty sure he wants to mess with me,knowing I understand his alien language. I just hope my ears aren't burning.

Marie watched him go, shaking her head with a bemused smile. “He’s a good kid. A bit of a hothead, but his heart’s in the right place.”

“Is he?” I ask,a genuine chuckle coming out of me.

I wasn’t so sure about that, but I kept any more thoughts to myself.

Marie led me to a small room with a single bed, a desk, and a storage locker. The walls were adorned with faded maps, sketches of Pandora’s wildlife, and handwritten notes. I wonder who used to live here before me,yet the thought makes my stomach turn.

“This will be your space,” Marie said, gesturing around. “It’s not much, but it’s private.”

“It’s perfect,” I said, though my voice lacked conviction.

Marie studied me for a moment, her expression softening. “I know this must be overwhelming. You’ve probably heard a lot of... propaganda about us. But we’re not your enemy.”

I nodded, though I wasn’t entirely convinced. I sigh,letting the tension melt off my shoulders. “What’s expected of me here?”

“For now, just settle in,” she said reassuringly. “Tomorrow, Max and Norm will wait for you in Unit 2 of the Avatar department. They want to debrief you more thoroughly. And the Sullys... well, they’ll decide where you fit into all this. Don't overthink it too much.”

The idea of being judged by Jake and Neytiri again made my stomach churn. “What if I don’t fit?”

Marie’s smile was kind but firm. “Everyone here has a purpose. You’ll find yours.”

Sleep didn’t come easily. Every creak of the metal walls and rustle of the flowing mountains outside kept me on edge. When morning finally arrived, I felt more exhausted than rested.

Marie was already up, bustling around the small common area with surprising energy. She handed me a mug of something that smelled faintly of coffee and motioned for me to sit. I’m pretty sure this coffee was smuggled,but I’m not complaining.

“First day,” she said cheerfully. I’m glad she’s friendly, honestly. “You’ll be fine.”

“I swear I feel like Katniss on the day of The Reaping.” I say in a dramatic whine,which seems to get a giggle out of her. I sip the drink, wincing at its bitterness. I wonder if they smuggled sugar too?

“What exactly is on the agenda?” I ask.

“Max and Norm will walk you through our operations here,” she said. “And then there’s another meeting with the Sullys.”

Of course there was.

Turns out, after Dr. Augustine’s death, Norm became the leader of the Avatar department, which divides into 4 units.

Unit 1 is meant for special engineers working on the Avatar link machines, ensuring they work smoothly and fixing any kind of error. These engineers are the silent backbone of the entire operation, constantly tweaking the machines to keep the delicate balance between human minds and their Avatar bodies intact.

Unit 2 is where doctors make sure that every Avatar driver, as well as their own Avatar, are in great health. Physical and mental. That means everyone must get blood samples once a month on different dates,and a psychological exam once every  three months. Turns out, that includes the Sully kids too, since they’re Avatar offspring, and that’s where I’ll be working for now.

Unit 3 is designed for research and development, where they study the intricacies of Na'vi physiology, the integration of human and Na'vi traits, and the environmental effects on both species. This unit is where new advancements are made—whether it's understanding how Avatar bodies react to Pandora's atmosphere over time or testing new methods to enhance the connection between the human consciousness and their Avatar. It’s here that the majority of the data from the Avatar link experiments is processed and analyzed.

Unit 4, however, is where the real magic happens. This is the heart of the Avatar program, where the Avatar link machines are housed. The research here is strictly classified, and I’m not allowed anywhere near it just yet. I was supposed to drive an Avatar too,actually back at the RDA base. I trained for it in the small period of time between getting invited into the next RDA mission to Pandora and the day I actually left,but once I got here, I had to wait around a month since my Avatar wasn’t fully developed yet.

…Guess I won’t be doing that now, and for the first time, I think I’m starting to realize that maybe I never will. It’s a strange feeling, but somehow, it’s becoming easier to let go.

Max and Norm were surprisingly welcoming, though their curiosity about my work with the Recoms was…palpable,to say the least. We spent hours checking over diagrams and notes, discussing everything from Avatar neural interfaces to the psychological conditioning of the Recoms.

When I mentioned the integration of emotional triggers—specifically anger and loyalty—both men looked genuinely horrified,their faces matching the ones from yesterday,during the meeting.

“That explains a lot,” Norm said grimly. “We’ve noticed the Recoms are more... ferocious than before. It’s like they’re out for blood.”

“That’s the point,” I said, feeling a pang of guilt again. “The RDA wants soldiers who are ruthless and obedient. Emotions are just another tool to control them,sadly.”

Max shook his head, his expression dark. “This is beyond unethical.”

I didn’t disagree, but the conversation left me feeling more conflicted than ever.

The meeting with the Sullys was no less tense than the first, though this time, I felt slightly more prepared. Jake sat at the head of the group, his expression hard but thoughtful. Neytiri was as fierce as ever, her sharp gaze cutting through me like a knife,and I could now see more unfamiliar faces, Na'vi and humans alike.

Neteyam stood to the side, watching me with an unreadable expression.

“Ralngeyä’a ‘upe, ma sempul?” Neteyam asked, breaking the silence. His voice, low and steady, carried the weight of his ancestors’ language, each syllable dripping with a subtle rasp that seemed to echo through the air. His eyes, sharp and intent, were locked on his father as he sought to understand what he had learned about me.

Jake sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Enough to know she’s valuable. The knowledge she has about the Recoms... it could give us an edge.”

“Fu kxawm alu säsyep srak?” Neytiri said coldly.

I bristled at her tone but forced myself to stay calm. I can’t believe she just asked if this is a trap. As if being stolen by an 8-feet-tall Na’vi alien prince is convenient in any way.  “What benefit would I get in doing that?I just want to survive.”

Mo’at spoke then, her voice calm but commanding. “Survival is not enough. If Eywa has brought you here, it is for a reason.”

Again with that. The mention of Eywa made me shift uncomfortably. “I don’t know anything about your goddess other than what I read in Dr. Augustine’s book. I’m just a scientist. I don’t…I don’t know how to see this world through your eyes.”

Mo’at’s piercing gaze seemed to see right through me. “You will learn.”

Jake leaned forward, his expression softening slightly. “Look, kid, I don’t trust the RDA as far as I can throw them. But if you’re willing to help us, we’ll give you a chance.”

Neteyam’s gaze lingered on me, and for a brief moment, his expression softened, almost imperceptibly.

“I’ll help,” I said finally,my stubborn nature present in my tone. “But only because I want to.”

The unspoken tension in the room eased slightly, though I could feel Neytiri’s lingering distrust like a weight on my shoulders.

Marie showed me to my room again after the meeting, giving me a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “You did well,” she said. “Better than most would in your shoes.”

“Thanks,Marie.” I muttered, though her words did little to ease my anxiety. With that,she closed the door.

As I settled onto the bed, staring up at the metal ceiling, I couldn’t shake the feeling that my life had just taken a turn I wasn’t prepared for.

And yet, as my thoughts drifted to Neteyam’s sharp gaze and the quiet way he had observed me during the meeting,I couldn't help but wonder what his deal was. The feeling’s odd to me,I haven't felt that in years. And…

It’s making me a bit hungry,honestly.

The hum of the station was the only sound that accompanied me as I wandered the dimly lit corridors of the human base. My mind was racing, too many thoughts colliding at once,still wrapped around the weight of the day’s meetings, the endless questions hanging in the air, and the awkward tension I couldn’t seem to shake when around the Sullys—particularly, him.

I passed through the narrow hallway, the fluorescent lights flickering overhead as the faint noise of distant conversations and equipment hummed from behind the closed doors. This place felt strange—like a temporary home that would never truly settle. Everything was different from Earth, but in a way, it felt like I was just an observer, caught in the web of something far bigger than myself.

The door to the common area creaked open in front of me, and I froze, half-expecting to see some of the other humans still up, working through their endless piles of research. But it wasn’t anyone of that nature.

It was him.

Neteyam.

The dim glow from the overhead fixtures cast soft shadows across Neteyam’s features. His skin, a rich azure blue, shimmered faintly with sweat from the humid air, giving him an almost ethereal quality. It was the kind of glow that made him seem perfectly at home in this vibrant, untamed world, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of awe.

His eyes, framed by dark lashes, gleamed in the low light—deep golden irises that seemed to catch every speck of light, as if holding the fire of the sun within them. When he turned to face me, the air between us thickened. It wasn’t just the sharpness of his gaze, but the weight behind it—a depth that spoke of untold stories and burdens carried for far too long.

His glowing markings,tanhì, like ancient symbols of power, danced subtly across his chest and arms, pulsing with life. They made him look otherworldly, as if he were an extension of the forest itself. The light caught the edges of his sharp jaw and high cheekbones, leaving me breathless.

I couldn’t help but admire the strength in his build—broad shoulders tapering down to a trim waist, his body honed and defined by years of living in the wild, of being shaped by this planet’s untamed forces. He moved with an effortless grace, the way he carried himself so confidently, yet with a quiet calm that contrasted with the power his frame promised. Even in the softest light, there was no mistaking the intensity of his presence. He was made to lead, to protect, to command. And somehow, in that moment, it felt as if he was commanding my attention without even trying.

The way his braids fell loosely around his shoulders only enhanced his wild, untamed aura. His posture was that of someone who was always alert, poised for action, but also mindful of his surroundings. It was a magnetic blend of strength and restraint that made him seem almost too perfect—too much like some unearthly figure carved from the very land he walked on.

For a moment, I couldn’t help but let my gaze linger on the way his muscles shifted beneath his skin as he moved, the tautness in his arms and chest giving away the sheer power he possessed. His lips, full and slightly parted, were set in a determined line, but I could see the curve of a smile beginning to tug at the edges, as though he had an idea of the effect he was having on me.

I inhaled sharply, suddenly aware of how close he was. I told myself it was just the quiet atmosphere playing tricks on my mind, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something far more dangerous—and intoxicating—about him than I was willing to admit.

He noticed me staring, of course—how could he not? And for just a split second, I saw something flicker in his gaze. A knowing look. A moment of awareness, as if he understood the effect he had on me. It was fleeting, gone as quickly as it came, but it left me feeling exposed, like he had seen through all the walls I had built up.

I wanted to be closer to him, to understand him better, but at the same time, I feared what that connection could mean, what it could cost.

Neteyam seemed to sense the shift in the air, his posture softening ever so slightly, as though recognizing the vulnerability in me that I hadn’t yet fully acknowledged. But even then, that guarded, untouchable strength remained in his eyes, a reminder that he was still a warrior, still a son of the Na'vi, and that nothing—no matter how much I longed for it—could change that.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice low, almost as if he was cautious about waking the others.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I muttered, crossing my arms, surprised at how defensively I’d sounded. My heart was still too heavy, still too confused from everything that had happened today, and now here he was—looking at me with that same intensity. The weight of his gaze made my skin prickle.

“I don’t sleep much,” he said, stepping closer, though not too close. “I have a lot to think about. You?”

“Ha,same.” I paused, unsure of how much I wanted to admit. “Just... getting used to everything here.”

He nodded slowly, studying me with an intensity that seemed almost... protective? I didn’t know what to make of it, or why he was still watching me so closely.

“Didn’t think you’d be the type to wander around at night,” I added, trying to mask the strange discomfort that was beginning to curl in my stomach. Fuck,I’m hungry.

“I’m not usually,” Neteyam replied, a slight smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes didn’t soften. “But there’s a lot going on, and... sometimes it’s easier to think when everyone else is asleep.”

There was a pause. I stared at the floor, letting the weight of the silence settle around me. It felt strangely familiar, like a habit from back on Earth. The stillness, the quiet—the world always seemed more… raw in the late hours of the night. Back then, I’d sit by the window of my apartment, gazing out into the dark city, and I could almost feel the weight of everyone’s existence, each one of us caught in the ebb and flow of life.

“You’ve been thinking a lot, huh?” I asked, breaking the silence.

He met my gaze, his eyes flickering with something soft, almost uncertain. “Yeah. About you.”

I blinked, confusion flooding through me, my heart suddenly racing. “About me?”

“About why you’re here. What you’re really doing here.” His voice had dropped to a quieter tone, less certain now, and I couldn’t quite tell if he was searching for the truth or if he was testing me, probing for something deeper.

“I mean…You and your grandmother did mention something about Eywa so,clearly,you know more than me.” I said with a soft chuckle,though my laughter died softly. “I didn’t think I’d be... dragged into any of this.”

Neteyam’s gaze softened, and for the first time, there was a small flicker of understanding in his eyes. “You didn’t want to be a part of the RDA when you came here, but you were stuck with them,” he said, as if he understood the weight of it all in a way that nobody else did. “You’re here because you are lost. Inside.”

I looked up at him, surprised. “How did you—”

“I’ve seen it before,” he said quietly. “People like you... forced into a situation they didn’t choose, trying to make something of themselves. Trying to belong.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. His words resonated in me, but the idea of belonging here—among them—was too overwhelming to comprehend. The thought made my heart ache. 

A silence fell between us again, but it wasn’t as uncomfortable as before. There was something in the air, something unspoken, tangible, like the world itself was holding its breath, waiting for something to happen.

Neteyam took a step forward, close enough now that I could see the faint glow of the tanhì on his face.  “I don’t think you’re meant to fit in. Some people aren’t meant to,but…You’ll find your place here. Just... take your time.”

I nodded. I wanted to trust him,I swear, but inside, I could feel a storm brewing. He had no idea what it would take for me to fit in, how hard it’s always been for me,let alone what I was still carrying—what was still hanging over me like a cloud.

“I don’t belong here,” I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not one of you.”

“You’re more than just a human,you know.” Neteyam said, almost as if to himself. “You’ve got something in you. Something... different.”

I blinked, taken aback. Before I could answer, he raised his hand, pointing toward the exit. “I should um…I should go. I have some errands to run early in the morning.” he said. “But if you need to talk...” He hesitated, then added,a warm smile making its way on his face. “I’m here.”

I didn’t know what to make of that. “Thanks. I’ll uh…think about it,yeah.” I said, feeling a pang of uncertainty claw at me.

He gave me a short nod, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment longer before he turned and walked off into the shadows of the hallway.

I stood there, the weight of everything pressing down on me. I wasn’t sure what was happening between us—if anything at all. But as I watched Neteyam disappear into the night, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were changing. And whether I liked it or not, I was right in the middle of it.

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 2.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

Pending...Pending...

Date: August 10th,2174.

Location: Marui,High Camp,Mons Veritatis,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 1:56 PM.

Life had always demanded more of me. As the eldest son of Toruk Makto the 6th, I was born into expectations as heavy as the mountains, molded by a legacy I had no choice but to carry. For as long as I could remember, my path was laid before me—protector, warrior, leader,big brother. It was a path carved in blood and sacrifice, one I couldn’t veer from even if I wanted to.

The war had changed everything. When the RDA returned when I was only 15,four years ago, they came with the same greed, the same hunger to strip Eywa’s creation of its breath. Their machines burned forests and poisoned rivers, their soldiers brought death with cold precision. But the war wasn’t just an enemy out there—it had carved itself into me.

I’d come closer to death than I care to admit. Fleeing to the Metkayina clan with my family,away from Quaritch and his puppets,was traumatizing,to say the least.

I always fit in the Omatikaya clan. I was already respected by so many clan leaders across the globe,already seen as a strong-willed,responsible and noble young warrior. The perfect next Olo'eyktan in line. But here...at sea...I was too stubborn to learn the ways of the Metkayina,scared I might lose myself. My ancestors. My traditions. The forest...Everything.

Sooner or later though,you always have to wake up back to reality. The RDA’s ships had pursued us relentlessly, their weapons tearing through the sea and air like the rage of a storm. After saving my siblings and our friend,Tsireya,my brother insisted on saving Spider as well.

I'll admit,I followed my mother's steps in distancing myself away from him as the years went by,though the brotherly bond we have carried ever since childhood lingered like a lost memory. Plus,I couldn't deny Lo'ak anything. Not in that moment.

As soon as we turned our backs to jump into the water,though...I felt it.

I’d hit the water hard, the force ripping the breath from my lungs. I fought to surface, but the panic, the crushing weight of the sea—it almost won.

All I could hear were Lo'ak's desperate cries pulling me on an ilu as he dragged me back to shore,along with the others. When I woke up, the first thing I felt was pain—white-hot and searing, burning across my chest where shrapnel had torn through flesh. The Tsahìk saved me, but she couldn’t erase the scar, jagged and cruel, that now ran from my collarbone to just above my heart,nor the memory that came with it. A bitter reminder of how close I’d come to losing everything.

That scar has stayed with me, a mark of survival, but also of failure. I should’ve been stronger, faster, better. I’m alive, but at what cost? The memory of my siblings’ terror, my parents’ fear—it’s a weight I still carry, even in moments of peace.

Sometimes,I still hear my mother's screams late at night. It's terrifying.

And now, the war feels like a constant shadow, lingering even in the quiet. I’ve learned to keep my thoughts guarded, my fears buried. We're back in the forest,thankfully,but we still live in the Hallelujah Mountains. The clan looks to me for strength, for guidance. They see a warrior who has proven himself time and time again. They don’t see the cracks beneath, the moments when I wonder if I’ve given too much of myself to a fight that may never truly end.

I’m of age now. Been for some time. I went through all the rites of passage,starting with becoming the youngest Omatikaya to make a clean kill on the Sturmbeest hunt,going through Iknimaya,and surviving Uniltaron,the Dream Hunt. After transferring into adulthood, an Omatikaya Na'vi has two things left to do: craft a bow from the wood of the fallen Hometree,and find a mate. Yet I've checked only one thing on the list,and I guess it's obvious which one I'm talking about.

I get it. I'm 19 years old now. Old enough that the elders murmur about a mate, about settling down and adding to the clan’s numbers. My parents don’t pressure me—at least not directly—but I see it in my father’s proud nods, my mother’s quiet glances. They’re waiting for me to choose, to find someone who will stand beside me as I carry the mantle of our people. Not to mention,my brother has already been mated to Tsireya,and some people among the clan are...nosy, to say the least.

But how can I think of mates when my mind is a battlefield? When every time I look at the stars, I see the faces of those we’ve lost? Love feels like a luxury I can’t afford, a vulnerability I can’t risk. I can feel my father breathing down my neck,slowly preparing me with Olo'eyktan training. I don't even want to be the next chief. Not anymore. I’ve buried the idea so deep within me that even the thought of connection feels foreign,and I can't remember the first time I really opened up to someone. They already have their image of me.

Fierce young warrior. Next chief in line. Son of Toruk Makto. Great,right?Why should I ruin that for them?

And yet, there’s a part of me that wonders—when will I be more than this? When will I be something more than a protector, more than a warrior? Is there space for Neteyam beneath the weight of it all?

The air was thick with the smell of burning metal and the acrid tang of gunpowder. Around me, the sounds of battle echoed through the forest—the hum of RDA machinery, the snap of Na’vi bows, the shouts of humans and my people alike. My heart pounded in my chest, not from fear, but from the weight of responsibility.

My feet barely made a sound as I landed on the roof of the human truck. Beneath me, I could hear their muffled voices, panicked and sharp. They were scrambling, caught off guard by our ambush. Good.

I moved to the edge, my bow drawn and ready, scanning for my next target. That’s when I saw…her.

She was crouched behind a crate, her wide eyes darting around in terror. Her skin was almost glowing in the dim light, and her hands trembled as they gripped a human weapon. She was small, fragile even, compared to the others.

A soldier, perhaps? No, she didn’t move like one. She was scared, out of place. A tablet was in her small and dainty fingers,and it looked oddly familiar,like the ones Max and Norm usually toy with in the lab. So a scientist,then. Doesn’t matter.

I drew my bowstring tighter, the arrow poised to fly. My target was clear, my purpose steady. Until I saw it.

An atokirina.

The seed of the sacred tree floated gently down, its soft glow cutting through the chaos. My breath caught as it hovered near the girl, circling her like it was studying her. And then it landed, just for a moment, on her shoulder. Didn’t this happen to my parents when they met?

Eywa was watching. Yet the girl didn’t notice.

I hesitated, my fingers loosening on the bowstring. This wasn’t normal. The atokirina didn’t just appear without reason, and they didn’t linger around those unworthy of Eywa’s blessing. Yet here it was, touching her—a human.

Her gaze was fixed on the ground, her breathing shallow. She had no idea the seed was there, no idea what it meant,too focused on her own panicked heavy breathing.

The voices of the other warriors faded into the background. For a moment, it was just her, the glowing seed, and me.

I lowered my bow.

I could hear my father’s voice in my head, a memory from years ago: "Eywa sees more than we do, Neteyam. Sometimes, the why is not ours to understand."

“Drop it,” I said, my voice steady despite the conflict brewing inside me.

She looked up, startled, her eyes locking onto mine. Great Mother,what pretty eyes she has. It’s as if I could see her entire soul through them. For a second, I thought she might try to fight, but instead, she set the weapon down on the truck bed. Slowly, carefully.

I studied her. She was different from the others—softer, quieter. And yet, there was something in her eyes that spoke of a hidden strength. And me?Well,let’s just say there was something almost…ethereal and noble in her fear that made me admire her.

“You do not belong here,” I said.

Her lips parted, as if she wanted to respond, but no words came out. The atokirina hovered again, as if to emphasize my point, before drifting off into the trees.

I couldn’t explain why, but I felt a strange pull toward her. Not sympathy—not yet—but curiosity. Eywa had chosen her for something, and it wasn’t my place to question the will of the Great Mother.

The sound of an AMP suit crashing nearby snapped me back to reality.

“Run,” I urged her, my voice low.

“What—”

“Go!” I barked, the command sharper now. She flinched but obeyed, scrambling off the truck and disappearing into the chaos. I cannot let the others see her,or she’ll get an arrow straight to her heart. The Great Mother put this responsibility in my hands,and I simply cannot let her get hurt. It must be a sign.

When the ambush was over, I retreated with the others, my thoughts still tangled around the human girl. The site was a mess,but at least we did what we had in mind. All of their cargo was either destroyed or stolen,and I doubt they won’t send out search parties for our heads.

Back at our camp, I sat by the fire, staring into the flames thoughtfully. Their dance was mesmerizing, a kaleidoscope of amber and gold licking against charred wood, with hints of blue at the edges where the heat was fiercest. The fire cracked and hissed, tiny sparks shooting upward to join the stars above. It felt alive, almost like Eywa herself whispered through its flickering rhythm.

Yet, even as the flames captivated me, my thoughts were elsewhere. On her. The girl in the forest.

Her scent still lingered faintly in my memory, something soft and sweet, like flowers I couldn’t name mixed with earth after rain. Her big eyes had been filled with fear, yet there had been something else too—curiosity, maybe? Defiance? I couldn’t decide which had unsettled me more. Her delicate frame, so unlike the strength we Na’vi pride ourselves on, seemed breakable, yet her spirit shone through her trembling form.

And then there was the atokirina. A single seed of the great tree had floated between us, its gentle glow bathing her face in an ethereal light. It had hovered briefly, as though weighing something unseen, before drifting closer to her. The moment felt... significant, as though Eywa herself had chosen her. Funny how she did not even notice such a blessing.

I had been ready to draw my bow, my duty clear in my mind. Sky People were a threat. A poison. It doesn’t matter that I share both human and Na’vi ancestors. Neither does the fact that my dad was one of them once. In my eyes,he is Na’vi. Just as everyone part of the Resistance. Yet the sight of her—so pure, so deliberate,so…utterly chaotic and scared—lingers in my thoughts. Something in me shifted then, a quiet nudge deep within my soul. I let her go, even when I knew my parents would question my decision.

Now, as the fire crackled before me, I couldn’t help but wonder: who was she? Why did Eywa send a sign? And why did I feel as though letting her go had set something far greater into motion?

The camp was buzzing with movement. The humans part of the Resistance were all in the biolab quarters, tending to their Avatars’ wounds. Lo’ak, my younger brother, plopped down beside me, his usual smirk replaced by a look of concern.

“You’re quiet,” he said, poking at the fire with a stick. “Sa’eyla said some shit went down. Something happen out there?”

I hesitated. “There was a girl.”

He raised an eyebrow. “A girl? Like, a human girl?”

“Yes,” I said, my voice firm. “And Eywa sent an atokirina to her.”

Lo’ak looked at me, confused, the stick in his hand forgotten. “What do you mean?”

I let out a loud sigh. Why is this interaction with her bothering me so much? “Just as I was ready to fire my bow, an atokirina landed on the head of this tawtute eve. As if telling me to lower my bow.”

“Are you serious?”

“I am.”

He let out a low whistle. “Well, that’s... something.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping. “What are you gonna do about it?”

I shook my head. “Nothing. For now. It’s not like I can do much, anyway.”

“Sounds like someone’s already in over his head,” came Kiri’s teasing voice as she approached from the shadows. She carried a bundle of herbs, her expression curious. “What’s this about an atokirina?”

Lo’ak smirked, scooting over to make room for her by the fire. “Our big brother here almost got bested by Eywa’s will.”

Kiri raised an eyebrow, sitting down. “That sounds interesting. Go on.”

I hesitated, but I knew Kiri’s connection to Eywa might help make sense of this. “There was a human girl. She wasn’t like the others—she didn’t fight. And an atokirina came to her. It lingered above her head. Right as I was about to…to kill her.”

Kiri’s expression turned thoughtful. She set the herbs aside, her hands resting on her knees. “Eywa does not make mistakes, Neteyam.”

“I know,” I said, frustrated. “But why her? She’s... she’s one of them. I have no idea why it’s bothering me so much. It’s like a buzz in my head.”

Lo’ak snorted. “Maybe the Great Mother’s matchmaking now.”

“Lo’ak,” Kiri said sharply, shooting him a look that silenced his grin. Her attention returned to me. “Eywa sees the heart, not the body. Maybe this girl is different. Maybe she’s meant to change something.”

I frowned, staring at the fire as its light danced across the darkened camp. “But how can I trust that? How can I trust her? I don’t even know her name and yet…” I hesitated, running a hand down my face. I really don’t need another teasing remark from Lo’ak.  “Gosh, I don’t even want to think about it anymore. Forget it.”

Kiri smiled faintly, her voice soft. “Sometimes, Eywa doesn’t ask for trust. She asks for faith.”

Lo’ak leaned back, looking between us with a sly grin. “Well, sounds like you’ve got a lot to think about, bro. Or maybe, you’re just scared of a tawtute girl.”

I shot him a glare, but Kiri nudged his arm before I could retort. “Leave him alone, Lo’ak,” she said, her tone amused but protective. “This isn’t something to joke about.”

Her gaze returned to me, her expression serious. “Whatever it is, Neteyam, trust that Eywa will reveal it in time. You’ll know what to do when the moment comes.”

And as the fire crackled between us, I couldn’t help but feel the weight of her words. Whether I was ready for it or not, my path—and hers—was no longer just my own.

In the days following the ambush, my thoughts lingered on her. I hadn’t told my parents yet. My father, Jake, carried enough weight on his shoulders. Every decision, every strategy, every skirmish—it was all for the survival of our people. He didn’t need my confusion about a single human clouding his focus. And my mother, Neytiri… she wouldn’t understand. Her hatred for the sky people ran deep, forged in blood and loss, and for good reason.

But I couldn’t ignore it.

One evening, I couldn’t sleep. Tossing and turning in my marui,only to be kept awake by my own thoughts. I hated whenever this happened. When no position was comfortable,my skin felt on fire and I would get more annoyed and tired by the second. I got up and slowly made my way through the campgrounds,passing by people alike,lost in their dreams.

What I’d do to be in their place.

Calling for my ikran, I waited as she descended gracefully, her form blending seamlessly with the star-speckled sky. When she landed, I took a moment to rest my forehead against hers, finding comfort in her steady presence. Together, we soared into the night, the cool wind sweeping away some of the weight on my chest.

Our destination was inevitable: the remnants of Utraya Mokri.

Once, long before I was born, this was the site of the great Tree of Voices—a place of profound connection where our ancestors’ memories thrived. But during the war, the humans came and destroyed it, severing that sacred link. In its place, saplings had begun to grow, fragile yet persistent, spreading slowly across the scarred land. They shimmered now, soft bioluminescent light dancing in the dark. It was a bittersweet sight—proof of Eywa’s resilience, but also a reminder of what had been lost.

I landed and dismounted, walking to the center of the grove. The soil was cool beneath me as I sat cross-legged, surrounded by the glow of the saplings. Gently, I wrapped the tendrils of a sacred vine around my queue, seeking solace in even the faintest connection. It wasn’t strong enough to download memories or speak with the ancestors, but it was something—a tether to Eywa. And maybe, just maybe, she would hear me.

The connection came swiftly, a wave of warmth and calm coursing through me, easing the storm within. I closed my eyes, lowering my head.

“Great Mother,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “Why her? Why a sky person?”

The forest seemed to exhale, its life humming softly around me. The glow of the saplings pulsed gently, as if in answer. I tried to silence my doubts, to push past the fear and confusion. My father had always told me to trust Eywa, even when her ways seemed inscrutable. But this... this felt different.

A memory surfaced unbidden—my father’s voice from years ago. He had been telling us about how Eywa had chosen him, a human, to unite the clans. “Eywa doesn’t see as we do, Neteyam,” he’d said. “She sees balance. Potential. She sees what we cannot.”

A force for balance,maybe. For something greater than I could comprehend.

The thought brought both comfort and unease. I opened my eyes to the glow of the saplings, their light steady and unyielding.

“Help me understand,” I murmured, my words barely audible. The forest around me thrummed once more, but no answer came—at least, not in words. Yet the stillness wasn’t empty. It carried something intangible, something that settled in my heart.

Perhaps the answer would come in time.For now, it would have to be enough.

The jungle was alive with its usual symphony of sounds—the distant calls of viperwolves, the rustle of leaves as a gust of wind swept through the trees. But my focus was razor-sharp, every movement of my body calculated as I followed the humans' trail.

Our scouts had reported another transport heading deeper into the forest, likely bringing more machines or weapons.My father had been clear: Observe, but do not engage. Watch, learn, and then strike if the time is right.

I crouched on a thick branch, hidden by the foliage, my bow resting lightly in my hand. Below me, the humans moved in a tight formation, their vehicles rumbling loudly and their voices carrying through the air. Among them, I saw her again.

She wasn’t dressed like a soldier. Her clothing was simpler, and she carried a small device in her hands, her gaze flicking between it and the terrain around her. She looked… out of place, as though she belonged somewhere quieter, somewhere far from the chaos of this world.

The same tug I’d felt during the ambush returned, stronger this time. But I forced it down.

She’s one of them.

And yet, I couldn’t look away.

We shadowed them for hours, moving through the trees as they trudged through the undergrowth. They stopped occasionally, setting up equipment and scanning the area. The girl seemed focused on whatever task she had been assigned,a small fierce nature in her body, but there was a tension in her posture, a hesitance in her movements.

As the group reached a clearing, my father’s voice came through the earpiece we used for communication.

“Pathfinder, fall back. Let them move on.Over.”

I hesitated. Something wasn’t right.

“Neteyam,” my father’s voice was firmer now. Shit. “Do you copy?”

“Yes,father.” I replied quietly. But I didn’t move.

The attack happened so fast, even I didn’t see it coming.

Viperwolves, drawn by the noise of the humans’ machines, erupted from the shadows. Their snarls shattered the fragile quiet, and the humans scrambled into action, shouting and firing their weapons. Chaos consumed the clearing, the air thick with smoke, fear, and violence.

And in the middle of it all, I saw her freeze.

Her wide eyes darted around, her body stiff as stone. She didn’t run, didn’t fight. Instead, she crouched low, pressing herself against a fallen log, trying to make herself invisible as the chaos surged around her.

I should’ve left. I should’ve followed my father’s orders, retreated into the safety of the trees. But the sight of her, small and vulnerable, anchored me in place. I couldn’t leave her.

Before I realized it, I was moving.

I landed silently behind her, my bow slung over my shoulder as I unsheathed my knife. The viperwolves hadn’t noticed her yet, but it wouldn’t be long before they caught her scent. I could see their noses twitching at the foreign human scent.

“Move,” I whispered, my voice low but firm.

She whipped around. For a moment, she didn’t react, her mouth opening slightly as if to say something. I could see it in her eyes. She recognized me.

“Holy shit,you��”

“Now!” I hissed, grabbing her arm and pulling her up.

She stumbled but followed, her legs moving awkwardly as I led her away from the clearing. The sounds of gunfire and snarls faded as we put distance between ourselves and the fight.

The forest was eerily quiet now, the aftermath of the viperwolf attack leaving a tense stillness in the air. She stood there, staring at me with wide eyes, her breaths coming fast and shallow. I could see the tremor in her hands, the slight quake of her legs—fear, exhaustion, or both.

I didn’t know what I was doing. Eywa’s will tugged at me like a strong current, the memory of the atokirina circling her vivid in my mind.

I raised a hand to my throat comm, pressing it lightly as I spoke in Na’vi. “Eagle Eye, I have a situation,over.”

“Holy shit,dude!Where’d you disappear?Over-” My brother’s voice came through, laced with confusion. I figure he fled back with the others. “What’s going on?”

“I found that girl again. The one I told you about. I’m taking her back to camp. Go on without me.Over.” I said, my words clipped. I’ll never hear the end of it.

“What?” Lo’ak’s shock was evident, his voice rising. “Why would you—”

“I’ll explain later. Tell Father and Kiri to meet me. And be ready. Over and out.”

Before Lo’ak could respond, I cut the connection and turned back to the girl. Her gaze flicked between me and the trees, as if she was debating whether to run.

“You’re coming with me,” I said firmly.

Her brow furrowed. “What? No, I—”

I didn’t give her a chance to finish. Stepping forward, I grabbed her wrist—not hard, but enough to guide her—and began leading her through the trees,calling for my ikran. She struggled against my grip.

“Let go of me!Are you fucking insane?!Why did you–” she hissed.

“We need to move,” I said sharply,cutting her off. “The forest isn’t safe for you.”

“Yeah,no shit.” she bit back,panic present in her tone. Does she think I’m kidnapping her?

When my ikran came to us, the girl froze, her eyes widening at the sight of the massive, winged creature. It let out a low growl, its sharp eyes narrowing at her.

“No way,” she said, shaking her head. “I am not getting on that thing.”

“You don’t have a choice,” I said, swinging up onto the ikran’s back and reaching down for her.

She hesitated, but when the distant laugh of a viperwolf echoed through the trees, she grabbed my hand and let me pull her up. She’s so light.

“Hold on,” I said, guiding her arms around my waist.

She muttered something under her breath, but she obeyed.

With a sharp call, I urged my ikran into the air, the wind rushing past us as we soared above the forest.

The Hallelujah Mountains loomed ahead, their floating peaks glowing faintly in the evening light. I focused on the flight, trying to ignore the growing tension I felt with her pressed against my back.

It wasn’t until we began our descent toward the high base that she spoke.

“You think I don’t understand you?”

Her voice, so sudden, startled me. She was quiet the entire ride and now she speaks?

I twisted slightly to glance back at her, my eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”

“When you spoke earlier, in Na’vi. I understood you. You’re taking me back to...to torture me or what?!” she said, her tone biting,but I could sense the fear and tremble in her tone. Feisty little thing.

My heart skipped a beat. She understood? How?

“You speak my language?” I asked, my voice sharp with disbelief.

“You didn’t answer my question!” she snapped, her grip tightening on my waist as the ikran dipped slightly. Fuck,I’m getting lightheaded with the way her tiny hands grip my waist like that. “Why does it matter? Why am I here?”

I didn’t answer immediately. We landed on a wide platform near the high base, the soft thud of the ikran’s claws echoing against the rock. She climbed off quickly, putting distance between us as she glared at me. How do I even explain to her?

“Tell me,” she demanded, her voice rising. “Why did you take me? Why didn’t you just leave me there?”

I slid off the ikran, keeping my gaze steady on hers. “You would have died.”

“I could’ve handled it!” she said, her voice trembling with frustration. Yeah,right. Surely you would have handled dying,little tawtute. “I didn’t ask for your help!”

I took a step closer, my expression hard. “And yet,you were frozen. If I hadn’t acted, the viperwolves would have torn you apart.”

Her anger faltered, and she looked away, her fists clenching at her sides. “I didn’t need saving.”

“You don’t understand this world,” I said, my voice softening. “It’s not like Earth. It will kill you if you’re not careful.”

She looked back at me then, her eyes burning with a mix of anger and something else—something I couldn’t quite place.

“Then why not leave me there?Away from the attack.” she asked quietly. “Why take me with you?”

For a moment, I didn’t know how to answer. The truth was tangled up in feelings I didn’t fully understand myself—in the memory of the atokirina, in the way Eywa seemed to whisper through the forest that she was important. In the way I felt when I stared into her eyes.

“Because we need intel from inside the RDA. And you seemed like a good fit,you know. Small,feisty scientist who didn’t show any signs of a threat. ” I lied, the words slipping out before I could stop them,though I kept a certain amount of smugness in my teasing.

Her brows furrowed in confusion,almost as if she was…offended. “What are you talking about?”

I hesitated, debating how much to tell her. I pet my ikran before I started walking into a cave. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” she said, crossing her arms.

Gosh,she’s so infuriating. Maybe I should have left her with the viperwolves. I turn around to her,simply cross my arms in defiance,towering over her small stature with a silent smirk. For a moment, she was observing, her gaze searching mine. I'm too stubborn to talk further. Plus,she's...pretty like this. She let out a sharp laugh, shaking her head. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe,” I said, a faint smile tugging at my lips. She’s got jokes,huh. I like that. “Takes one to know one.”

Her laughter faded, and she looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite read. “What happens now?”

I straightened, my resolve hardening. “I…don’t know. We’ll figure it out once we get there.”

She didn’t argue this time. Instead, she simply nodded, her shoulders slumping slightly as if the fight had gone out of her.

“And for the record,I’m not going to torture you. We’re not barbarians.”

I heard a weak chuckle leave her lips as she followed behind me,and…it was a pretty sweet sound. 

But I knew this was only the beginning. Whatever Eywa’s plan was, it had already begun.

[lortsyall]

Echoes of Eywa's Child.

chapter 1.

(Neteyam x Human!Reader series)

Pending....Pending....

Date: December 21st,2174.

Location: Office,Unit 4,Avatar Department,Human Outpost Biolab,Hallelujah Mountains,Pandora.

Time: 10:15 AM.

A long time has passed since I've known about this once alien planet. 4.4 light years away,a world full of life,like a lost paradise,sat idly in silence,away from the death and destruction that has scattered over Earth like a goddamn plague.

The ones before us saw the danger of it all,and yet they turned a blind eye,all because the climate change and the fractures in the atmosphere caused by the heightened levels of carbon dioxide wouldn’t affect them in the long run. They’d be dead anyway by the time it got too serious. So much for doing the right thing.

I wasn’t even born when they discovered Pandora,though until I actually got a grasp of reality and gained consciousness like everybody does at 5 years old,I’ve actually wondered if the so-called “Goldilocks Zone” existed somewhere else. If God smiled upon the universe and gave another planet the privilege of life.

Trust me,I have no idea how I even got here. So much time has passed since I’ve breathed in the polluted air of Earth,but I guess it’s for the benefit of all.

Guess we'll do it like they always do,huh?Start from the beginning of it all.

Pending...Pending...

Date: January 26th,2170

Location: Home,New York,USA, Earth.

Time: 12:43 PM.

Nobody ever thought that a girl like me would end up as the head leader of the Avatar Department,or an important person in the Resistance. And I gotta say,I never quite imagined myself becoming this. I dreamt of stages full of fans,as my fingers gave birth to heart-shattering riffs. Of poetry books released under my very own name,painting the pages with complicated feelings and sensations,all of a broken and imperfect human heart. Of having my own star on the Hollywood Walk of Fame,making my country proud as a well known actress overseas. Though all those dreams were scattered away,like a feather in the wind,the moment I decided to do what any other scared yet artistically talented person who wants to make her parents proud does.

I got into STEM. Mechanical and Biological Engineering.

And between the sleepless nights of studying,drowning myself in math equations and lab reports,I got a one-way ticket to Pandora in my first year of college,from the one and only Parker Selfridge. Head administrator of the RDA’s operation in Pandora. I can still feel the anxiety lingering on my tongue. They never came with internships for first years,so what was he here for?

He came in to give out 5 internships at my college,yet he left with a new potential piece for this chess game. Me. All thanks to a question he asked that I knew the answer of. And to think I almost didn't say the answer because I thought everyone knew it,but as it turns out,only I did. I sat in the hallway with my friends,staring dumbfoundedly at the bussiness card he gave me.

Only back then,the RDA were treated as heroes,important people who made way for a better life. For an undead Earth. The propaganda was all enough to trick a little mind like mine,though it’s funny how I always thought I was a step ahead of everyone. Life on Earth as I remember it was,to say the least…grey.

The cities were gray. The people were gray. The sky was…well,grey. And between spending the rest of my life here,with my dreams crumbling before my very own eyes,and going out there to actually fight for a new home for humanity,you can guess why I chose the latter.

Nothing out of the ordinary was happening for me here anyway. Gorgeous girl,great personality,they all said,but nobody ever settled. Nobody ever stopped in their tracks to take in the pure and total beauty of the chaos that is me,so I never had a serious partner before. And…I guess I was also excited to see if the stories are true.

How an actual human betrayed his own race for a…Na’vi tribe princess?At least that’s how they put it,and I don’t even want to mention how embarrassing it was for the RDA to come back to Earth with their tails between their legs back in 2154. No unobtanium. No money. No Avatars. No nothing. I was three when that happened,and I remember playing with my cousins with our cardboard toys as our parents watched the TV in confusion and…disappointment,so you can guess why they made Jake Sully seem like an actual demon,and the death of a colonel was a pretty big deal,after all.

Thing is,the RDA only shows you the pearl in their hands,and not the mouth getting ready to swallow you whole. And now I know why they were so understaffed. That total failure after 2154 made people lose trust in the RDA over the years. But to me?

The decision came easily. I needed something new.

What didn’t,though,was the pure work I’d have to do in just 6 months. Learning the language of the natives,the Na’vi. Getting to understand the differences between our anatomy and theirs. The fauna and flora. The tribes. The ecosystems. And…of course,Eywa herself,though I learned that from Dr. Grace Augustine’s botany books,not from the RDA’s training program. I honestly don’t know what Selfridge saw in me,when I know I have friends better in college than me,but I better not question it too much.

I tried telling myself that as soon as I got in cryo,it wouldn’t be a goodbye,rather a…see you later. Looking back at it now,I think it was just wishful thinking. For now,I was me,the girl nobody ever really took seriously. Just another face in a sea of others. Next time I wake up,I’d have to work in an entire department with people twice my age.

Pending...Pending...

Date: July 31st,2174

Location: Pandora????

Time: ?????

The cryo-sleep thaw was a nightmare and a miracle all at once. My lungs burned as they dragged in air for the first time in four years, my throat raw and dry, every breath tasting metallic. My joints ached as if I’d aged a century.

“Subject revived.” the sterile voice of the AI announced, flat and emotionless. I tried sitting up, only to slump back down against the cryo pod’s restraints. My body wasn’t mine yet—not entirely.

“You’ll feel like shit for a while,” said a woman in a crisp lab coat, her voice muffled as she checked my vitals. “Side effects of long-term cryo. It’ll pass. Welcome to the ISV Valkyrie, and congrats on making it to Pandora.”

The word hung in the air, heavy and surreal. Pandora.

The next few hours were a blur of debriefings and medical checkups. My body eventually began to cooperate, but my mind lagged behind. I shuffled through endless corridors with other groggy personnel, each of us too stunned to speak. We were like ghosts wandering through a ship that pulsed with life—technicians barking orders, holograms buzzing with real-time scans of the moon’s surface, the low hum of engines preparing for atmospheric descent.

When the ship finally broke through Pandora’s atmosphere, I felt it in my chest. The vibrations reverberated through every bolt, every panel, and through me. The world outside the viewport was alive. The dense, green forests sprawled endlessly beneath the floating Hallelujah Mountains, their bases wreathed in ethereal clouds. The sky shifted from pink to blue in the blink of an eye, its colors alien yet breathtakingly familiar.

For a moment, the hum of engines and the chatter of voices faded away. It was just me and the sight of this strange, beautiful moon—a place that could have been paradise if we weren’t here to ruin it.

The ship landed with a jarring shudder, and the real work began.

Adjusting to life on Pandora was like learning to breathe all over again. Everything about this place demanded respect—the gravity was lighter, the air richer, and the biology... unfathomable. Days blurred into weeks as I threw myself into the work at the Avatar Department.

My mornings began with syncing sessions in the link pods. Afternoons were spent reading over files on Na’vi biology, studying their neural networks and learning their language. The words felt clumsy on my tongue, but I persisted. When I wasn’t in the lab or out on field assignments to observe Pandora’s ecosystems, I was immersed in RDA briefings.

That’s where I first heard his name again.

Jake Sully.

The briefings spoke of him like a ghost, a legend who had long since passed into myth. But here, his name was a warning.

“Resistance forces led by Sully attacked the rail line near Sector 7 again,” one of the military officers growled during lunch at the canteen. “Three shipments of amp suits lost. That bastard and his little insurgents are crippling our operations.”

The room buzzed with tension as reports of attacks piled up. Sabotaged trains, stolen supplies, and destroyed equipment—it was chaos. To the RDA, Sully wasn’t just a traitor. He was the personification of everything standing in the way of their plans.

But the more I learned, the more conflicted I felt. The propaganda painted him as a terrorist, a man who had betrayed his own kind for a primitive cause. But every whisper I caught from the scientists who had been here longer told a different story.

“Maybe Sully isn’t the villain they make him out to be,” I muttered to Dr. Ellison one evening as we worked late in the lab.

He glanced at me, his expression unreadable as he pointed towards a CCTV with his head,as if to say "Shut up. They're listening."

"That’s dangerous talk,you know. Keep your head down. Do your work. They don't like questions.”

I nodded, but the seed of doubt had already taken root.

The attacks continued, each one more brazen than the last. The RDA ramped up their operations in response, sending more troops and machinery into the wilds of Pandora. But for every move they made, the Resistance seemed to be one step ahead.

And then there was the tension between the people I worked with. Some were diehard loyalists, determined to see the mission succeed no matter the cost. Others—mostly the scientists—spoke in hushed tones about the beauty of the Na’vi culture, the interconnectedness of the flora and fauna, and the destruction we were bringing to this world.

I kept my head down, just as Ellison had warned. But at night, as I lay in my bunk staring at the ceiling, I couldn’t help but wonder: which side of history would I be on?

Pandora had a way of getting under your skin. The longer I stayed, the more I realized it wasn’t just a place. It was a mirror, reflecting humanity’s best and worst instincts back at us. And somewhere in the middle of it all was me—a girl who had come here for a fresh start, only to find herself caught in a war she didn’t fully understand.

The attacks became more than background noise; they became a constant undercurrent to life on Pandora. At first, they were just distant explosions, reports in the briefing room, or muttered curses from the military personnel in the mess hall. But over time, the Resistance started to feel like a presence, a shadow that loomed over everything the RDA tried to accomplish.

Jake Sully wasn’t just a name anymore—he was a force of nature.

The first time I felt the Resistance's impact directly was during a supply run. It was supposed to be routine—a quick trip to outpost Beta-5 to deliver Avatar-linked monitoring equipment. I was tagging along as part of my training, mostly to observe.

But the Resistance didn’t care about schedules or safety zones.

The attack was fast and chaotic. One moment, the AMP suits ahead of us were trudging through the dense forest, their movements mechanical and predictable. The next, arrows rained down from the trees, followed by explosions that sent the towering machines toppling like broken toys.

The ambush hit like a storm—sudden, violent, and unstoppable.

One moment, I was riding in the back of the supply truck, surrounded by crates of equipment and two guards sharing a nervous laugh. The next, the forest erupted in chaos.

The first explosion flipped the lead AMP suit, its towering frame crashing to the ground with a deafening roar. The convoy came to an abrupt halt as arrows rained down from the trees, their sharp points glinting like falling stars.

“Get down!” someone yelled.

I hit the truck bed hard, the impact knocking the wind out of me. My mask rattled against the metal floor as I scrambled for cover behind a crate. The world around me dissolved into a cacophony of gunfire, shouting, and the eerie war cries of the Na’vi.

The guards fired blindly into the trees, their exo-packs hissing as they struggled to maintain their aim under the pressure. I peeked over the edge of the crate just in time to see one of the AMP suits stagger, an arrow embedded in its cockpit.

Panic set in. My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst. I wasn’t a soldier. I wasn’t trained for this. My human body was fragile here—one wrong move, and I’d be dead.

I clutched the sidearm they’d insisted I carry, though my hands were shaking too much to use it. What was I even doing here? This wasn’t supposed to be my fight.

A shadow passed overhead. My breath hitched as I looked up to see a Na’vi warrior leaping from a tree, his bow drawn, his movements impossibly fluid. He landed on the roof of the truck with barely a sound, his golden eyes scanning the scene below.

And then, those eyes locked onto mine.

For a moment, the chaos of the ambush melted away, leaving only silence between us.

He stood above me, perched on the edge of the truck’s roof, silhouetted against the glowing forest. His figure was tall and commanding, every line of his body taut with a warrior’s grace. The flickering bioluminescence of the nearby trees played off his skin, casting shifting patterns of light and shadow across his lean, muscular frame.

His face was angular and strong, the high cheekbones and sharp jawline unmistakably Na’vi, yet there was something softer in his expression. His golden eyes, large and luminous, fixed on me with an intensity that felt like a physical force. They weren’t filled with rage or cruelty but something far more unnerving—calculated curiosity, as though he were trying to read my soul in that single moment.

The streaks of blue war paint decorating his face didn’t fully mask the smooth, rich azure of his skin, which gleamed faintly under the pale light of Pandora’s twin moons. His braids, adorned with small beads and feathers, swayed gently with each subtle movement, a testament to the culture he carried with him like armor.

But it wasn’t just his appearance that struck me—it was his presence.

He radiated confidence, a quiet power that demanded attention without arrogance. It was the kind of aura that made the world around him seem smaller, less significant. The chaos raging around us felt like a distant hum compared to the weight of his gaze.

And yet, beneath that commanding presence, there was something deeper—an unmistakable grief, perhaps, or a burden that someone so young should never have to carry. It was in the set of his shoulders, the faint downturn of his mouth, and the way his hands gripped the bow with both precision and purpose.

“Drop it,” he said, his voice deep and steady, but with a softness that caught me off guard.

The words hit me like a command, though they weren’t barked or shouted. It was the tone of someone who expected to be obeyed—not out of fear, but respect.

For a second, I couldn’t breathe. The sidearm in my trembling hands felt heavier than it should, as if the very act of holding it was a betrayal. His gaze flicked to the weapon, then back to me, and I realized with a jolt that he wasn’t looking at me like an enemy. He was looking at me like a question.

“You are… different,” he said, tilting his head slightly, the movement as fluid and deliberate as everything else about him. His accent curled around the words, each syllable infused with the lyrical cadence of his native tongue.

I wanted to speak, to ask him what he meant, but my throat felt dry, my voice lost in the weight of the moment.

He crouched slightly, lowering himself onto one knee so we were nearly at eye level. Even then, his presence dwarfed mine. Up close, the details became sharper—the faint patterns of his skin, the slight twitch of his ears as they picked up the sounds of the battle behind him, the faint rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.

“You do not fight,” he observed, the faintest hint of curiosity threading through his words. His eyes lingered on mine, their golden glow unwavering. “And you… fear.”

It wasn’t an accusation. It was a statement of fact, delivered with neither judgment nor malice.

His hand shifted slightly, and I flinched, but he didn’t reach for me. Instead, he pointed at the weapon still lying on the ground between us.

The Na’vi reacted instantly. He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet with startling gentleness.

“You do not belong here,” he said, his voice low and urgent. “Run.”

“What—”

“Go!”

He released me and darted back into the fray, moving with the grace of a predator and the determination of someone who had everything to lose.

I didn’t run. Not immediately. Instead, I crouched behind the truck, my legs trembling as I watched the battle unfold.

He moved like the forest itself, blending into the chaos with a skill that seemed almost supernatural. He wasn’t just fighting—he was leading. The other Na’vi warriors followed his signals, their coordinated strikes overwhelming the RDA forces.

For every bullet fired, they had an arrow. For every shout of anger, they answered with a battle cry that sent chills down my spine.

And yet, amidst the violence, there was something strangely... noble about them. They didn’t kill indiscriminately. They targeted the machines, the vehicles, the weapons. It was as if they were trying to make a point rather than simply annihilate us.

When the ambush finally ended, the Resistance had melted back into the forest, leaving behind a convoy in ruins. Smoke rose from the wreckage, and the air was thick with the smell of burning fuel.

I stumbled out from behind the truck, my legs barely holding me up. Around me, the survivors were regrouping, their faces pale and shell-shocked.

“Medic!” someone called, dragging a wounded soldier from the wreckage.

But I couldn’t move. My mind was stuck on him—the way he’d looked at me, the way he’d spared me when he could have easily ended my life.

“You do not belong here,” he’d said.

The words echoed in my head as I stared at the destruction around me. For the first time, I began to wonder if he was right.

[lortsyall]

Hey everyone! I'm El, or Lortsyal, and I've been a fan of Avatar since it first came out in 2009, but I really dove deep into the fandom last October. I even learned Na'vi and got pretty good at it for a while,and read a bunch of their books, but over the summer, my Avatar obsession took a backseat.

I really like poetry,playing the guitar,Metallica,Kings of Leon,Grimes(just her music, don't come for me),polaroids, painting,fruit of all kind, perfumes and shiny,slow mornings. I'm majoring in mechanical engineering.

Recently, though, I noticed the fandom seems to be slowing down, which is a bummer, especially with the next movie coming out next year. Now that I'm on winter break and have tons of free time, I’m feeling super inspired and decided to make an account here. I’m currently working on a multi-chapter series featuring a human reader and Neteyam Sully, and I can’t wait to share it with you all!

I’ve always loved the world of Avatar—the rich culture, the stunning visuals, and the connection to nature—but writing about it has brought a whole new level of excitement for me. My series will dive deep into the relationship between the human reader and Neteyam, exploring both emotional depth and the challenges they face together in the beautiful but dangerous world of Pandora.

I’m hoping this story will capture the magic of Avatar while adding some unique twists, and I'd love to hear any thoughts or feedback from fellow fans along the way. If you’re passionate about the world of Pandora, or just love a good adventure, stick around for a good time!! This is a safe space,after all. :)