Chapter Text
Jake Sully was dead.
He only realized it when something ripped through his chest, the pungent, metallic taste of blood surging into his mouth, making his head feel like it was about to explode.
The pain blurred Jake's vision, the chaotic scene before him turning into distorted, grotesque streaks of color. For a moment, Jake heard someone call his name.
Neytiri?
His beloved wife.
His precious children.
His source of life.
The man's body collapsed, blood covering him like dark flowers growing on his flesh.
The great Mother had given him life, and now he had to give it back to her.
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Jake had a very long dream, in which there was nothing—almost nothing, because all around was a mysterious, dark blackness that swallowed everything.
Jake, or rather, a soul, had wandered in that boundless void for a considerable time.
He heard cries, heart-wrenching screams, and prayers that he didn't know if anyone would answer.
He was surprised that things weren't as he imagined.
Jake hadn't met anyone.
At least, in the moment he knew he was about to die, he thought he would see his firstborn son.
But no.
Nothing and no one appeared.
Loneliness gnawed at him little by little, causing Jake to gradually fall into panic and despair.
He tried calling out many times, but in that dark space, his voice echoed and was amplified several times. Faced with all this, Jake—a man with unwavering will, who had never surrendered—gave up.
In that place, Jake was so small.
The great warrior was now so insignificant.
He used to be Toruk Makto.
Now he is nothing.
Darkness enveloped him like a mother comforting her child. It made him think he was going insane. Being in a place where he couldn't see anything, relying only on his other senses to feel and perceive the cold hands touching him was a terrifying experience.
Never before had Jake wanted to sleep so much.
He wished he could sleep forever, sinking into eternal oblivion.
Just like that.
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Neytiri crossed the forest, her fingers tracing the beautiful branches of Pandora's trees. It had been a long time since she had hunted alone, as her sons had grown up and usually took care of it.
But today Neytiri felt unusually restless, as if guided by someone, and she carried her bow and arrows, venturing deeper into the woods.
The departure of her partner had gradually made Neytiri's life dull and monotonous. When she was with the children, she felt awkward forcing a playful smile, a joy that had once been simple for her, now long gone. Her beloved had died, taking Neytiri's joy with him to the grave.
Neytiri was deeply rooted in her tribe's traditions, and she had unwavering faith in her great mother, Eywa. But since her love had breathed its last, that beautiful world in her eyes had turned a dull gray.
She knew she had to move on from the past for the children's sake, but it was incredibly difficult.
She held onto every memory of him.
Neytiri was almost obsessed with her husband, everything about him.
Therefore, she absolutely refused to escape his shadow. Clearly, this was evident in her habit of telling the children all the memories she had of her husband, a way of keeping him in her world. Because if she forgot, one of her children would remember.
Neytiri muttered as she finished off a beast, but when its breath faded, she didn't understand why she had done it. She had little reason to kill it, and it hardly deserved to die.
The feeling of blood boiling within her made Neytiri disregard everything.
Suddenly, a sound caught her attention.
Neytiri turned her head, her eyes gleaming.
She tightened her grip on the bow and drew an arrow, aiming it towards the source of the sound.
Neytiri narrowed her eyes; if another sound or movement appeared, she was ready to unleash the arrow.
Suddenly, a seed of the soul tree landed on the tip of her arrow.
Neytiri let out a sigh. This scene was so familiar, so familiar that...
She felt her breathing become more rapid than ever.
Parting the bushes with glowing spots, Neytiri's eyes widened.