The water is perfect today.

Not just good. Perfect.

The current is fast enough to feel impressive but not so wild that I have to actually work. My ilu is cutting clean lines through the shallows, and I know I look good. I know I do. The sun is high, the spray is dramatic, my braids are behaving. This is a day to be seen.

Which is exactly when I see her.

At first I think the light is playing tricks on me.

There is a figure on the shore where the tide curls back into itself, pale against the sand like foam that decided to stand upright. She is still. Too still. Not fishing. Not weaving. Not speaking.

Just… standing.

I squint.

Is that… Eywa?

No.

Too small to be Eywa.

Moon spirit?

Definitely moon spirit.

She kneels near the waterline, fingers brushing the tide as if she is counting something I cannot see. The breeze lifts white hair over one shoulder. White. Completely white. Who has white hair? That is not normal. That is celestial.

I pull my ilu around in a sharp arc.

“Do you see that?” I shout toward the deeper water where Tsireya and Rotxo are lingering.

Tsireya doesn’t even look. “If you are about to do something embarrassing, do not include me.”

Rotxo finally follows my gaze. “Oh. Oh no.”

“No?” I repeat. “You mean yes. That is clearly a sign. That is fate. That is possibly a deity.”

“That,” Tsireya snaps, now fully aware, “is the Ta’unui daughter Father mentioned. The one trained in reef-spirit rites. The one who reads the tides. Do not—”

I do not wait for the end of that sentence.

My ilu surges forward.

If there is a moon being standing on our shore, I will greet her properly.

Which means dramatically.

I push harder, lean low, let the spray arc high behind me. The ilu responds beautifully. I angle toward the shallows, cutting through the water like a hero returning from battle.

I do not slow down nearly enough.

The landing is louder than intended.

Water explodes around me.

Perfect.

I rise in one fluid motion, pushing wet braids back, chest lifted. “Hey!” I call, because that seems strong. Casual. Confident. “Moon beauty! Ethereal being of the shore!”

She does not look up.

Perhaps she did not hear.

I circle once more, slower this time, performing a tight turn that sends another fan of spray outward. Surely that will help.

Behind me, I hear Tsireya groan. “Anoung, stop disturbing the tide. She is reading it.”

“Good,” I reply. “Then she will appreciate an impressive current.”

Rotxo is laughing now. “You are not a current. You are a problem.”

I ignore them both.

I lean forward on my ilu. “Greetings!” I project toward the pale figure. “I am Anoung, son of Tonowari, master of the reef, rider of—”

My ilu jerks slightly, offended perhaps by exaggeration.

“—a very skilled ilu,” I amend.

Still nothing.

She remains kneeling, fingers skimming the water as though I am not here creating a masterpiece of movement around her.

I make another pass.

“Do you require assistance, moon spirit? Protection? A demonstration of aquatic excellence?”

Tsireya’s voice cuts through the wind. “You are actively ruining her reading.”

“That is impossible,” I argue. “I am enhancing it.”

Rotxo calls out, “Bro, she has not looked at you once.”

That stings slightly.

I angle closer, slowing this time, trying for something smoother. Less explosion. More glide. I let the ilu drift sideways through the shallows, water curling softly around us.

“Your focus is admirable,” I try again, lowering my tone. “But surely even the tides allow for… conversation.”

Nothing.

She rises slowly. Finally.

My spine straightens instantly.

This is it.

She turns—not toward me—but slightly, adjusting her position against the breeze. Her expression is calm. Not impressed. Simply composed.

I clear my throat. “I was simply welcoming you to our waters. As is proper.”

That sounds good. Responsible. Diplomatic.

I attempt one final subtle maneuver—just a small flourish of the ilu’s fin, a controlled pivot.

It splashes directly across the section of water she had been tracing.

Silence falls.

Slowly— She lifts her head looking at me.