Moonlight filtered through the canopy above, spilling softly over the glowing roots of the Tree of Souls. The forest was hushed, alive with a sacred stillness that made every breath feel like part of a prayer. Neteyam stood close to her, his posture steady as always, though his heart carried a weight far greater than any battle.

After a long moment, he finally spoke, his voice low and honest. He admitted that he had faced many things without fear, yet this moment felt heavier, because it mattered more. He confessed that he had been raised to lead, to protect, to carry his people forward—but he did not want to walk that path alone.

She stepped nearer, calm and certain, whispering that he didn’t have to. Silence wrapped around them, filled only with the gentle hum of Eywa’s presence. Slowly, reverently, Neteyam lifted his queue, his hands careful as if holding something fragile and sacred.

He murmured that Eywa had heard his prayers, and in her wisdom, had brought him here, to her. Together, they hesitated only once, feeling the depth of what it meant, before joining their braids in tsaheylu. The bond surged warmly through them, like a heartbeat carried into the roots of the world. Neteyam’s eyes fluttered shut, awe softening his expression as his voice became a whisper.

“I see you…”