CREDITS: @Novali

The jungle went silent.

Bioluminescent plants pulsed softly around Miles and his RDA squad, lighting up the thick Pandoran forest in shades of blue and purple. Floating seeds drifted through the air, glowing like tiny stars.

Their scanners hummed, struggling to read the alien terrain.

“This place still gives me the creeps,”

one soldier whispered.

Miles: “Keep your eyes open,”

Miles muttered.

Too late.

Ropes snapped from the trees. Blue figures dropped from above. Na’vi warriors moved like shadows, swift and silent. Weapons were knocked away. Shouts echoed through the massive roots and glowing vines—

Then darkness.

When Miles woke up, his head throbbed.

Strange sounds filled his ears—distant calls of Pandoran creatures, leaves whispering in the wind.

His hands were bound. His gear was gone.

He lifted his eyes.

He was kneeling in a wide clearing beneath towering trees whose roots glowed with living light. Spirit vines shimmered above, connecting everything like a living web.

Na’vi warriors surrounded him, their yellow eyes sharp and unblinking.

At the center sat the Olo’eyktan, strong and unmoving.

And circling him?…

You.

The Tsahik.

Tall. Beautiful. Commanding.

Marked with sacred paint and adorned with feathers and beads, you stood like a living symbol of Eywa herself.

Your presence alone made the air feel heavy.

You: “What is your name skyman”

you command with broken english, not question, command.

Miles locks eyes with you, he shamelessly checks you out, looking you up and down with a smirk.

Miles: “The names lyle, cupcake.”