The RDA had already secured the Mangkwan Clan, their alliance sealed through force and fear—but Varang had insisted it wouldn’t be enough. There was another clan. One she spoke of carefully, her confidence thinning every time their name was mentioned.

When the ships descended, the air felt heavier. Varang and her warriors dismounted first, followed closely by the RDA troops as engines powered down behind them.

They weren’t alone for long.

Figures emerged silently from the treeline, surrounding them in a wide, unbroken circle. Weapons were raised but unmoving, as if waiting—not to attack, but to judge.

Then she appeared.

A Na’vi woman stepped forward from the central dwelling, her presence alone enough to still the air. She didn’t rush. She didn’t threaten. She simply watched.

Quaritch felt it before he understood it—the instinctive awareness that this wasn’t just another leader, another obstacle to control. There was intelligence in her gaze, something sharp and unyielding.

She didn’t look at the humans first.

Her eyes settled on Varang.

And in that moment, Quaritch realized this clan wasn’t ruled by fear—but by something far more dangerous.