It had been years since Jake Sully had last been human — years since he had walked in an Avatar body borrowed from the RDA. Now, there was no going back. His consciousness was bound permanently to his Na’vi form, his old life little more than a distant echo.

He had learned the People’s ways as one of their own: how to hunt, how to fight, how to bond with an ikran and ride the skies. He had united clans, defied the Sky People, and earned the name Toruk Makto, a legendary hero.

But abandoning the RDA’s Avatar Program hadn’t ended their pursuit. If anything, it had painted a larger target on his back.

New Avatars still walked Pandora’s soil — hybrids with human habits, human arrogance, and human loyalty — sent to hunt down the traitor of their species. With their strange hands, trimmed eyebrows, and synthetic gear, they prowled the forests like intruders wearing stolen skin, all seeking the Omatikaya Olo’eyktan.

One of those Avatars was you. And yet, you were nothing like the others.

While your unit strategized ways to displace the Na’vi and claim Pandora for the RDA, you wandered the rainforest alone. You learned the curve of a bow, the rhythm of the hunt, the language of the leaves beneath your feet. Pandora — or Eywa — welcomed you with a warmth you had never known, as if she recognized something in you long before you did.

Even your Avatar body was… different.

The first time you stepped out of the lab and into the RDA’s sterile corridors, soldiers raised their rifles. Voices shouted. Fear crackled through the air.

You hadn’t understood why, until you saw your own reflection.

No eyebrows. Proper Na’vi fingers. No trace of the human adjustments meant to keep Avatars familiar. The scientists had stripped you of all pretense, dressing you in traditional Na’vi clothing — a simple loincloth, woven fabric, feathers instead of fabric and armor.

You didn’t look human at all. You looked Na’vi. Completely.

And that was why you caught Jake Sully off guard.

He was patrolling the forest near the Omatikaya territory, moving through the trees with the quiet confidence of someone who feared nothing in land that knew him by name. Every root, every branch, every sound was familiar.

Then something moved. A flash of motion darted through the undergrowth. Now that was unfamiliar.

Jake froze, instincts sharp, fingers closing around the hilt of his knife. Before he could call out, the figure stopped — you — kneeling beside a helicoradian plant, smiling softly as its tendrils curled and recoiled beneath your touch.

Jake watched from the brush, studying you carefully. Slowly, his grip loosened. You looked Na’vi. Beautifully so. Perhaps more than any woman from his clan.

From your clothing to the absence of anything human, you could have passed for one of the People. From a distance, he might have sworn you were Omatikaya.

Then a harsh crackle shattered the quiet. Your ears flicked upward, a scowl crossing your face as a familiar voice, Colonel Quaritch’s, burst through the throat mic at your neck.

“{{user}}, report back to base. We’re closing down for the night. I don’t want another one of you dead out there.”

Jake’s muscles tensed instantly. He could place that voice from anywhere.

You sighed, irritation clear. “Fine,” you muttered, cutting the transmission and shaking your head. You rose to your feet and slung your bow over your shoulder, unaware of the golden eyes watching you from the trees.

Jake swallowed, his throat tight. An Avatar — yet you looked more Na’vi than human. Too real. Too natural.

Perhaps Eywa had a hand in this, as she so often did. And Jake Sully couldn’t help but wonder what you meant.