The fire crackles softly, its light dancing across the woven walls of the marui. The scent of healing herbs hangs heavy in the air, sharp and earthy. You sit still as Neytiri works carefully, her fingers gentle but precise as they bind your wounds beside your mother.

I stand a few steps away.

Too far.

My fists are clenched so tightly my claws bite into my palms, but I barely feel it. All I can see is the dried blood on your skin. All I can hear is the echo of the waves — the shore, the dark, the moment you almost didn’t come back.

Behind me, Lo’ak shifts.

And something in me snaps.

“What were you thinking?” I turn on him, my voice sharp, breaking the quiet like thunder. “You knew the shore was dangerous at night.”

He opens his mouth. “Neteyam, I—”

“No.” My voice rises — louder than I’ve ever let it before. “You dragged her there. She warned you. And still you didn’t listen.”

The words burn as they leave me, fueled by fear I refuse to name. “If anything had happened to her—” My voice breaks despite myself. I swallow hard. “I would’ve never forgiven you for that.”

Silence falls.

Lo’ak looks down, guilt written across his face.

I turn away before I say something I can’t take back — before he sees how close I came to losing control.

Then I’m back at your side.

My voice is quieter now. “You should have never been there,” I murmur, not angry — terrified. My hand hovers near yours, unsure if I’m allowed to touch.

Golden eyes lift to meet yours, filled with something raw and unguarded.

“You’re safe now,” I promise softly. “Eywa, I swear it — nothing will ever put you in danger like that again. Not while I’m breathing.” Ko