4. Merging Reality

Earth Year: 2251 AD. 96 Years After Final Contact.

Life was a fog for Jake Sully, a hazy world that shifted and changed with every word, every thought. Where am I? When shall I awake? Only darkness greeted his questions, fading into the background of his mind like the remnants of a dream, floating away from memory. Then he was floating in the skies, guiding warriors into fearsome battle, only to wake up in the distorted reality of the Sky People, his people.

Such dreams were nightmares, a haunting reminder of what he had been. During his more lucid moments he would realize that he would never return there, that he was still at home among his true people. Omaticaya came and went, telling him of things they had done, of successful hunts and tragic failures. Was he Olo'eytkan? Even he did not know the answer to this, but it no longer mattered. No one asked for his decisions anymore, he had long since given up such a role. To all Omaticaya, he was the Last Dreamwalker, Turok Makto, a quasi-mystical figure, somehow still drawing breath despite his extreme age.

Memory slipped again, and he fell into the blackness, his thoughts derailing, his mind losing its sharpness. Neytiri was whispering in his ear, telling him of her love, of their daughter's. Norm was there, apologizing for some terrible transgression even as Jake assured him everything would be okay, that he truly understood.

"Jak'suly" The words echoed in his ears, awakening him from his dream-like slumber. He was underneath Hometree, sitting in a chair of wood and vine, at the center of a great gathering. Omaticaya were around him, chanting as others brought forth the latest kill, proof of the successful hunt. A warrior stood before him, a face the he somehow recognized as his own. Memory stirred unbidden from the depths of his mind. This is my grandson. What was his name?

"Jak'suly, another has completed the Trial, we bring meat for the bellies of the People." The warrior said, his voice so familiar and so distant at the same time. He had brought a great bounty of food, many yeriks had been slain for the feast before him.

"You have done well, this was a good hunt." Jake could only say. The warrior beamed at this, pleased at the high praise Toruk Makto had offered him.

"It is only through your teaching that I am Olo'eytkan, that Omaticaya prosper." The warrior replied. So I gave that up some time ago, Jake reasoned, his mind beginning to return to him.

"Eytukan, is Jak'suly well today?" A child asked the warrior. Eytukan, so that was his name. Jake remembered again, how their grandson had been named for the great Omaticaya leader who had died in defense of the first Hometree. It was a good, strong name and it suited the new leader well. His skills with bow and knife must be great to provide for such a feast.

"I am well, young one." Jake answered, smiling at the little girl who tugged on his hand. He reached for her, his old joints aching, as he deposited the young one on his lap. She too, looked familiar somehow. Many among the Omaticaya were relatives of his somehow, he realized suddenly. Eywa had allowed those first generations to replenish their numbers before the birthrate slowed again. Now many matings were occurring with betrothed of other clans, as was the traditional method to introduce new blood into the clan. But that hadn't been necessary with the first generations after finding the new Hometree. The Avatars had introduced much new blood into the clan, revitalizing it once again. And now he stood in front of his people, many who were among his descendants.

"Father of my Father," Eytukan began. "It is good to see you of full mind tonight."

"Perhaps not of full mind, but well enough." Jake replied solemnly. It was a terrible thing to know your mind was slipping, that your memories were becoming jumbled and hazy. "And who is this?" He smiled at the young child in his lap.

"I am Neytiri." She smiled back before scrambling away to obtain her share of the growing feast. Jake frowned at the name, remembering his mate, passed on so long before. How long had it been? How long since he had heard her voice or felt her soft breath on his skin? How long since anyone had dared to call him skxawng? It was well that names remained in the memory of the clan, that his descendants remembered those who came before. Yet it still hurt to hear it spoken aloud.

"Eytukan, how many seasons has it been since..." Jake let the last bit remain unspoken.

"It has been many seasons, much more than twenty since she has returned to Eywa." The warrior answered, a sadness crossing his features. "You always ask this when you return to us. Do not let yourself be troubled, she is with Eywa."

"I have lived too long, son of my son. Do not wish this on yourself, to outlive those you love." Jake answered.

"I do not. Yet Eywa has not taken you from us, and I am glad. Our great mother must have another purpose for you, some last thing that must be done." Eytukan offered. Whether it was simply his fading mind or whether it was simply impossible to understand, Jake had no idea what Eywa might want from him, what final task was out there unfinished.

"I must go, Jak'suly. There is much to be done. I will bring food and drink, that you remain strong for Eywa's need." Eytukan said simply, walking off into the growing festivity beyond. For his part, Jake watched dispassionately, his mind already beginning to fade again. What is my final purpose? He wondered, reaching for the empty scabbard still strapped to his weathered body. Fidgeting, he looked at it curiously. Where am I?