The spirit drifted as a slow-moving comet through the black void. Light rippled from its core in response to the fair voice calling its name. It tried to answer, but the ball had no mouth to speak, so it flitted towards the sound, with each echo bringing the lost will-o'-wisp closer. Across the black firmament, a dim light materialized, and a star was birthed into existence. It burned in the black sky as a single beacon to draw the little one home. The blur sped towards the mother light and was engulfed by heaven's embrace.

Zhâng found himself staring at a fluorescent ceiling. Something obstructed one eye, so he reached to remove whatever it was; however, his left arm would not budge, so he used his right. After freeing the eye of the cotton pad, it could perceive light but nothing else—it had gone blind. His fingers drifted, and he felt the third-degree burns down his face.

Casey… That was what struck his mind first upon recalling the accident. Did I warn you in time? … Are you alive?

Immediately, he removed the nasal cannula with his returning strength. Tossing aside the piping, he shifted over to free his left arm, assuming it was strapped down, but there was nothing there to free. Minutes passed with him just staring at what was no longer there. He eventually sat up and remained that way for an indeterminable amount of time, his mind drifting in and out of awareness like a spirit that hadn't fully woken. What he wanted was a face, something he could connect to, an expression that he could register, someone to tell him all that had happened. More and more time passed before Zhâng noticed the photo on the wall. He turned to place his feet on the ground, utilized his teeth to rip out the IVs, and then came to a stand but wobbled so badly he had to sit down again. Realizing he was also linked to a catheter, Zhâng swore and spent the next few moments stripping that off too. Determined, he stood again, and though shakey, he did not fall as he walked over to the desired photo. His eyes were on CJ, smiling in that encapsulated moment alongside her equally happy friends. Removing it off the wall, he kept taking in that happy day, then looked around the room, registering all the tokens his team had left: the art, the flowers, the baseball cap, the books, the little direhorse, everything. He must have been out for a while, he deduced, but in that time, his team did not forget him.

He walked to the door to see if he could call for a nurse; instead, he was met with dead bodies—dead recombinant bodies. Zhâng staggered, propping one hand against the wall as he approached the casualties. He bent down to feel the wrist when he discovered the four fingers—he breathed instantly. His hand hovered across the uniform, over the bloodied patch, but there were no clues to tell him why this Na'vi was wearing it.

"You're awake?!"

Zhâng's head whipped around and was shocked to see Parker Selfridge, who was dressed as a HAF soldier.

"How the heck did you wake up?"

"Parker…?" The giant teetered forwards but lost his footing and stumbled.

"Easy, easy," Parker advised upon rushing over. "Wow, can't believe you're up. You've been in a coma for months."

"Months—?" the patient gulped.

Selfridge looked up and down the dingy halls for any sign of people, but they were alone.

"What happened here?" Zhâng asked after stabilizing himself against a wall.

"What hap—? You mean, you didn't kill these guys?"

"I just woke up."

"Crap. You don't know. Well, I mean, it's good that you're up, but it's a heck of a day to wake up to. There's a supposed rebellion going on, and Bridgehead's reporting that you guys are behind it—not that I ever believed that. I guess the suits in charge of our protection weren't watching our backs when these Na'vi warriors climbed our fricken one-hundred-foot wall."

"Um, I think these guys are serfs."

"Oh. Oh, that would make sense."

"Do you know where my team is?"

"No clue. Uhh… Look, I'll be real with you. You're the only one I knew I could reach," Parker confessed, scratching his pencil-shaped hairdo.

Zhâng strained his eyes but was grateful nonetheless. "Why are you in that uniform?"

"Oh, get this. Because the whole city's on lockdown, you can't get anywhere. I had to ride under combat trucks to get here. At one point, I was almost discovered and ran down an alley with some goon shooting at me. Now, my face is probably on some wanted list. Then I tripped over something—that's how I got this bruise—discovered it was a dead soldier and uh, well—"

"You swiped a dead man's uniform?"

Parker blanched. "It was the only way I could get past the checkpoints! I had to see if you were okay. CJ would kill me if I let anything happen to you."

"She's okay?!"

"Of course, wait… Oh. Well, knowing her, she's probably fine. I mean, she's tough. She's one of you guys."

"So you don't know?"

"I don't know where anyone is."

Zhâng bobbed his head. "Okay, I think I have a handle on what's going on. What's the situation outside?"

"Chaos. Military everywhere."

"Got it. I need to get out of this gown. See if you can start removing that man's gear."

"Me?"

"It didn't stop you before."

"Right…" Parker nervously got to work stripping the dead Na'vi. After the pants were removed, he was working on the shirt when he noticed Zhâng was struggling with the hospital gown. "Uh, you need any help?"

"I can manage," he insisted, but in his attempt, lost his balance. As he rested, the horrific reality that he would forever be without his other limb overpowered his mind. Parker decided to step in, to which the soldier yielded. "Guess I…do need some help…" It took some doing and a few swallows of embarrassment, but after patience and teamwork, the giant was comfortably in a pair of pants. "There's something else I need to get. Come with me." Zhâng returned to the room, where he took down the team photo and gave it to Parker with the polite request to remove it from its frame.

"Oh, hey, I remember that day. You guys were jerks."

"What did we do to you again?"

Parker had moved to a table stand to perform the task. Once he slipped out the photo from its casing, he turned back to the Marine and said upon giving it, "Dunked me in a water barrel. Learned the hard way my EXO pack wasn't watertight."

"If I recall…Tyler had to give you CPR." The recombinant tried to hide the chuckle that arose after the memory was pulled off the shelf and dusted—they had drawn straws before the medic just took responsibility.

Although the victim of that event, Parker noticed the comfort it brought Zhâng and was reluctant to call him back, but time was a luxury. The overseer tapped the blue arm. "We should…probably get going while we still can."

Being in full agreement, the man nodded and tucked away the photo.

"Anything else you need? Before we go?"

"No. Let's get a move on."

They journeyed back into the hall when the recom's alert ears honed in on the fast-approaching march of boots—boots that evolved into shouts. "Don't move! Don't move! Put your hands up!"

"No, no! You don't understand."

"Don't fight them, Parker," Zhâng warned.

One of them targeted Selfridge with the demand, "Who are you?"

"I'm, uh… Private, uh… Wa—"

"That's a civilian wearing a stolen uniform! Detain them both."

Hands in the air, the recombinant and his overseer were guided out of the ward and into the lobby, where paramedics on the scene were draping human casualties. Rifles nudging them onward, the men were escorted around the commotion and out through the vestibule door.

Outside, the sky was a dreary russet that accentuated the city's lights, diffusing through the murky smog. The two were forced onto their knees to await the transport that would haul them away.

"Well, this is great. Made it all this way just for this to happen."

"Hey, for what it's worth, you got pretty far."

"Thanks."

At the ruined river, where a band of Na'vi further disturbed the waters with their movements, Jake was busy stripping a harness from a dead ikran. A ways away was Neteyam, scouting the bank for what was dropped by the two women. He spotted, halfway in the silt, a big black club that he unearthed. He stood in place as he tried to decipher all the illegible names written around it, but the only one he could read was "Lyle." Near where he discovered the bat was a muddied tipi bag. Upon looking inside, he found an unfinished baby collar. He discreetly looked around before tucking it back in, then slung the bag over his shoulder. Neteyam walked up to his father. "Father, are you sure about this?"

Jake stopped handling the harness and stared up at his son with flat disappointment. "How do you know my plan?"

"Uh…"

"Neteyam you—!" He stopped to growl. "Where did you get this habit anyway?"

"Father, listen, you can't go into Bridgehead. They will kill you!"

"This time, son, they do have your sister."

"Even if you get past their border, they will shoot you once you're spotted. It's a suicide mission. We need you!"

"Kiri needs me."

"Then, let me go instead."

"You're the future. I'm yesterday," he countered, shutting his son down and moving to latch the equipment to Bob.

Neteyam splashed through the muck as he followed. "It's too soon for you to go! I'm too young to take over this clan."

His father clasped his shoulders firmly. "No, you are old enough now, Neteyam. You don't need me anymore. I can relax knowing that no matter what happens to me, there's someone reliable who can look after this family when I'm gone. I couldn't ask for a better son."

Neteyam took in his words with a foreboding he could not shake and a head he could not hold up.

Back at the cheerless camp, a woman approached a tent set up for the disabled, and standing at the entrance was Häku, who spun around upon hearing a familiar voice. "Tsmuke!"

Säro trembled with happiness as she came up to clasp hands.

|"I heard an Anurai escaped, but I did not know it was you. Why was it you? How?"|

|"I was lifted to freedom by one of the rekoms, a kind woman named Seezay."|

Häku grimaced hard. |"Do not speak that tribe's name to me."|

Säro tried not to wince as she swallowed her mistake. |"I was told about what happened to our home…"|

|"It is all destroyed. All of it burns—all of our greatness. That is why we are here—living on the charity of the other clans who are also now wretched."|

|"How is… How is Father?"|

|"He is inside,"| she whispered, bending her head in his direction.

|"May I see him?"|

|"Come."|

Inside the makeshift shelter and nestled in the back was a middle-aged man with no queue sitting cross-legged next to a sleeping Zwefnawo. |"Your father is resting, sister."| He smiled softly before sipping a concoction.

|"I thank you, Rawm. May we have a moment alone?"|

Politely, he rose and bid them farewell. Säro held back a cry and fell to her knees to hold her father's hand and set the back of it to her cheek. |"I am so sorry…"|

Häku knelt next to her sister. |"He has spoken little since he was returned to us."|

|"Has he lost use of speech?"|

|"I do not think so. Often, he sleeps, but when awake, I think he simply chooses not to talk."|

With a mournful gaze, she looked away and murmured, |"I see…"|

Häku placed her palm on his hip and petted it lovingly. |"Were you aware he was secretly sending out messages?"|

|"Yes."|

The crackle of the nearby cooking fire snapped, and the wind picked up, briefly unsettling the tent cloth.

|"Do you know how he was found out?"|

|"No, I do not know, Häku. Why do you look at me so?"|

The olo'eykte's suspicious eyes returned to her sleeping father. |"When he is awake, he is not lucid, but when I ask what happened, all I can make out is your name."|

|"Do you think I had something to do with what happened to Father?"| Säro snapped. The way her older sister stared into her, with eyes ready to believe the worst, was too much.

|"Did you?"|

Words sat on Säro's tongue, desperate to leap off, but she kept them stored. She knew she could share nothing; the truth would only be misunderstood. |"How could you think this of me?"|

|"What am I supposed to think?"|

|"I am innocent! I have done nothing wrong. Now, I have no home and no family, and my own sister thinks me evil."|

"Säro—" Häku hushed.

|"No! No more,"| she declared upon coming to her feet. The woman was done with being hushed, with being corrected, with being silenced by the elders of her family. |"When Father found out about Ly'il, he said I was not Anurai. He broke my heart, but he was right. I'm not. I'm rekom—a Deathwalker. My sister is Seezay, and my place is with her. I will let her woes be my woes, and we will share them together wherever we go. But that future does not include you or Father. How can I have a place with you if you think me a traitor? You are not my sister anymore."|

"Säro!"

It was too late; she was already turning on her feet, and her heart was far away; it was no longer connected to anything in that tent. |"Eywa be with you."|

She exited, and after her presence was gone did Zwefnawo turn to his other side to see the empty entrance and share a look with the remaining Häku.

Outside, in the light, Säro walked with head held high. What would become of her, she didn't know, but she knew she needed to be strong; for the sake of her new family, she had to be.

"Säro?"

She turned around and discovered a young Na'vi man of noble bearing. "Oel ngati kameie." His yellow eyes bowed. |"I am Neteyam te Tskaha Zayksuli'itan. Hello."|

|"I see you. Hello, Neteyam. How do you know my name?"|

|"I learned it from my father, Rider of Last Shadow."| Neteyam first looked around before handing her the tipi bag. |"I found this by the river. Is it yours?"|

Säro's breathing stopped short as she anxiously took back her property.

|"Fear not, my friend. I did not speak its contents to anyone."|

She clutched it to her stomach without realizing what she was doing. "Irayo." She then noticed something black sticking out of his quiver.

He followed her line of sight and pulled out the bat. |"Oh, is this also yours?"|

|"It is something of Seezay's,"| she admitted after taking it back.

|"You are very loyal to your friend."|

|"What does your father mean to do with her?"|

|"Do not worry, Säro. My father is very compassionate. He was also called 'Demon' for being not quite Na'vi, but I know he believes that people are not what they are born as but who they choose to become. He will show mercy to her."|

The woman was relieved; if this Neteyam was any reflection of Toruk Makto, then Seezay was in safe hands. |"I thank you for your understanding, son of Rider of Last Shadow. Would it be okay if I visit Seezay?"|

|"I don't know. Right now, it might be better to wait."|

She was sad at the thought of leaving CJ alone but complied with his wishes.

|"As compensation, is there anything I can do for you and your friend in the meantime?"|

She thought for a moment. |"Yes, if I may trouble you?"|

|"Speak freely."|

|"The ikran we flew here on—I am told the clans wish to make use of the body?"|

|"Yes,"| he sighed with much empathy. |"It is a sorry waste to take its life and not use it to feed the clan."|

|"Seezay was very attached to her ikran. The loss will be hard. Could you—if you can—preserve one of the bones and bring it to me?"|

Familiar with the famous bone crafts of the Anurai, Neteyam was moved by the gesture. |"I will do so."|

|"Thank you."| She bowed.

|"It is nothing. Goodbye, Säro."|

Night was introducing itself when Neytiri stood by with the others on the delta. Many small fires were built to keep the clans warm from the damp terrain and scare away predators, as they had no other barrier to shield them. Orange tongues distorted by smoke danced in the building darkness when Jake returned on his ikran. Neytiri raced to where he landed, for she was concerned by his prolonged absence. |"My Jake! Where have you been?"|

|"Flying near Bridgehead."| He panted. |"The rekom's ikran we shot down?—Its harness allows you to fly through the death plains."|

She backed two steps away from him, shaking her head to dismiss the notion. "Rä'ä si…"

|"Neytiri, I know it's dangerous, but it's the only way. Our daughter needs us."|

How fiercely the mother stood, the firelight catching her swishing tail as she paced before one of the active flames. How heavy her thoughts as she thought over his plan. |"My Jake. You go—and they will recognize you… They will kill you!"|

|"What is our other option?"|

She stood tall and firm with the answer. |"I go dressed as the rekom woman."|

Jake's heart skipped a beat.

|"We share height. We share build. I go disguised as her, and we have a better chance of finding our daughter."|

|"I'm not risking you!"|

|"Our clan needs Rider of Last Shadow. You can spare me."|

|"No, I can't! You're my mate, Neytiri!"|

|"And I'm Kiri's mother!"| Neytiri gripped his arms so tightly that it ceased blood flow. |"You cannot argue the wisdom of this plan. You know our chances are better if I go."| Her tone lowered to utter, |"And you've trained me for this day."|

Jake was swallowing while staring into her determined eyes, trying to find any other way, but none presented itself. He petted her face, brushing back her braids so nothing obscured his view. |"I can't lose you…"|

Neytiri savoured the press of his palm and inhaled fully before opening her eyes to say, "Strong heart."

Those two words impelled Jake to pull her in, shaking as he clutched her whole being. Then, moving to hold her at a distance, ran his fingers up her arms, pressing each section with a reassuring squeeze while his conflicted head shimmied in pain.

|"We cannot waste time, my love."|

"Dammit, Sheila…" To win this game of chess, they had to risk the queen. Reluctantly, the olo'eyktan nodded his approval.

Neytiri and her entourage entered the prisoner's overhang, where she stared down the demon in study, then, once she was satisfied, moved swiftly to strip the rekom of all gear. Neytiri carried the disguise to her tent and began the transformation. She shaved off her elaborate braids to mimic the mohawk, then when that was finished, donned the camouflage pants and grey tank all before putting on the tactical vest that displayed the Deja Blu patch, soiled with blood. Lastly, with the assistance of other women, paint was mixed, and CJ's gallery of tattoos were replicated on the warrior princess.

When Neteyam saw his mother exiting the tent, he flinched. "Ma Sa'nok!"

|"Where is your father?"|

|"H-He went to pray at the Tree of Souls."|

Neytiri was comforted to know that in this time of crisis, he had not forgotten his duty to Her.

Once again, Toruk Makto found himself supplicating before Eywa on her arboreous arms. Remembering that night, his eyes trailed up to the branch where he had spotted his daughter sleeping, and as he lingered on the memory, it dawned on him that he was here again for the same reason. He surrendered his queue.

Heavenly warm light invited a set of eyes to open, and the owner gaped at his surroundings. The last place Jake expected to find himself was inside Hometree. He looked around, admiring the towering roots that were like flying buttresses supporting a grand cathedral. It was neither day nor night but lit by an ethereal glow. Standing before him, with his back turned, was a noble figure adorned in the same feather mantle he now wore.

"Eytukan?"

Jake's father-in-law turned around. "I see you, my son," he stated firmly; his countenance was old but strong. "Why are you troubled?"

He approached him with veneration and knelt before Eytukan like a knight before his lord. "I need help, sir. I don't know what to do. The Skypeople have kidnapped my daughter. And now my wife is going to infiltrate their camp with no guarantee of getting her back. How can I only sit around and wait? Father, I can't do that. I have to do something, but I don't know what."

"Come, come. Rise, my son."

The man obeyed.

"Now, look down upon your person. What do you see?"

"My loincloth?"

Eytukan made a sound that told Jake to look again.

He sighed, looking at the second option. "You mean my mantle?"

The former leader, annoyed with his obtuseness, whisked his fingers across Jake's cumberbund.

"My ta'lan?"

"Why do you wear it?"

"Because…I am Omatikaya?"

"Why do you phrase it like a question, my son? You are Omatikaya. And Omatikaya are strong. Omatikaya do not give over to fear! Even while sitting, we are intimidating! How I squat could scare a Skyperson! Because my strength is here." The elder pointed to the centre of his breast. "You measure strength too much in actions, not enough in inaction—not in the waiting and seeing and trusting that Eywa is watching over you."

"So, are you saying this is all the will of Eywa?"

"Even Hometree's falling is woven into Her work. Think bigger."

Jake resorted to motioning his helpless arms away from his sides. "But I don't understand what I could do. I'm just one man."

A new voice entered the scene, a bit haughty but completely genuine. "Look at this little warrior. Is he really Toruk Makto?"

"Tsu'tey?"

There he was, with his half-shaved head and braided hair—his mien of ferocity and charm. "You wear my collar," the proud warrior noticed, running a finger down one tooth of the ebony trio. "I was attacked by an ikran who wanted my kill, and with only my blade, I defeated the creature." The mighty bellow of that very ikran sounded within Hometree and echoed away. "My olo'eyktan," Tsu'tey spoke to Eytukan. "How old was I then?"

"You were half the size you are now. Not even a man yet."

His large lips arched up in that smile Jake could never forget. "And I still won. But fighting a beast is easy." His voice fell. "Losing a woman you love is hard…" Jake said nothing and thought of Sylwanin, the sister he never got to meet. "Before a warrior can lay down his own life, he must lay all his loved ones before our Great Mother. They do not belong to us. They only come and go."

"He is right, my son. We were both prepared before our lives finished. You must do the same."

"I have to let go of them?" he exclaimed. The visions stared at him with a pained silence. "Am I to surrender all my family?!" his protest repeated throughout the spectral image of Hometree. Then, over the words, his voice came back to him, but it was not an echo of his cry; instead, it was his prayer—thanking Eywa for all that She had given him. The man shut his eyes, and that same peace from before descended upon him. The avatar, blessed with an impossible life, took those halcyon days he coveted and finally surrendered them just as Norman did. "I had my years…" Jake hushed with a smile.

Eytukan placed his hands on the warrior's shoulders, and then Tsu'tey did the same.

"Do not be afraid," his brother's voice echoed. "I will fly with you."

More and more hands linked to Jake as every image of those who came and went manifested in that eternal Hometree, lending their spirits to the converted alien, who was not alien at all but family.

As Jake awed at all the faces, he saw one that made his eyes go wide and mouth fall open, "Grace?" The tear-stained smile he thought he recognized was only witnessed for a second before his soul lifted above the convocation.

Gasping, Toruk Makto was returned to his world. After steadying his mind and heart, he gazed at a bloom of atokirina' and shut his eyes. He felt clean—his whole body felt clean, like his very soul had been blessed. Was that Grace he witnessed? Was it her he saw, or—? Jake didn't know, but it was enough for him.

The watchmen standing guard around the delta caught sight of their approaching olo'eyktan coming in on his ikran.

Neteyam rushed towards him. "You're finally back!"

"Where is your mother?"

"She is—"

Jake suddenly shoved Neteyam to the ground, took out his rifle and protected his son from the escaping recombinant.

"Ma Jake!" Neytiri raised her hands. |"It is me!"|

"Neytiri?!" He shut his mouth and swallowed the shock. "Sorry, I forgot you, uh…" Scanning the sight before him, his roaming eyes caught the casualty face-planted in the muck and realized he should probably help him up.

|"You see, Mother?"| Neteyam took the offered hand and wiped his face. |"I told you he wouldn't recognize you."|

Jake rubbed his son's head in apology. "You're even wearing her pistol," he noticed, nudging a finger at the holster. "You know how to use one?"

"It is a stupid weapon," she hissed, drawing it out. "I do the 'click, click,' and it does nothing!"

"Let me see that." He took the Wolf pistol and inspected it. "You have it on 'safety'… If you want to fire it, you have to pull this first." He then demonstrated what to do before switching it back. "But leave it like this until you're ready to fire. Hopefully, you won't. Now, from the looks of it, this magazine only has eight more rounds—that's how many times you can shoot before it's blank. Got that?"

"A bow is easier…" she grumbled as she returned the pistol to its holster.

"Now, these are grenades," he said, pointing to her belt. "To use one of these, you have to lift up this pin, then throw. All hell will break loose."

"It will explode?"

"Kxangangang," Neteyam added for fun.

"What he said. Try not to use these if you don't have to. God, I really hope you won't have to. As for the communicator, I'll link this one to ours so you can hear me. And Neytiri?"

"Lì'upe?"

"If you see Quaritch, do not engage. Just run. Find Kiri and get out."

|"But, Jake, what if he knows where she is?"|

|"It's too dangerous for you to take him on. You can't risk him seeing you."|

|"I already killed him once before,"| she boasted. |"I am not afraid."|

|"Please, listen to me, Neytiri. Compared with our daughter, he's not the priority here."|

She snarled at him. |"What is this? First, our son. Now, you? Why are the men of my family reluctant to take that monster's life? Jake. I will do what I must. Do we agree to that?"|

|"Just don't overdo it."|

She gave him a very incredulous wobble of her head.

"What?" he uttered in defence.

"I think she refers to the toruk, Father."

"Hey, hey, hey. That actually worked." He cleared his throat. "Anyway. As for us, I'll gather a tsampong (war party), and we'll wait for you outside the border. If anyone tries pursuing you once you're out, we'll be ready for them."