The sky was alive.
Wind roared in my ears as the ikran and I soared higher, the horizon opening like a canvas of endless blue. Below, the jungle stretched vast and eternal, rivers glinting like veins of silver.
The ikran screamed, wings beating like thunder. The sound vibrated in my chest, raw and primal, and for the first time since arriving on Pandora, I felt something deeper than awe—belonging.
"This…" I whispered into the rushing air, "…this is freedom."
The bond between us was alive, every movement shared, every instinct mirrored. When I leaned, it tilted. When I pushed, it surged forward. I didn't control it. We moved as one.
But Pandora never allowed peace for long.
The shadow came suddenly—massive, blotting out the sun.
A great leonopteryx. The Toruk.
Its wings stretched wider than ten ikran, its beak sharp enough to crush stone, its roar shaking the very sky. Even the wind seemed to bow beneath its fury.
The hunters below cried out in alarm, their voices faint in the storm of wings. Neytiri's face turned pale, her bow lifted though she knew it would not matter. Tsireya's hands clasped to her chest, her eyes locked on me.
The ikran beneath me shrieked, its wings faltering as instinct screamed at it to flee. But I pressed my hand to its neck, my voice calm and steady despite the storm.
"Not today. We are storm. We do not run from thunder."
The Toruk dove, a red comet tearing through the sky, its screech a declaration of dominance. The force of its descent split the air like a blade, sending lesser creatures scattering.
My ikran screamed back, but fear still laced its cry.
It's not about power. It's about trust.
I leaned forward, whispering to it through the bond. "Together."
The ikran roared—and we dove.
The wind slammed against us, the earth rushing up like a tidal wave. At the last instant, I pulled, wings slicing the air, the beast and I twisting into a spiral that made the world blur. The Toruk missed by mere meters, its fury shaking the sky.
The battle began.
It chased us across the clouds, its wings smashing through currents, its talons snapping like lightning. I dodged, twisted, and climbed higher, the ikran moving faster than it ever had. The bond between us screamed with fire, each turn tighter, each dive sharper.
But the Toruk was older. Stronger. Merciless.
It lunged, its beak closing around my ikran's tail. Pain seared through the bond, my chest tightening as if the wound were mine. My instincts roared—Superman's power begging to be unleashed. To turn, to strike, to end this monster with a single blow.
But I held it back.
If I use brute strength, I break the bond. This fight is ours, not mine alone.
Through the pain, I whispered: "Fight with me."
And my ikran did.
It twisted, wings folding, body spinning in a death spiral. The Toruk's grip loosened, the beast unprepared for such recklessness. At the last second, my ikran snapped its wings open, pulling us free, while the Toruk screeched in fury, crashing through the air.
We surged upward, straight into the sun. The Toruk followed, blinded by rage. At the apex, I let the bond guide me.
"Now!" I roared.
We spun, diving headfirst, wings tight. The Toruk overshot, its massive body unable to match our maneuver. In the opening, I rose—eyes glowing with heat vision, heart burning to strike—
But I stopped.
This wasn't my kill to make. This wasn't Earth, where power made right. This was Pandora.
The ikran screamed, wings outstretched, its claws slashing across the Toruk's face. The beast reeled, howling, its pride wounded more than its flesh.
And then… it retreated.
The sky was ours.
The hunters erupted in cries of awe below. Neytiri stared as though she had seen a ghost. Tsireya's lips curved into a smile, her eyes shining with something that set my chest alight.
I landed back on the cliff, the ikran's wings folding with pride. My hand lingered on its neck, the bond pulsing with triumph and trust.
"You did it," I whispered. "We did it."
Neytiri stepped forward, voice low and reverent. "No one faces the Toruk and lives. No one. You are… not just Na'vi. You are something more."
Tsireya approached next, her hand brushing my arm, her voice soft as the sea. "Storm of the Sky," she whispered. "That is what you are."
The name clung to me. Not demon. Not outsider.
Storm of the Sky.
And as the wind carried the cheers of the People, I looked beyond the horizon. Because I knew—this was only the beginning.
The Sky People were coming.
And their storm would not be so easily turned.