Before war ever reached it, before sky-people scarred its breath, the rainforest of the Na'vi stretched endlessly beneath floating mountains and silver mist.
This was the land of the Omatikaya.
Here, light did not simply fall — it filtered. It slipped through towering kelutral trees in soft emerald beams, catching on drifting pollen and the slow sway of vines. The air was warm and damp, alive with the hum of unseen insects and the distant cry of ikran circling high above the canopy.
At night, the forest awakened.
Bioluminescent plants pulsed gently beneath bare feet. Moss glowed like scattered constellations along tree roots. Each step stirred tiny sparks of living light, as though the earth itself were breathing. The forest was not silent; it whispered — through rustling leaves, through the soft ripple of distant waterfalls, through the heartbeat rhythm that every Omatikaya child learned to recognize as Eywa's presence.
The Omatikaya did not rule this forest.
They belonged to it.
Their homes were woven into the trunks of ancient trees, platforms suspended high above the forest floor. Ladders of braided fiber connected families. Children learned to climb before they learned to run. Hunters moved without breaking twigs. Voices rarely rose above the natural music of the jungle.
Everything had purpose.
Beads braided into hair told stories — of first hunts, of bonds made beneath the Tree of Voices. Paint across the skin was not decoration but memory: stripes of protection, dots of celebration, markings of mourning.
Food was taken with gratitude.
Ikran were not mounts but partners.
Even the smallest seed was returned to the soil with reverence.
The Omatikaya culture was built on three quiet truths:balance over dominance, connection over ownership and a memory over conquest.
To an outsider, it was a jungle.To them, it was ancestry.It was prayer and a living history rooted in every branch and breath.
It had been years since the great wounds left by the Sky People had begun to heal. Lost lives were already overlooked with healing. Jake Sully was already the rightful leader. Neteyam was succeeded in the Iknimaya rites and the clan marvelled at it.. Na'vi were marvelled.
. Lo'ak was uneasy knowing he is the next in a few years. Tuk was smiling while staying in Neytiri's arms unaware of the weight of such rites. Kiri was also obviously showing a sense of delightfulness.
Neteyam's gaze found Yomiting at once—his current love interest, though not yet his mate. Yomiting ran toward him, joy unrestrained. Of the remaining two girls, one looked away, unwilling to reveal what stirred inside her. The other held herself still, composed, because she belonged to the work, not the songs. She was only an assigned helper.
"Eylan" the helper called out, her voice warm with encouragement, before stepping back to give Yomiting space with Neteyam.
"Now it's your turn," Neteyam grinned at Yomiting, thinking certain the waiting was nearly over. Yomiting looked at Neytiri and noticed her bright face.Nearby, the assigned helper reminded herself not to drift into daydreams. Feelings, she knew, did not change places in the clan.Then, Eylan the other warrior succeeded Iknimaya rights in her first try like Neteyam did.
Her grandmother Artsut was so proud about it, yet had more hopes about Eylan's younger sister Yomiting.
Tiva, the assigned helper, congratulated Eylan. Yet Eylan wasn't in a mood to be happy. Tiva sensed why and realized she irs just a one who belongs to the work, not the songs. Eylan muttered to Tiva.
" I wished he loves me instead"
" What to do, Karyu (respected fighter)? You will have someone better. Don't be upset about it"
Eylan scoffed softly"Tiva, who is even better than him to me?"
Tiva was quiet for a while as that was her same thought. Tiva felt like she was doing something bad by having feelings for Toruk Makto's son and was glad that she was good at hiding it.
" Karyu.., I can guarantee that you will find your rightful mate in future. Maybe your younger sister found one sooner." Tiva consoled Eylan like that.
Yet, Tiva carried baskets.Not weapons.Not authority.Not history.
Just baskets.
She walked three steps behind the elders, hands always occupied — herbs, tools, woven cloth, sometimes nothing at all but the habit of usefulness. The role had never been named, yet it had settled onto her shoulders naturally.
Assistant.
It was easier that way.
Assistants were not expected to matter.It had been years since the great wounds left by the Sky People had begun to heal. Lost lives were already overlooked with healing. Jake Sully was already the rightful leader. Neteyam was succeeded in the Iknimaya rites and the clan marvelled at it.. Na'vi were marvelled.
Yet, Yomiting couldn't do her Iknimaya rights in her first try. Tiva was concerned and checked on Yomiting immediately. Gladly, Yomiting wasn't hurt but embarrassed.
" It's all right, karyu," Tiva said softly. "You will do better next time."
Yomiting felt deeply ashamed . She was supposed to be better than Eylan when doing the Iknimaya ritual. Eylan felt little satisfaction about it. So did Lo'ak though he never said it aloud.
Neteyam comforted Yomiting, and Tiva's heart beat too fast as she watched. In the third try, Yomiting succeeded. Eylan felt it's not fair. But Artsut was happy about everything going well. Now the only thing left is the Uniltaron, also known as the dream hunt.
Coming of age Na'vis were gathered around willow tree.The clan, especially the elders and family, gathered at the sacred site. The Tsahik; Neytiri prepared the toxin. Since the Tree of souls has been destroyed this was their home tree. Other Na'vi played Log drums. The. Neytiri spread smoke around Neteyam. Neteyam willingly took it. Then a glow warm was placed inside Neteyam's mouth which made Tiva anxious.
"Oh, wise worm, enter of the scared tree bless this worthy hunter with a true vision"
Neytiri said with utmost happiness. Mo'at was proud of her daughter being the great Tsahik. Then Neytiri let Kali'ways arachnoid scorpion bite Neteyam's shoulder twice. Tiva was concerned and Yomiting noticed it.
" It's a part of the process. You don't know?"
" I didn't," Tiva whispered. Yomiting nodded thinking her assistant is too naive to even witness. Neytiri again repeated the same phrase several times.
" Bless this worthy hunter with a true vision"
Then Tiva saw Neteyam was partially unconscious. Na'vi encouraged him with a hiss. Yomiting and Eylan explained what was going on there to Tiva.
"Eywa shows him what he must carry."
Yomiting said while leaning in with other Ometikaya warriors to hiss.
Then Eylan also joined other warriors. Tiva slowly realized Spirit tree roots connect every information of every clan. People's feelings were also carried through the tree of souls to Eywa. Which made her venerate Eywa more. Yet, she realized she would never pass the dream hunt in her position. After all her name is Tiva te Syaksyip which means the one who carries what is left behind.No one had forbidden her from dreaming. They simply never asked her to . After all, when her skills were checked she couldn't do it well, which she deeply regretted.Her skills were never enough, and she knew it. She watched as Eylan and Yomiting passed into their visions.
" Tiva" Artsut said sharply " go and prepare the meal for the warriors" Tiva obeyed at once. A great feast followed,but she missed the storm beast dance.
Everything felt peaceful– almost convincing. Tiva thought she would get used to this life anyway.
Yet something felt wrong.
Yomiting would become Neteyam's mate. It was obvious. She just couldn't escape from the truth that she would never be a warrior. Worst still, she was older than both Eylan and Yomiting.
At first, it wasn't love for Tiva.It was observation.Tiva had always watched people — it was how she survived unnoticed. She knew the rhythm of the clan without thinking: who spoke first, who laughed loudest, who carried authority like a second spine.
Neteyam was easy to track.
Not because he tried to stand out.
Because he didn't.
He moved with the steadiness of someone who understood responsibility too early. Never the loudest in a room, never careless, never reaching for attention — and somehow that made everyone turn toward him anyway.
Tiva noticed the way younger hunters straightened when he walked past.
The way elders paused mid-sentence when he spoke.The way even arguments softened around him.He didn't command space.Space rearranged itself for him.She told herself she only watched because she watched everyone.
But she never counted how often her eyes found him until it was too late to pretend otherwise.
She never spoke to him.Not really.
A greeting once.A shared glance near the cooking fires.A brief moment when he handed her something without realizing she existed before that second.That distance made it safe.
Because feelings can survive in silence far longer than they can in reality. Neteyam belonged to a different world — one made of expectations, leadership, lineage. The son of warriors. The future people spoke about in certain tones.
Tiva belonged to the spaces between people.
Assistants did not dream about chiefs' sons.
Not seriously.
So she folded the feeling away before it could fully form, the same way she folded every unnecessary thing — neatly, quietly, without witnesses.
It wasn't a grand moment.No sudden realization. No breathless awareness.
Just something small.
One evening, the clan gathered after a long hunt. Laughter rolled through the clearing, warm and alive, the kind that made even the trees feel closer.
Neteyam stood near the center, listening more than speaking, the firelight catching the edges of his face.
Someone said something funny. He laughed.
And that was when it happened.
Not the laugh itself — but the way it softened him. The way the weight left his shoulders for a heartbeat, revealing the boy underneath the warrior everyone saw.
Something in Tiva's chest tightened unexpectedly.Not pain.Not joy.
Recognition.And she hated that she understood him in that moment.Because understanding makes distance harder to keep.That was the first time she looked away on purpose.
Tiva was not naive.She knew how the world worked.Important people found each other. Warriors paired with warriors. Leaders with equals. Strength with strength.
No one chose the girl who carried baskets.
Even if they were kind enough not to say it aloud.So she never imagined a future. Never built quiet fantasies. Never let herself linger on the possibility.
Instead, she turned the feeling into something else.
Respect.
Admiration.
Something almost sacred in its restraint.
She watched him the way one watches distant mountains — aware of their beauty, certain they are not meant to be touched.
If anyone had asked, she would have denied it without hesitation.Not defensively. Not angrily.Simply truthfully.Because she had never allowed herself to name it.
Love requires hope.
And hope was a luxury she learned early not to carry.So she kept it buried under practicality, under silence, under years of being unseen.Even from herself.
If Neteyam ever noticed her, she thought, it would only be for a moment — the way one notices wind moving through leaves.
Felt, briefly.Then forgotten.
And she still didn't know who her parents were.
That night, the dreams returned from what she saw months ago .
Not visions—not like the Dream Hunt the elders spoke of. No voices of Eywa, no guiding symbols. Just fragments. Broken moments stitched together wrong.
Running—but not knowing from what.A scream cut short.
Blood on leaves that should have been green.
A name on her tongue she could not bring herself to say.Tiva woke with her breath tangled in her chest, fingers clutching empty air.
She pressed her forehead to the cool bark of Hometree and waited for the feeling to pass.It is nothing, she told herself. Just fear. Just imagination.
Still, when morning came, she avoided the elders' eyes.
Later that day, she overheard talk of the Dream Hunt—of who would be chosen next, of who Eywa might call. Her hands trembled as she worked. Artsut noticed.
"You are not ready," the Mo'at said calmly, when Tiva finally gathered the courage to ask.
The words were not cruel. They were final.
Tiva bowed her head. "Yes, ma'teyo."
She did not ask how readiness was measured. Tiva never complained. She never asked why the nieces of Tsu'tey needed a helper so close in age to them. She never asked why she was chosen.
She already knew the answer.
She did not ask why the dreams came anyway
Some questions, she was learning, were not meant to be spoken aloud.
That evening, as the sun dipped low and laughter echoed from the training grounds, Tiva sat alone and tried to smile at the sound of it.
Artsut never meant to be cruel.
That was what made it worse. She spoke to everyone with warmth — slow smiles, patient explanations, stories that lingered in the air long after he finished speaking. Children adored him. Warriors respected him. Even stubborn elders listened when he spoke.
But with Tiva, something always… shifted.Not cold.Not distant.
Just unfinished.
She would walk beside her as she inspected traps or checked injured hunters, carrying whatever he handed her without complaint.
Once, when the forest was unusually quiet, she gathered the courage.
"Artsut… what were my parents like?"
The question slipped out softer than she intended.
She didn't stop walking.
For a moment, she thought she hadn't heard
Then she smiled — that same gentle, practiced smile she gave to everyone.
"They were strong," she said lightly. "You should focus on becoming strong too."
And that was it.No names.No stories.
No memories.
Just a sentence placed carefully like a stone sealing a grave.The next time she asked, she pretended to be distracted.The third time, he placed a hand on her shoulder and said, almost kindly,
"Some things belong to the past, child.
After that, she stopped asking.
Not because she stopped wondering.
Because she understood the answer would never come.And understanding silence too early changes a person.
She told herself she was being foolish. Those dreams were only dreams. That silence kept her safe.
But somewhere deep beneath the roots of Hometree, something stirred—unseen, unnamed—and it was already moving closer.
Tiva did not know it yet.
But Eywa, it seemed, did.Tiva learned early that silence could be a kind of skill.
She walked lightly in the high branches of Hometree, eyes lowered, steps measured—always careful not to intrude, not to take space meant for others. A helper's life was built from such habits. Fetch this. Carry that. Stand there. Wait.She did all of it well.