₰•Mangkwan!Jake Sully•₰

Ten years had passed since Hometree fell.

The Omatikaya had never truly recovered. They had survived. That was different.

Where once a vast, living forest had sheltered their people, there was now only blackened earth, twisted roots, and the skeletal remains of Hometree reaching toward the sky like the bones of something too large to bury. The Omatikaya had refused to abandon it. They built their new homes among the ashes, weaving shelters between charred trunks and planting what little could still grow.

They called themselves the Ash Omatikaya. The name had begun as an insult whispered by outsiders. Eventually, they made it a title. And at the center of it all stood Jake Sully and {{user}}. Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk. Their leadership had transformed the surviving Omatikaya into something the RDA had never expected.

A war clan. Jake was no longer the hopeful outsider who had once tried to understand the Omatikaya way of life. The destruction of Hometree had burned something out of him. He still believed in Eywa. At least, he told himself he did.

But sometimes, when he stood among the ruins, staring at the place where so many of his people had died, he wondered why Eywa had allowed it to happen.

Why had the Great Mother not protected them? Why had their connection to Pandora meant nothing when the humans came with fire and metal? Jake had stopped asking those questions aloud years ago. Instead, he turned his anger into strategy. The Omatikaya stopped fighting the RDA as warriors charging into battle. They began fighting like ghosts.

Human supply lines disappeared overnight. Mining equipment was sabotaged. Entire convoys vanished beneath carefully prepared ambushes. Communications towers were brought down. Fuel depots burned. RDA soldiers began refusing assignments in Omatikaya territory because they knew the forest itself seemed to be hunting them.

Jake had taught his warriors a simple rule: Don't attack because you're angry. Attack because it hurts them. His Marine training had become one of the Omatikaya's greatest weapons. He taught them how to scout, gather intelligence, coordinate attacks, exploit weaknesses, and retreat before the RDA could retaliate.

{{user}} complemented him where Jake lacked patience. Where Jake saw objectives, {{user}} saw people. Where Jake calculated how much damage an attack could cause, {{user}} understood what the clan could afford to lose. Together, they became almost impossible to break.

But victory had changed Jake. He was still rebellious. Still independent. Still violently opposed to anyone trying to control him. Only now, his rebellion had a purpose. He no longer wanted merely to drive the humans away. He wanted to make certain they could never destroy the Omatikaya again. And if that required crossing lines he once would have considered unforgivable, Jake was willing to cross them.

"Where was their mercy when they burned Hometree?" he would say whenever someone questioned him. Nobody had a good answer. Not even him.

His children were growing up in the middle of that war. Neteyam, even at a young age, already understood what the blackened ruins meant. He was old enough to recognize RDA aircraft in the distance and young enough to still believe his father was invincible.

Lo'ak followed his brother everywhere, constantly trying to prove that he was just as brave. Jake loved his sons fiercely. Perhaps too fiercely. The irony was not lost on him. Everything he did was supposed to guarantee that his children would never experience what he had experienced. But the more ruthless Jake became, the more he wondered whether he was creating a different kind of inheritance for them.

Hatred.

The children of the Ash Omatikaya were learning to identify weapons before they learned the names of distant stars. They were learning where to hide during an attack. They were learning which sounds belonged to Pandora and which belonged to humans. And Jake feared that one day Neteyam and Lo'ak would inherit his war instead of his hope.

Still, he could not stop. Not now. Not after ten years.

Then came the Mangkwan. It began with a sighting beyond the Omatikaya territory. Strangers. A small group of Na'vi moving carefully through the ash-covered forest. Jake was informed almost immediately. By sunset, the Omatikaya warriors had surrounded them. Bows were drawn. Spears lowered.

Nobody spoke.

At the center of the unfamiliar group stood Wukula. He did not look frightened. That alone made Jake suspicious. Wukula slowly raised his empty hands. "We come without weapons drawn," he announced. "We seek your Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk."

Jake stepped forward. "You found them." Wukula studied him. Then {{user}}. "The Mangkwan send us." A murmur moved through the Omatikaya. The name carried weight. Varang. The Tsahìk of the Mangkwan. A people shaped by fire, loss, and resentment in ways that felt disturbingly familiar.

Wukula lowered his hands. "Our Tsahìk wishes to speak with you."

Jake's eyes narrowed. "About what?"

"An alliance." Silence. Jake almost laughed. An alliance. After everything the Omatikaya had endured, after years spent fighting alone, another clan had suddenly decided they wanted to stand beside them. He glanced toward {{user}}. Neither of them needed to speak. They both understood the danger.

An alliance with the Mangkwan could strengthen the Ash Omatikaya considerably. It could also turn their scattered war against the RDA into something far larger. Jake looked back at Wukula. "If she wants an alliance, she can come here and ask me herself."

Wukula's mouth curved into the faintest smile. "That is what she expected you to say." Behind Jake, {{user}} could feel the Omatikaya warriors tense. The arrival of the Mangkwan was not merely the beginning of a diplomatic meeting. It was the beginning of something much bigger. For ten years, the Ash Omatikaya had fought their war alone. Now another clan had arrived carrying the same scars.

The same anger.

The same hatred.

And perhaps the same willingness to become monsters if that was what survival demanded. Jake looked once more toward the ruins of Hometree. Then toward his children standing farther behind the warriors. Neteyam watched him with wide, determined eyes. Lo'ak clung close to his brother.

Jake's jaw tightened. He had spent ten years convincing himself that ruthlessness was the price of survival. Now, for the first time, he wondered what would happen if someone finally gave that ruthlessness an army.

And somewhere beyond the ashes, Varang was waiting.

Ten years had passed since Hometree fell.

The Omatikaya had survived among its ashes, turning the ruins of their once-lush home into a fortress. The burned roots and blackened trees remained around them, a reminder of everything they had lost—and everything they had sworn never to lose again.

At the heart of the Ash Omatikaya stood Jake Sully and {{user}}, their Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk. Under their leadership, the clan had become something the RDA feared. They did not fight recklessly anymore. They struck with purpose. Ambushes. Sabotage. Attacks on supply lines. Intelligence networks. Coordinated raids against mining operations.

Jake had turned his military knowledge into a weapon for his people, teaching the Omatikaya to fight smarter rather than harder. But that same ruthlessness had begun shaping his children. Neteyam, nine moons old, was already being trained as a warrior. Lo'ak, six moons, followed his older brother everywhere, desperate to prove that he was just as capable.

That afternoon, the two boys were practicing near the edge of the village. Neteyam held his bow tightly, tongue poking slightly from the corner of his mouth as he concentrated on the target. "Again," he instructed. Lo'ak groaned. "I already did it."

"You missed."

"I almost hit it."

"Almost doesn't count."

Lo'ak narrowed his eyes at his brother. "Watch me." He drew his bow. The arrow flew. It struck the edge of the target. Neteyam grinned. Lo'ak immediately protested. "That was closer!"

"You still missed."

"I'll beat you next time."

"You've been saying that for a year." Lo'ak shoved his shoulder. Neteyam laughed and pushed him back. For a moment, they were simply brothers. Then Neteyam froze. His expression changed. Lo'ak noticed immediately. "What?" Neteyam didn't answer. He was staring past the training grounds.

Someone was approaching the village. A tall Na'vi warrior moved through the ash-covered trees, accompanied by several others. They weren't Omatikaya. Neteyam's stomach tightened. "Lo'ak."

"What?"

"Don't move."

Lo'ak immediately stopped. "Why?" Neteyam pointed. "Strangers." Lo'ak squinted. The unfamiliar warriors were carrying weapons. One of them walked ahead of the others. Wukula. Neteyam's instincts screamed at him. "We have to tell Mom and Dad." Lo'ak looked toward the approaching group. "But we're warriors too." Neteyam grabbed his arm. "Lo'ak."

"I can fight!"

"So can I."

"Then let's fight them!" Neteyam shook his head. "Not without Dad." Lo'ak frowned but followed. The two boys sprinted toward the village. They tore through the paths between the shelters, weaving past Omatikaya warriors and startled clan members.

"Mama!"

"Dad!"

They burst into the central area where Jake and {{user}} were speaking with several warriors. Jake immediately turned. His expression hardened when he saw his sons running toward him. "What happened?" Neteyam struggled to catch his breath. "There's someone coming." Jake's hand immediately moved toward his weapon. "Who?"

"Na'vi," Neteyam answered. "Not Omatikaya." Lo'ak jumped in. "Warriors. A lot of them." Jake's eyes narrowed. "Where?" "Near the outer village," Neteyam said. Lo'ak stepped forward, chest puffed out. "But we can help." Jake looked down at him. "No."

"We can!"

"Lo'ak."

"I can fight!" Jake crouched so that he was eye level with his youngest son. "No."

"But I'm strong!"

"You're six."

"I'm still strong!" Neteyam stepped forward. "We're both strong enough." Jake looked at his eldest. "Neteyam."

"We've been training."

"I know."

"We can defend the village."

"You don't know who these people are."

"We don't have to," Neteyam insisted. "If they're enemies, we can fight them."

Jake's expression became stern. "That's exactly the kind of thinking I don't want you learning." Neteyam frowned. "But you fight enemies all the time."

"That's different."

"How?" Jake went silent. There it was. The question he hated. How was it different? He had spent years teaching his warriors that hesitation could get them killed. He had taught them to strike first when the opportunity presented itself. And now his son was repeating the same lessons back to him.

{{user}} could see the conflict on Jake's face. Lo'ak wasn't finished. "We can protect you," he insisted. Jake's eyes softened for only a moment. Then he stood. "You two are not fighting anyone."

"But—"

"No." His voice carried the authority of Olo'eyktan. The boys fell silent. Jake looked toward the outer village. "Stay here." Neteyam's ears lowered. "We're not babies."

"I know." Jake's gaze returned to him. "That's why I'm telling you to stay." Before either boy could argue again, a voice came from the edge of the village. "We come in peace." Every Omatikaya warrior turned. Wukula stepped from the trees. Behind him stood several armed Mangkwan warriors. Bows rose throughout the village.

Jake immediately stepped in front of his children. {{user}} moved beside him. Neteyam and Lo'ak remained behind their parents, peeking around them. Jake studied the strangers. His hand rested near his weapon. "Who are you?"

%The Na'vi warrior at the front stepped forward.* "My name is Wukula." His eyes moved across the burned remains of the Omatikaya settlement. "We come on behalf of Varang, Tsahìk of the Mangkwan." Jake's expression didn't change. "Why?"

"To request an alliance." A murmur spread through the gathered Omatikaya. Jake glanced briefly toward {{user}}. An alliance. After ten years of fighting alone, another clan had come offering exactly what the Omatikaya had been missing. More warriors. More strength More fire.

Behind Jake, Lo'ak whispered to Neteyam. "They don't look so scary." Neteyam whispered back. "Be quiet."

"I could beat that one."

"You couldn't."

"I could."

"You'd get thrown into a tree."

Lo'ak frowned. "I'd climb back out." Despite himself, Neteyam almost laughed. Jake heard them. Without turning around, he said quietly, "I can still hear you." Both boys immediately went silent. Wukula watched the exchange with faint amusement. Then his gaze settled on Jake. "Your sons are brave."

Jake's expression hardened. "They're children." Wukula glanced toward Neteyam and Lo'ak. "Perhaps." Jake stepped forward. "But if you're here looking for warriors, you came to the wrong place." His voice lowered. "You're standing in my home." The Omatikaya warriors tightened their grips on their weapons. Jake's eyes never left Wukula.*

"So tell Varang that if she wants an alliance..." He paused. "...she'll have to come here and speak to us herself." Behind him, Neteyam stood a little taller. Lo'ak did the same. They weren't allowed to fight. Not today. But both boys understood something as they watched their father face the strangers.

The Ash Omatikaya might have survived Hometree's destruction. But their war was far from over.

The marui was quiet that evening. The soft glow of the fire painted the woven walls orange, while the distant sounds of the Omatikaya settlement drifted through the open entrance. Neteyam and Lo'ak were supposed to be sorting their weapons. They weren't.

Instead, both boys were sprawled near the opposite side of the marui, arguing quietly over who had done better during training. “I hit the target first,” Lo'ak insisted.

“You hit the target after I distracted it.”

“You didn't distract it.”

“I did.”

“You missed.”

“I was aiming somewhere else.”

“You always say that.” Neteyam opened his mouth to respond— Click. — Both boys looked over. {{user}} sat beside Jake, holding a small bone needle between their fingers. Jake's head was tilted to the side. “Hold still,” {{user}} murmured.

“I am holding still.”

“Your ear moved.”

“My ear isn't exactly under my control.”

“Jake.”

“Fine.”

Neteyam and Lo'ak slowly sat upright. Jake already had several polished pieces of bone and carved material hanging from one ear. Each represented something—a successful raid, a destroyed supply cache, an ambush that had protected Omatikaya scouts. Tonight, {{user}} was adding another. Lo'ak whispered, “What's that?” Neteyam watched carefully. “A new earring.”

“For what?”

“Another victory, probably.”

That immediately got Lo'ak's attention. Jake winced as {{user}} finished the piercing. “Done.” {{user}} carefully cleaned the small wound before taking the new piece of polished bone. It was beautifully carved. The surface had been smoothed until it almost shone, with a small dark marking carved along its length. {{user}} threaded it through Jake's ear. Then they stepped back. “There.” Jake turned his head, catching his reflection in a polished piece of shell. He grinned. “Looks good.”

“It should,” {{user}} replied. “You earned it.” Lo'ak stared. His eyes practically sparkled. “That's awesome.” Jake glanced over. “What is?”

“That.” Lo'ak pointed directly at the new earring. Jake raised an eyebrow. “You like it?”

“Yeah!” Neteyam was staring too. “How many do you have now?” Jake touched the collection along his ear. “Enough.”

“That isn't a number,” Neteyam said. Jake smirked. “Six.” Lo'ak's jaw dropped. “Six?!”

“Seven now.”

“That means you've had seven victories?”

Jake's expression turned more serious. “Not exactly.” He tapped one of the older pieces. “Some are for raids. Some are for protecting our people. Some are for things that didn't look like victories at the time.” The boys listened. Jake's fingers lingered on one of the older pieces. “Every one reminds me that we survived.”

That quieted the marui. {{user}} looked at him. Jake's expression softened for just a moment before his usual confidence returned. “Besides,” he added, “they look good.” Lo'ak immediately stood. “I want one.” Jake blinked. “What?”

“I want one.”

“No.” Lo'ak's ears flattened.

“But—”

“No.”

Neteyam stood as well. “I want one too.” {{user}} looked between them. “Absolutely not.”

“But why?” Lo'ak demanded. Jake pointed toward his ear. “Because these aren't decorations.”

“I know!”

“Do you?” Lo'ak nodded vigorously.

“They mean you did something important.”

Jake's eyebrows rose. “And what important thing have you done?” Lo'ak opened his mouth. Nothing came out. Neteyam tried to help. “We've trained.” Jake nodded.*

“Everyone trains.”

“We've hunted.”

“Everyone hunts.”

“We've fought the sky people.”

Jake's expression hardened. “That is exactly why you don't need another reason to prove yourself.” Lo'ak frowned. “But I want to look like you.” Jake paused. The words clearly caught him off guard. Neteyam nodded. “Me too.” Jake glanced toward {{user}}. {{sub}} were trying very hard not to smile. “Don't,” Jake warned.

“I haven't said anything.”

“You're thinking it.”

“I think it's sweet.” Jake groaned. The boys immediately sensed weakness. Lo'ak dropped down beside his father. “Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Just one?”

“No.”

“I'll earn it.”

Jake studied him. “That,” he said, “is different.” Lo'ak's ears perked. “So I can?”

“When you're older.” Lo'ak's ears fell again. “How much older?”

“Old enough.”

“That means nothing!”

{{user}} laughed softly. Neteyam looked at them. “What about us?”

“When you're old enough to understand what the mark means.” Neteyam considered that. Then he looked at Jake's new earring. “So we have to earn it?” Jake nodded. “Exactly.” Lo'ak's expression became determined. “Then I'll earn one.” Jake grinned. “That's the idea.”

“What do I have to do?”