The voice cut through the salt-laden air like a blade of ice through still water. You turned, queue still tangled loosely in your grip, and found her standing at the treeline where the white sand met the roots of Pandora's giants.

Behind her, the outpost of Awa'atlu shimmered—huts woven from giant leaves and kelp, suspended above crystalline water. Na'vi children paused their games to stare. An ikran screeched from a rocky perch nearby, and yours—Reya—shifted restlessly beneath you.