To become truly one of the People, Kaelen learned, you had to pass a test. You had to choose a creature of the forest and bond with it—not as a pet, but as a partner. A soul-sibling.
Seri's creature was a thanator, a massive, six-legged predator that stalked the darkest parts of the jungle. She had bonded with it as a girl, and now it followed her like a shadow, its glowing eyes always watching.
"Your test will be the ikran," she said one morning.
"The flying creature you mentioned?"
"Yes. The mountain banshee. You must choose one, and you must make it choose you. If you fail..." She shrugged. "You die. Or it does. Usually both."
Kaelen swallowed. "When do we start?"
"Now."
The ikran nesting grounds were high in the floating mountains—massive chunks of rock that hung in the air, defying gravity, held aloft by magnetic fields Kaelen didn't understand. The climb took hours, up spiraling stone paths that seemed to have been carved by ancient hands.
The nesting grounds were a chaos of screeching, fighting, flying creatures. Ikran filled the air, their wings translucent, their bodies sleek and powerful. They were beautiful and terrifying in equal measure.
"Choose one," Seri shouted over the noise. "One that calls to you."
Kaelen looked. Really looked. And there, at the edge of the cliff, was an ikran unlike the others. Its colors were darker, its eyes fiercer, its wings scarred from old battles. It watched him with an intensity that made his blood run cold.
"That one," he said.
Seri followed his gaze and frowned. "That one is old. Wounded. It may not survive the bonding."
"Neither may I." He started toward it.
The ikran watched him approach. It didn't scream or attack—just watched, its golden eyes tracking his every move. When he was close enough to touch, it opened its mouth and hissed.
Kaelen stopped. He remembered Seri's lessons. Feel the forest. Feel where it wants you to step.
He closed his eyes. He felt the vibration of Eywa beneath his feet. He felt the ikran's presence—not as a separate thing, but as part of the same network, the same web of life. He reached out with his mind, with his heart, with everything he was.
I see you, he thought. I see you, and I honor you. Will you see me?
The hissing stopped.
He opened his eyes. The ikran was staring at him, but its posture had changed. The aggression was gone, replaced by something else—curiosity, maybe. Or recognition.
Slowly, carefully, Kaelen reached out and touched its snout.
The bond exploded into being.
He felt everything—the ikran's memories of flight, of hunting, of battles won and lost. He felt its pain from old wounds, its loneliness, its fierce pride. And he felt it feel him in return—his own pain, his own loneliness, his own desperate need to belong.
When he opened his eyes, Seri was staring at him with an expression he'd never seen before.
"What?" he asked.
"No sky-person has ever bonded with an ikran," she said softly. "Not in all the cycles. Not ever."
Kaelen looked at his new partner, at the creature that was now part of his soul.
"Guess I'm not a sky-person anymore," he said.
And for the first time, Seri smiled. A real smile. A smile that reached her eyes.
"No," she agreed. "I don't think you are."