Weeks passed.
The wounded healed. The dead were given to Eywa, their memories added to the great network, their bodies returned to the soil that had birthed them. Hometree was gone, but the clan survived. They would build again. They would endure.
Kaelen's human body was found in the cave, untouched. Dr. Vance had protected it, hidden it from Thorne's remaining forces. The link equipment still worked.
He had a choice.
He could go back. Return to his human form, to the pain and the wheelchair and the life he had left behind. He could report to whatever remained of the RDA, claim ignorance, try to rebuild something from the ashes.
Or he could stay.
Seri found him at sunset, sitting on the ledge where he had almost died, watching the sky turn purple and gold.
"You're thinking," she said.
"Always a dangerous habit."
She sat beside him. Close enough to touch, but not touching. "The link equipment still works. Vance told me."
"It does."
"You could go back."
"I could."
Neither of them spoke for a long moment. Below them, the forest was beginning to recover. New growth pushed through the ashes. The bioluminescence was returning, faint but persistent, like hope.
"I don't want to go back," Kaelen said finally. "There's nothing there for me. Just pain and memories and a body that doesn't work." He looked at his blue hands, his strong hands, the hands that had held a bow and saved lives and touched the roots of Eywa. "This is my body now. This is my home."
Seri turned to look at him. In the fading light, her eyes held something he had never seen before—not suspicion, not duty, not fear. Something softer. Something warmer.
"Then stay," she said simply.
"Is that an invitation?"
"It's a plea." She reached out and took his hand. "I don't want to lose you, Kaelen. Not now. Not after everything."
He squeezed her hand. "You won't."