Beneath the Spirit Pools

Beneath me, the very rock beats alive with a slow, rhythmic pulsation of Eywa's gentle heartbeat reverating through the hollow corridors. Here in the deepest tunnels of Hollow Veins, where the cavern walls are streaked and shimmer with bioluminescent silver and violet like spilled paint on wet stone, I wallow in much needed silence. My fingers tracing the smooth contour of my spirit bead, rolling it between thumb and forefinger; it's comforting warmth the only thing tethering me to the physical present of my lonely reality. From the soft whispers of the dark.

Before me, a series of dark, still pools reflect not only the faint light around us, but also the echo of the world above and the never seen world beyond. This is where the voices of our ancestors murmur secrets, where the boundary between was was and what will be grows thin. The line where past and future blurs into near nothingness. Yet tonight, tremors run through the water. Unseen ripples, ones that only I can see. Billows that cause its steady glow to flicker out briefly before surging back like the hesitant beat of a heart caught in uncertainty.

I inhale slowly, drawing a measured breath and pressing my palms against the cool, quivering surface of one pool, feeling a shiver dance along my skin. A whisper curling through my bones. In that moment, my body tensing- marks glowing around me as I close my eyes, as if borne on the very current of the water.

"Change is coming"

It has been two weeks since I first noticed the disturbances. Small, nearly imperceptible shifts in the balance– petals of flowers unfurling out of season, glimmers of unusual light dancing through the cave ceilings, the beast of the caverns shifting restlessly in the shadows. My people do not see as I do, safe in their secluded haven, remaining blissfully detached from these ominous signs; while I alone seem to catch every muted tremor of Eywa's warning. Despite their contentment in our hidden refuge, away from war and ruin, I know deep down that nothing remains isolated forever.

"The storm is near."

I must be the one to tell them. I am the only one who can warn them.

Slowly, I rose from my kneeling position. The long layers of my spirit-woven garments, resembling the flow of water, cascade in gentle waves around my thighs. The silk like fibers shimmering with hints of deep hues under the faint cavern light. I press my lips tight and release a soft sigh as the cool, damp air of the tunnel kisses gently against my nearly translucent skin.

Hollow Veins has always been a sanctuary of relief for me– a place where the ancient stones seem to exhale a slow, steady rhythm and murmurs of forgotten spirits whispering secrets. Night after night, I have sat here, listening to the wisdom of those who came before. But now, those timeless voices come fragmented, restless.

"Something approaches."

I turn sharply, my long, twin braids swaying behind me, resting close to my ankles. At the entrance of the chambers stands my brother– Vey'lan– his tall silhouette outlined against the glowing tunnel walls. His skin bearing the same bioluminescent markings like the rest of us Spirit Na'vi; colors cycling through deep cerulean and a faint wash of lavender. His brow furrowed with worry, etched into his features, and his silver–blue eyes gleam with solemn concern.

"You feel it," he intones in a low, steady voice.

I nod, my eyes returning to the quivering pools. "The balance is shifting. Even the spirits are uneasy tonight."

Vey'lan exhales slowly through his nose, stepping closer, his presence as reassuring as it is resolute. "But the others remain oblivious," he notes with a trace of frustration. "They always think themselves hidden, as if wrapped in the eternal embrace of Eywa's bones. They do not sense it."

"They never do, it is not their duty to," I reply, a bitter smile tugging at my lips as I watch the faint ripple of light dance on the water's surface. "And… they trust that we are beyond reach, but even the deepest secrets eventually find their way to the light."

Vey'lan's gaze is tight, his jaw working with resolve. Though he has always been more of a warrior than a seer, he has come to understand my troubled visions. The older brother, born to protect; and I, was born to see.

"They will not listen unless you give them reason." he advises gently.

Closing my eyes, I search within. Reason. Proof. Only, the spirits do not speak in ways the others understand. Only in fleeting echoes, in broken dreams and whispered riddles. I have seen glimmers of foreboding: fiery silhouettes etched across a turbulent sky, a storm that roils without releasing its fury, and the visage of figures unknown, whose significance are yet to be unraveled. It is coming, whether my people are ready or not.

Later, as night deepens, I perched myself on a high ledge overlooking the vibrant heart of our sanctuary. As Spirit Na'vi, we do not build as others do; we carve and weave, shaping our homes from the living stone and glowing flora nestled within Pandora's secret depths. The cave walls beat softly with a light that breathes along with Eywa, each frothy a silent hymn to the ancient life of our world.

Below me, I watch as my people wander through the labyrinth of tunnels, their voices carrying upward laughter and quiet conversations that mingle like echoes in the dark. Their bright, carefree spirits are untouched by the unease that stirs in the hidden crevices. In a way I am too, never seeing the outside world, but I have never needed to. Why leave the safety of these walls, plus our bodies are not made for the dangers of even the thick air or intense heat of the sun. I watch them; a twinge of bittersweet envy– so immersed in peace, so unaware of the gathering storm.

For as long as I can remember, a weight has been pressed upon me. Since birth, already born with white hair, labelled as the chosen one, nothing else. The expectations of my mother, the whispers of the ancestors, the destiny I have not yet fully grasped in my nineteen years of life. Eywa has marked me, but for what? To watch? To warn? To act? 

My fingers tighten instinctively around the beaded cord I didn't know I still held.

Without warning, the vision bursts forth. It crashes over me like a brutal gust of wind, stealing my breath in its sudden rush. The comforting darkness of the cavern dissolves into stark flashes of fire and water, of stormy skies and rugged stone. The fragmented images, I see a lone warrior clad in shadows, eyes blazing like twin suns with an intensity that renders the night alive. Another figure looms– a mysterious presence with outstretched hands and a voice that calls softly yet insistently my name.

In that moment, pain and loss intertwine with the cruel demand of an irreversible choice. I gasp sharply, the vision snapping away just as quickly as it came as I lurch forward, my hands grasping for the stone ledge. My heart pounds a wild tattoo against my ribs, echoing like the relentless beat of the Omaticaya's war drums.

Vey'lan's beside me before I can even try to regain composure. His strong hands clamp firmly around my trembling arms. "What did you see?" he asks, his voice a calm anchor amid the turmoil.

I shake my head in a daze, still wrestling with the shards of my vision. "A warning," I manage, barely a whisper. "Something is coming, big brother."

"His grip tightens in solidarity, "Then we must be ready to face it."

I lift my eyes to meet him, my breath still unsteady, "Eywa has drawn a path before me, one I must follow, whether I am prepared or not."