The preparations for Iknimaya began long before the sun reached its highest point, creeping into Home Tree like a quiet urgency that could not be ignored.
Nussudle had been awake since before dawn, seated on an upper platform where the leaves parted just enough to allow pale light through. His bow rested across his knees, its familiar weight grounding him. He ran his fingers along the wood slowly, deliberately, checking for splinters or hairline cracks. The bow had been with him through his first successful hunt, his first failure, and his first brush with death. It was more than a weapon; it was a companion.
He laid out his arrows beside him, each one inspected with care. Shafts straight, bindings tight, stone tips sharpened until they caught the light. He adjusted the fletching on one arrow that had loosened slightly, retying it with nimble fingers. When he finished, he counted them. Then counted them again.
Satisfied, he turned to his other supplies.
Food came first—wrapped tightly in broad leaves, sealed with resin to preserve freshness. Dried meats, nutrient-rich fruits, compact but filling. Enough for a week if he was careful. A reinforced gourd of water followed, strapped securely with woven fibre. He tested its seal twice. Losing water in the Hallelujah Mountains was a death sentence.
His sling was coiled neatly and tucked away, along with a spare cord, flint, a small carving blade, and tools he might need to repair gear far from Home Tree. Each item was placed with intention. Disorder had no place on the path to becoming a rider.
Below him, the other hunters in training prepared in much the same way.
There was little interaction between them—not out of animosity, but respect. Iknimaya was deeply personal. Though they would travel together, each hunter would face the trial alone. No one could help them when they stood before the ikran. No one could soften rejection or survive a fall in their place.
Beyond the quiet focus of the hunters, however, the rest of the Omatikaya clan moved with a different energy entirely.
Excitement rippled through Home Tree. Voices rose in laughter and song as people gathered, children darting between platforms with barely contained excitement. Elders sat together in small groups, watching the preparations with expressions shaped by memory. They had seen this before—many times. Some had returned triumphant. Others had not returned at all.
This was both a celebration and a farewell.
Nussudle felt himself hovering between those two meanings, neither fully belonging to one nor the other. He was no longer a child, yet not yet a rider. The space between those identities felt fragile, stretched thin by expectation.
The sound of heavy footsteps echoed from below, drawing his attention.
Kamun and Eytukan emerged from one of the forest paths, flanked by several seasoned hunters. Between them was the massive body of a Sturmbeast, its thick hide marred by clean, precise wounds. Even in death, the creature was imposing—horns heavy, muscles coiled with latent strength.
A murmur ran through the gathered crowd, swelling quickly into cheers.
The Sturmbeast was not merely food. It was proof of skill and coordination. Bringing one down required strategy, patience, and courage. That Kamun and Eytukan had hunted it together was deliberate—a visible reminder of lineage, leadership, and shared strength.
Nussudle watched as Eytukan wiped blood from his forearms, his expression calm but unmistakably proud. His brother carried himself differently now—less like someone proving himself, more like someone already proven. Soon, he would not only be a warrior but a guide.
The beast was butchered with ritual care, nothing wasted. Fires were lit as the eclipse approached, their glow casting warm light across polished wood and woven banners. The scent of roasting meat filled the air, mingling with forest damp and resin smoke.
As the clan gathered fully, Kamun stepped forward and positioned himself before the chief's chair. Conversation quieted almost immediately. He did not raise his voice—he did not need to.
"My people," Kamun began, his tone steady and resonant, "tonight we celebrate many things."
He gestured toward the hunters in training. "These young ones stand at the edge of change. Soon, they will face Iknimaya—the trial that binds the rider to the sky. It is a path that has taken lives, but it has also shaped the strongest among us."
Silence followed, respectful and heavy.
"They will be tested not only by the ikran," Kamun continued, "but by themselves. Fear, pain, doubt—these are not enemies to be avoided, but trials to be endured."
His gaze shifted then, a faint smile touching his features.
"There is also a bond to be honoured. A pact between families. A future strengthened by unity. Tonight, we acknowledge the arranged union of my eldest son, Eytukan, and Mo'at."
The reaction was immediate.
Cheers erupted, voices overlapping in approval. Arranged unions were not casual matters—they were agreements forged through trust, shared values, and responsibility to the clan. Mo'at was respected, her lineage strong, her spirit known.
Eytukan inclined his head with composure, while Mo'at returned the gesture from where she sat among her kin, her expression calm yet bright.
Nussudle felt something stir in his chest. Happiness for his brother, yes—but also a dull ache he hadn't anticipated.
As the feast began in earnest, the atmosphere shifted fully into celebration. Meat was shared generously. Music rose, rhythmic drumming echoing through the trunk. Laughter spilled across platforms, the sound carried by the eclipse-lit air.
Nussudle found himself seated beside Eytukan, both of them tearing strips of Sturmbeast meat from the bone.
"So," Nussudle said casually, unable to help himself, "Mo'at, hm? Didn't think you were the settling type."
Eytukan snorted. "Careful, little brother. You sound jealous."
"Jealous?" Nussudle scoffed. "I'm surprised. She'll keep you in line."
Eytukan leaned closer, lowering his voice. "At least I'm not the one getting flustered over Nayat'i."
The words struck deeper than Nussudle expected.
Heat rushed to his ears. "That's different."
Eytukan's grin widened. "Is it?"
Their exchange drew a few amused glances, but Nussudle's smile faded quickly. The laughter around him felt distant now, muffled by thoughts he couldn't quite silence.
Nayat'i was somewhere in the crowd, laughing with others. He could sense her presence even without seeing her. The space between them remained unresolved, heavy with unspoken tension.
Before the mood could sink further, Kamun raised his hands again.
"One final announcement," he said.
The crowd fell silent.
"For the journey to the Hallelujah Mountains, the hunters in training will not travel alone. They will be overseen by one who knows both forest and sky—one who has faced Iknimaya and returned victorious."
Kamun placed a hand on Eytukan's shoulder.
"Eytukan will lead them."
The cheer that followed was thunderous.
Eytukan straightened, surprise flickering briefly before pride took its place. He bowed his head in acknowledgement.
Nussudle felt something solidify inside him. If his brother believed in him enough to oversee his trial, then failure was not an option.
As the celebration waned and preparations resumed, Nussudle moved to where his direhorse waited. He ran a hand along its neck, feeling the steady warmth beneath his fingers. The animal snorted softly, recognising him.
He secured his packs carefully, checking balance and weight. Everything he would need for the journey was there.
Around him, the other hunters in training did the same. Quiet now. Focused.
As the eclipse reached its peak, bathing Pandora in silver shadow, Nussudle stood beside his direhorse and looked toward the distant silhouette of the Hallelujah Mountains.
Tomorrow, they would depart.
Tomorrow, the sky would decide who he would become.
And beneath the weight of expectation, fear, unresolved feelings, and anticipation, one truth burned brighter than all the rest—
He would face it head-on.
(AN: Okay First... WOW a lot of people have collected this story and im happy. Secondly bit of pressure but its alr. Thirdly enjoy the story, although humans are still a bit away they will show up.)