The climb began before any of them fully realised how far they had already come.
The path up the mountain narrowed into a series of jagged stone ridges, carved by ancient water and relentless wind. Direhorses were left behind at the last viable ledge, tethered and calmed with soft murmurs before the hunters in training continued on foot. The air grew thinner with every step, each breath drawn deeper than the last as muscles strained against gravity and exhaustion.
Nussudle climbed steadily, hands gripping cold stone as his feet searched for purchase. His healed arm responded well, strength holding where pain once lived, though the burn in his muscles reminded him that this was no effortless ascent. Around him, the other hunters climbed in tense silence, each focused inward, conserving energy and resolve.
Above them, the summit loomed closer with every measured step.
As they rose higher, the forest below dissolved into a distant blur, its vastness reduced to layered greens and mist. Wind swept across the exposed rock, carrying with it unfamiliar scents and a low, constant hum that vibrated faintly through the stone. It was not sound exactly, but presence, as though the mountain itself breathed.
Eytukan moved with confidence at the front, his movements sure and practised. He paused only when necessary, offering brief guidance with gestures rather than words. This was not a place for distraction. A single misstep could mean a fall from which there was no recovery.
When they finally reached the summit ridge, the world seemed to open all at once.
The peak flattened into a broad shelf of stone, its surface worn smooth by time beyond memory. From here, the view was staggering. Before them hung the Hallelujah Mountains, massive floating landmasses suspended in open air, their undersides veined with roots and cascading mist. Thick vines stretched between the peaks like living bridges, swaying gently as if beckoning.
Several of the hunters stopped short, breath catching in their throats.
Nussudle felt it too. Awe, sharp and immediate, cutting through fatigue like fresh air into burning lungs. This was not simply height. This was defiance of the world as he understood it.
Eytukan turned to face them, a grin tugging at his lips.
"I remember my first time here," he said casually, as though they stood at the edge of an ordinary cliff rather than the boundary between earth and sky. "I nearly turned around."
A few nervous laughs rippled through the group.
"Nearly," Eytukan repeated, then stepped closer to the edge. He glanced back once, eyes bright. "You'll understand soon enough."
Without further warning, he jumped.
Gasps erupted as his form vanished over the edge, instantly swallowed by the open air and mist. Several hunters surged forward in alarm, peering down in time to see nothing but swirling cloud.
Then a roar split the air.
Eytukan burst upward from below, riding his ikran with wild laughter, wings beating powerfully as the great creature surged past the summit. He circled once, hovering effortlessly above them.
"You have to do this part yourselves!" he called down, voice carrying easily on the wind. "I'll see you at the top!"
The ikran banked sharply and vanished toward the floating mountains, leaving stunned silence in its wake.
For a long moment, no one moved.
Nussudle stepped forward.
His heart hammered as he approached the edge, peering down at the impossible distance below. The vines swayed invitingly, thick and strong, stretching upward toward the floating peaks.
He did not allow himself to hesitate.
With a sharp breath, Nussudle jumped.
The moment Nussudle left solid ground, instinct took over.
Air rushed past him in a roaring blur, the sudden absence of stone beneath his feet wrenching a sharp gasp from his chest. For a heartbeat, there was nothing—no up, no down—only the vast, open sky and the terrifying certainty that he had committed fully, with no chance of retreat.
Then his hands struck vine.
The thick, living strand coiled instinctively around his wrist as his fingers clenched, its surface rough yet warm, pulsing faintly with life. The force of the fall snapped his body downward, legs swinging violently before a second vine wrapped around his calf, arresting his descent with a jolt that rattled his bones. Pain flared briefly along his shoulders, but he held fast, breath tearing in and out of his lungs as he stabilised himself.
Below him, mist churned endlessly, swallowing the mountain's sheer face in rolling white. Above, the floating mountains loomed closer now, their undersides dark and immense, roots dangling like the limbs of some ancient beast.
"Move!" Eytukan's distant voice carried down, laughter still threaded through it. "Do not cling to the fear!"
Nussudle forced his muscles to obey.
He shifted his grip, hand over hand, letting the vines guide his movement upward. They were stronger than they appeared, thick with internal fibres that tightened when pulled, responding to his weight rather than resisting it. His legs wrapped instinctively around another vine, feet bracing as he began to climb in earnest.
Behind him, the air filled with shouts and sharp intakes of breath as the others followed.
One by one, the hunters leapt from the summit, cries echoing as bodies vanished over the edge before reappearing, caught and held by the living network of vines. Some laughed in nervous disbelief. Others swore loudly as vines snapped tight around limbs, halting their falls abruptly.
Nayat'i jumped last.
Nussudle heard her before he saw her—the sharp exhale of surprise, the brief, unguarded cry as gravity claimed her. He glanced sideways just in time to see her catch a vine with one hand, her body swinging wide before another vine looped around her waist. She froze there for a moment, chest heaving, eyes squeezed shut.
"Breathe," Nussudle called, unable to stop himself.
Her eyes opened. She looked toward him, startled, then nodded once. Slowly, carefully, she began to climb.
The ascent was not fast. Muscles burned, hands cramped, and the thin air made every movement heavier than it should have been. Nussudle felt sweat slick his palms despite the chill wind cutting across the open space. He focused on rhythm—reach, pull, brace—letting the vines guide him upward in a pattern that felt almost taught.
Far below, the summit shrank into insignificance. Above, the floating mountain's edge drew nearer, its rocky lip jagged and uneven, water spilling over it in shimmering curtains that dissolved into mist before reaching the ground.
The vines grew denser the higher they climbed, braided together in thick clusters that made movement easier but no less exhausting. Nussudle's arms trembled as he hauled himself upward, every muscle protesting, but his grip held. His healed arm proved its worth now, strength flowing cleanly through it without hesitation.
A scream tore through the air.
Nussudle twisted his head just in time to see one of the hunters lose his footing, slipping sideways as his grip faltered. For a horrifying second, the Na'vi tumbled, limbs flailing, before a vine snapped around his torso, halting the fall so abruptly that the breath was driven from his lungs. He hung there, gasping, eyes wide with shock.
"Hold!" Eytukan shouted from above. "Do not fight the vines—let them hold you!"
The hunter obeyed, still trembling, and after a moment began climbing again, slower now, more cautious.
Nussudle forced himself not to look down again. The distance had grown dizzying, the ground a memory rather than a reality. Fear lurked there, waiting for attention. He denied it that luxury.
Gradually, painfully, they climbed.
The wind changed as they neared the underside of the floating mountain, currents curling unpredictably around the stone. The hum Nussudle had felt earlier grew stronger, vibrating through the vines and into his bones. It felt alive in a way that made his chest tighten—not hostile, but immense.
At last, his hand closed around solid rock.
The ledge was narrow, slick with moisture from nearby falls, but it held. Nussudle dragged himself upward, collapsing briefly onto his knees as his lungs burned. He rolled onto his back, staring up at the pale sky framed by drifting mist, chest rising and falling in ragged gulps.
One by one, the others reached the ledge, hauling themselves up with varying degrees of grace. Some laughed breathlessly. Others lay flat, eyes closed, whispering prayers to Eywa.
Nussudle pushed himself upright just as Nayat'i reached the edge.
She struggled for a moment, arms shaking as exhaustion finally caught up with her. Without thinking, he leaned forward and grasped her forearm, fingers locking securely around her wrist.
"I've got you," he said.
She looked up at him, surprise flickering across her face, then relief. With a final effort, she let him pull her onto the ledge. She sat there for a moment, breathing hard, before meeting his gaze.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
The word hung between them, awkward and fragile, carrying far more weight than it should have.
Nussudle nodded once, unsure what else to offer.
Above them, the floating mountain stretched onward, its surface rising toward the unseen nesting grounds of the ikran. And somewhere beyond the mist, Eytukan waited, laughter already echoing faintly across the sky.
The climb was over.
The true trial was about to begin.
The ledge marked a threshold more than a resting place, and all of them felt it.
When Nussudle finally pushed himself fully upright, the exhaustion in his limbs was matched only by the strange lightness in his chest. The air here felt thinner, sharper, carrying a constant vibration that hummed faintly through stone and bone alike. Mist drifted in slow currents across the floating mountain's surface, parting and reforming as though the land itself breathed.
Eytukan waited several paces ahead, his ikran perched with wings partially unfurled, talons gripping the rock with effortless balance. He dismounted as the last of the hunters hauled themselves onto the ledge, his laughter softening into a proud smile as he surveyed them.
"Good," he said simply. "You all made it."
The words carried weight. This was no small thing. Many never reached this point, turning back at the summit or freezing at the edge when faced with the leap. The hunters in training exchanged glances, a quiet understanding passing between them. Whatever lay ahead, they had already crossed a line that could not be uncrossed.
Eytukan gestured toward the rising slope ahead. "This is as far as I go with you," he said. "From here, you walk alone. The ikran will test you. They will smell your fear, your doubt, your intent. Do not try to dominate them. Do not try to impress them. Be honest."
He paused, letting the words settle. "And remember—Eywa does not choose lightly."
The path upward narrowed quickly, becoming a series of uneven stone shelves and shallow inclines that wound toward the heart of the floating mountain. The ground was warm beneath Nussudle's hands when he steadied himself, the rock faintly alive with energy that tingled against his skin. Above them, shadows moved across the stone—massive shapes gliding between spires and cliffs.
Ikran.
Their calls echoed through the mist, sharp and piercing, carrying both challenge and warning. Nussudle felt the sound in his chest as much as he heard it, his pulse quickening in response. Every story he had heard, every lesson drilled into him since childhood, surged forward all at once.
This was it.
The hunters began to spread out instinctively, each choosing a path upward, giving one another space. No words were exchanged. There was nothing left to say.
Nussudle climbed steadily, forcing his breathing to remain controlled despite the pounding of his heart. The terrain grew steeper, the stone slick with condensation from nearby falls. At one point, he slipped, catching himself only by driving his fingers into a narrow crack. Pain flared briefly, then faded as he pulled himself higher.
Behind him, he heard a startled yelp as another hunter lost footing, followed by a muttered curse and the scrape of stone. No one stopped. Helping now would only weaken both of them.
As he climbed, Nussudle became acutely aware of everything—wind direction, the texture of the rock, the subtle shifts in temperature. His connection to the world around him felt sharper than ever, as though the mountain itself acknowledged his presence. The system flickered faintly at the edge of his perception, noting heightened awareness, environmental attunement, but he pushed it aside. This was not something to be reduced to numbers.
The mist thinned suddenly, revealing a broad shelf ahead.
Nussudle pulled himself onto it and froze.
The nesting grounds stretched before him, carved directly into the floating mountain's face. Jagged spires of stone jutted outward, each serving as a perch. Massive wings beat the air as ikran circled, their scales catching the light in flashes of blue, green, and gold. Their eyes were sharp, intelligent, and wholly uninterested in mercy.
One of them landed heavily on a nearby spire, talons cracking stone. It turned its head slowly toward Nussudle, pupils narrowing as it assessed him.
Fear surged, hot and immediate.
Nussudle did not run.
He straightened slowly, forcing his breathing to steady. He met the creature's gaze, letting it see him fully—not just his strength, but his uncertainty, his resolve, his willingness to stand rather than flee. The ikran hissed, wings flaring, then looked away, uninterested for now.
Around him, the other hunters emerged onto the shelf, each confronted by their own moment of reckoning. Some faltered, instinctively stepping back from the sheer drop behind them. Others stood transfixed, awe overpowering fear.
Nayat'i appeared a short distance away, her expression taut with concentration. Their eyes met briefly across the stone. There was no smile, no words—only shared understanding. Whatever lay between them would have to wait.
Eytukan's voice echoed faintly from below, carried by the wind. "Choose wisely!"
The words faded, leaving only the cries of ikran and the rush of waterfalls dissolving into mist far beneath them.
Nussudle stepped forward.
He moved deeper into the nesting grounds, heart steadying with each step. Somewhere ahead, his ikran waited. He did not know which one it would be, or whether it would accept him at all. But he knew this much with absolute clarity:
He had earned the right to try.
And whatever happened next would shape the rest of his life beneath the open sky.