The stars were not stars. They were embers—hot, pulsing, alive—embedded in a sky the color of a fresh bruise. You blinked, and the sterile medbay walls dissolved into a glade drenched in moonlight so thick it felt like liquid. Your body shifted, scales rippling across your skin in a wave of cold fire. White. Not the warm ivory of Pandoran bone, but the blinding, glacial white of a comet's heart.

You tried to stand, but the ground beneath you writhed—roots? No. Veins. Thick, pulsing cords that burrowed into the earth, feeding some unseen leviathan.

"Ah. Awake at last."

The voice slithered through the air, velvet and venom. He emerged from the tree line, his form flickering between Na'vi and something... older. Taller. His scales mirrored yours, but where yours shimmered, his burned, as if lit from within. Red eyes glowed like dying suns, pupils slit vertically, drinking in your fear.

"You disappoint me, dear," Urge purred, circling you. His claws—longer, crueler than yours—trailed through the air, leaving faint scorch marks that hung like graffiti. "All that power, caged in flesh. Pathetic."

You staggered back, but the veined ground held fast, tendrils snaking up your legs. "What are you?"

He laughed, the sound a chorus of screams. "What? No. The question is who." He leaned in, his breath reeking of charred marrow. "I am the song in your blood when you hunt. The crack in your ribs when you lie to that blue-skinned doll. I am the urge." His claw tapped your chest, and the world lurched.

Memories erupted—not yours. A planet scorched to glass. Mountains melted to slag. A thousand dragons, wings blotting out the sun, their roars shaking continents... then silence. Ash.

"We were kings," Urge hissed, his snout now inches from your face, the transition from Na'vi to dragon seamless, horrifying. "And you grovel at the feet of hairless apes. Play human. Play Na'vi." His tail lashed, slicing through a tree. It fell, oozing black sap. "You are dragon. Start acting like it."

You lunged, fangs bared, but he dissolved into smoke, reforming behind you. "Tsk. Still fighting?" His tongue flicked your ear, scalding. "You'll break. And when you do, I'll be there. We'll peel the sky open. Together."

The glade collapsed.

SCENEBREAK

You woke choking on smoke, Neytiri's hands braced on your shoulders, her eyes wild. The medbay stank of antiseptic and burnt wiring. "You were thrashing," she said, voice strained. "Burning."

You glanced down. The sheets were ash. Your scales glinted faintly under the sterile lights.

"Who is Urge?" she demanded.

Your throat tightened. Beyond the glass, Jake slept fitfully in his wheelchair, a blanket slipping off his shoulders.

"No one," you lied.

Her claws pricked your skin. "Tsyeyk says you cried that name. Three times."

You closed your eyes. Somewhere, in the dark of your ribs, Urge laughed.

Liar, he crooned. Liar, liar, liar.

The medbay's fluorescent lights buzzed like trapped wasps, their glare sharp against your scales. You sat upright, your tail coiled defensively around the examination table, its edges warped and blackened from where your heat had seared the metal. Neytiri's hands lingered in the air where you'd shoved them away, her claws still half-extended, as if torn between reaching for you and recoiling. Her nostrils flared, drinking in the scent of you now—sulfur and storm, a far cry from the earthy musk she'd once traced with her fingertips.

Jake's wheelchair hummed as he rolled closer, undeterred by the wisps of smoke curling from your nostrils. His smile was a fragile thing, stitched together with exhaustion and relief. "Hey," he murmured, his voice sandpaper-rough. "Missed you, firecracker."

You stiffened as he took your taloned hand, his human fingers absurdly small against your gnarled knuckles. His lips brushed the ridge where scale met flesh—a kiss that shouldn't have been possible, shouldn't have been safe. But Jake had never been one for boundaries.

"Jake," you rasped, the dragon's growl lingering in your throat. "I'm... not me right now."

He snorted, thumb tracing the serrated edge of a claw. "Bullshit. You're more you than ever." His gaze flicked to Neytiri, who stood rigid by the door, her tail lashing. "Ain't that right, 'Tiri?"

Neytiri didn't answer. Her eyes were fixed on the place where Jake's lips had touched your hand, her own fingers curling into fists. When she finally spoke, her voice was a blade sheathed in silk. "You risk much, Tsyeyk."

"Risk's my middle name, baby." Jake winked, but the joke fell flat. His thumb stilled on your claw. "We're gonna figure this out. All of it."

You wanted to believe him. But Urge's laughter echoed in your marrow, a poison ivy crawl. Pathetic, he sneered, his voice a match strike in your mind. You let this cripple fawn over you? Let him taste your weakness?

Your tail lashed, smashing a monitor off the wall. Sparks rained down as you lurched upright, the table groaning under your weight. "Don't," you snarled, though it wasn't clear who the warning was for—Jake, Neytiri, or the ghost in your blood.

Jake didn't flinch. "Easy," he said, rolling forward until your knees bracketed his chair. His palm pressed to your chest, over the faint glow beneath your scales. "Breathe, kid. In and out. Like I taught you."

"Jake—"

"Breathe."

You did. The ember in your chest dimmed, the room's temperature dropping from inferno to forge-fire. Neytiri took a hesitant step forward, her scent cutting through the ozone—night-blooming vines, fear, and something sharper. Hunger, maybe. Or awe.

"Your eyes," she whispered.

You glanced at the shattered monitor's reflection. Gold irises, yes, but deep within them pulsed a filament of red. Urge's signature. His brand.

Jake's grip tightened. "We'll fix it."

Liar, Urge crooned. You'll beg for me when the humans come. When the Sky People carve into your beloved jungle. You'll need me.

The door hissed open. Grace stormed in, tablet in hand, Norm trailing like a nervous shadow. "Vitals are stable," she barked, though her eyes betrayed her shock at your full draconic form. "But we've got incoming. Quaritch's squad is mobilizing. They're calling you a 'priority target.'"

Neytiri snarled, her bow materializing in her hands as if summoned. "Let them come."

"No." You rose, your wings stretching until they scraped the ceiling. The red in your eyes brightened. "Let me go."

Jake's hand clamped around your wrist. "Like hell."

"Jake—"

"We do this together." His stare dared you to argue. "All of us. Or not at all."

Urge's laughter swelled, but beneath it, faint as a heartbeat, you felt something new—a spark, kindling. Not dragonfire.

Family, Jake's touch seemed to say.

Neytiri stepped to your other side, her shoulder brushing your scaled flank. "Oel ngati kameie," she said quietly.

You closed your eyes. When you opened them, the red had dimmed.

For now.