Echoes of Eternity
- LECTURES 5,208
- Votes 165
- Chapitres 18
Contenu pour adultesEn cours d'écriture5h 40m
Dernière publication mer., févr. 18, 2026
a powerful, slow-burn epic set within the world of Avatar, following two survivors of an extinct Na'vi clan - Mir'eya and Kenaï - stolen as children and raised in the RDA's ambassador program. Torn apart by violence, cryosleep, and war, their lives are shaped by loss, survival, and the relentless pull back to each other.
Now, reunited after six years, they must rebuild the bond that was never truly broken - navigating memory, trauma, and love in a world that has moved on without them. As the Resistance rises and the RDA threatens everything they've fought to reclaim, their story unfolds in moments of raw rage, quiet tenderness, and fierce devotion.
This is a story of healing, vengeance, and a love forged in fire - where the ghosts of the past walk beside them, and the future is written not in peace, but in war.
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The older warrior stumbled, cursing, and Na'kei was on him before he could rise. Knees straddling his ribs. Blade drawn. Pressed just above the sacred braid. His hand closed on Rahk'tep's kuru. "You want truth?" Na'kei whispered, eyes burning. "Let's see yours." Rahk'tep froze. Like he'd been stabbed. Na'kei pulled out his own kuru, tendrils twitching. "You scared? Afraid I'll see something you don't want me to know?" Rahk'tep's hand clamped down on his wrist. Tight. Shaking. Na'kei leaned closer, his breath hot across Rahk'tep's jaw. "What's in there, Rahk'tep? A memory of screaming? Of pleasure? Of guilt?" Rahk'tep growled. "You connect with me, and I'll kill you." "You already tried," Na'kei hissed. "I woke up anyway." They stared. Nothing moved but their chests, rising and falling in sync, breath caught between hate and heat. Na'kei didn't move the kuru any closer. He didn't have to. The tension had already coiled tight as bone. Rahk'tep finally shoved him off. Hard. Na'kei hit the stone and rolled to his feet. "Coward." Rahk'tep stood. His knife back in hand. "Fool." Na'kei's eyes narrowed. "Traitor." Rahk'tep's jaw clenched. "Mistake." The word landed like a blow. Na'kei didn't flinch, but his voice cracked as he spoke. "Then why did you stay behind? Why follow me into exile, if I'm just that?" Rahk'tep said nothing. His silence was a confession. Na'kei walked back to his mat, slow, back straight. He lay down again. Stared into the fire. Let the heat lick his face. Then, without looking: "You want to hate me? Fine. But don't pretend your hands are clean." Silence. Only the fire, and the sound of two outcasts too proud to sleep, too broken to speak. ༺༻ Interesting right? Lets read it (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
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[Book I] Txukxefu | Neteyam x Male Reader
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The older warrior stumbled, cursing, and Na'kei was on him before he could rise. Knees straddling his ribs. Blade drawn. Pressed just above the sacred braid. His hand closed on Rahk'tep's kuru. "You want truth?" Na'kei whispered, eyes burning. "Let's see yours." Rahk'tep froze. Like he'd been stabbed. Na'kei pulled out his own kuru, tendrils twitching. "You scared? Afraid I'll see something you don't want me to know?" Rahk'tep's hand clamped down on his wrist. Tight. Shaking. Na'kei leaned closer, his breath hot across Rahk'tep's jaw. "What's in there, Rahk'tep? A memory of screaming? Of pleasure? Of guilt?" Rahk'tep growled. "You connect with me, and I'll kill you." "You already tried," Na'kei hissed. "I woke up anyway." They stared. Nothing moved but their chests, rising and falling in sync, breath caught between hate and heat. Na'kei didn't move the kuru any closer. He didn't have to. The tension had already coiled tight as bone. Rahk'tep finally shoved him off. Hard. Na'kei hit the stone and rolled to his feet. "Coward." Rahk'tep stood. His knife back in hand. "Fool." Na'kei's eyes narrowed. "Traitor." Rahk'tep's jaw clenched. "Mistake." The word landed like a blow. Na'kei didn't flinch, but his voice cracked as he spoke. "Then why did you stay behind? Why follow me into exile, if I'm just that?" Rahk'tep said nothing. His silence was a confession. Na'kei walked back to his mat, slow, back straight. He lay down again. Stared into the fire. Let the heat lick his face. Then, without looking: "You want to hate me? Fine. But don't pretend your hands are clean." Silence. Only the fire, and the sound of two outcasts too proud to sleep, too broken to speak. ༺༻ Interesting right? Lets read it (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
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